<![CDATA[X-treme Wrestling Federation - "Bad Medicine" RP Board (May 23, 2015)]]> https://xwf1999.com/ Wed, 13 May 2026 03:40:59 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[Liberation]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20087 Fri, 22 May 2015 23:17:23 -0700 Mr Killjoy]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20087 Swag Mire. DMX-Factor.

:: Trax stands in what appears to be a dimly lit cellar, a sole flickering light bulb is above his head casting shadows across the stone walls as the man who calls himself "Mr FN' Dominance" stands there motionless, unwavering, he has a "no nonsense" look about him, the shit eating grin which he usual wears is no longer there, in its place a look of stoic intensity. Trax cracks his neck before continuing to speak ::

I'm not going to beat around the bush with this. As you are both aware the time for talk is nearly over, and the time for action begins. Bad Medicine is upon us and as I have already foretold it will be a historically important event in the rich storied history of the wrestling company we are all employed for known as XWF, not because of the possibly changing hands of titles, or because we may see the finality of ongoing feuds, but because Bad Medicine marks the Age of Dominance. It is written. It cannot be prevented or stopped, and your feeble attempts of doing so will prove to be just that, feeble, when both of you fail to even slow me down.

It's been fun exchanging "pleasantries" with you both but these back and forth exchange of words are of no real effect because as we all know, wrestling matches aren't won by who can make the most creative promos or who trash talk the best, even though I pride myself on being a pretty good trash talker, it's about who can get it done in the ring. It's about who can push the boundaries of their bodies and beyond further than that of their opponents capabilities. I am always looking to push my limits, I am always looking to go further and beyond, further and beyond either of you can possibly dream of.

DMX let's start with you. I know you dream big. I now you dream of claiming a big win in your debut match and then climbing them ladders and reliving glory long past. I know you want to satisfy that hunger you feel in your stomach every time you wake up and every time you go back to sleep. Its burns at you. The longing to succeed. I've said several times already its one of the admirable traits about you, but there's only one problem.

That hunger, that gnawing sensation in the pit of your stomach. That ambition to achieve heights you have in the past and possibly ascend to even greater bigger heights. I have the same ambition. I have the same hunger. It's what connects us somewhat but what I think you will find separates us is the lengths we as individuals are willing to go to see these ambitions through, to see this insatiable hunger quenched.

You called in on the Breakfast club and spat a little freestyle. Adorable. I knew you would.You're so impressionable and easy to manipulate, like a child. All the hot punch lines, double entendres and lyrical miracles in the world aren't going to save you though. You're so called innovation skills isn't going to be the decisive factor in this match. When you're across the ring from me none of that matters, what matters is who is willing to go further and do what needs to be done to come out on top, and in all honesty I don't see you having that mentality, I'd love it for you to prove me wrong but you see DMX its like this, when I want to get something done in that ring bad enough, when I want to pick up the win bad enough, I won't stop until the other person is near dead, or I am. I have literally no regard for your well being. If I permanently injure you or worse in my attempt to win this match, then well so be it. We've all signed the contracts, if you "accidentally" get killed in that ring I won't be going to prison because of. That's the mentality I have, I am not afraid to kill or be killed to get the result I want. This is my first official match and it's at a PPV to boot, it's a must win for me, for you too, not so much for Swagmire because regardless if he wins or loses he'll just disappear again. I'm here to stay, I'm here to make an impression and get noticed and to get noticed you have to get wins, there's no other way. DMX I will murder you in that ring if that's what it takes, ask yourself, are you willing to do the same?

If the answer is no, if you know you lack that same killer instinct that I possess, then my advice to you is simple. Go to management before the match is set to be underway and opt out. I won't think less of you, in fact that would be the smartest course of action you've done so far if you did. Believe me. You'll be saving yourself heart break and avoidable injuries. I told you in my first promo this was between me and Swagmire, I was focused on unleashing a beating of biblical proportions on his bounty bar ass, getting in the way of that DMX, is as I said, an unnecessary risk. I'm giving you a way out, I'm a ruthless man, but I'm also fair.

I agree with you on one thing though, this match has the potential to be a show stealer. With or without your participation though. Every Trax match is a possibly stealer. I put ratings through the roof. Asses in seats. Co-Workers in hospital. I've said before unlike Swagmire I don't discriminate I am an equal opportunity ass kicker and people pay good money to watch me kick a diverse variety of asses. So if you don't show up to preserve your health, I can't hold it against you. But if you do show I will kick your ass from pillar to post, this is not a game, innovator of innovation? I am the innovator of pain, and if you still choice to take an unnecessary risk in getting involved in this match and facing me I will tear you to shreds.

:: Traxs eyes narrow, a hint of malice in his cold black eyes ::

Now moving on to Swagmire. I'd rather not. I've wasted enough breath on you so I won't waste much more talking about you. Air in general is wasted on you so I may just do the world a favour and put you in the dirt. I just told DMX I'm not afraid to kill him in that ring but in all honesty he's a good man and I don't want to have to do that, you though? I'd happily end your life in that ring for your incompetence, for you ignorance, for your complete disregard for this companies prestige and your utter lack of work ethic. The man whose number of matches a year can be counted on one hand and who relinquishes titles to children for his amusement, beating me, the man who trains on a daily basis, in his past company showed up as much as he could as he plans to do in his new one, and when he wins a title, holds onto it with a vice grip, until either:

a)Someone damn near kills me to get it off me

or

b) I have to vacate it due to serious injury or I vacate it myself due to claiming a bigger title.

I can't foresee it. I won't.

You've taken jabs at me for mentioning my past. You've thrown a lot of critique my way hoping something will stick. It's all irrelevant. Is the fact that I'm a Hall of Famer and multi time champion in a company now dead important here? No, but the point I've been trying to make to you Swagmire is when you get into that ring you'll see WHY I have those accolades under my belt.

But when the realization hits you that you've been over your head this whole time...it'll be too late. They'll be no escape. I will end you, end your meaningless "streak" against black wrestlers and move on to the next, and like I said to DMX win or lose you'll fuck off again anyway because you have no dedication, which is why you WON'T win because it takes both skill AND dedication to beat me, you have mediocre amounts of one and lack the other completely.

So when you're at home after all this, nursing you wounds, wallowing in self hatred and contempt, alone because your girl has left after she realizes just how much of a scumbag you are and not the type of man she should have around her kid, I'll be moving on to bigger and better things. I'll be racking up wins against people that actually matter because they actually bother to show up on a regular enough basis to be considered to be a solid presence in the company. Then I will make my way to Universal championship, slowly but surely, then the Age of Dominance will be in full effect.

::A door can be heard opening off camera and Trax turns, the camera spins and we get a view of Jackie dragging a topless man with a sack over his head covering it approaching, the man is handcuffed and on the handcuffs is a piece of rope tied to the chain which Jackie is using to drag the man towards Trax, the man's feet are also chain together. Jackie is dressed in what can only be described as dominatrix attire, black leather skirt, corset and knee high leather boots, in her free hand is a black whip, being slithered across the floor like a snake on the hunt as the pair approach :::

Ah...company.

:: Jackie throws the man on the floor at Traxs feet, a muffled cry comes out of the sack, indicating the man is also ducktaped underneath it.::

Jackie:: Down dog!

:: Trax looks down at the man before looking back at the camera ::

At Bad Medicine, the match we are in is a "Black Oppression" match, but the only people who will be oppressed along with suppressed and depressed after this match is you two, DMX and Swagmire. This match will not oppress me, no, it will act as my liberation, when I show the world once again just how dangerous, just how dominate over my opponents hence my moniker, I can truly be. You see black people as savages Swagmire, no? I will show you true savagery. With the aid of a good "friend" of mine who you're familiar with.

::: Trax bends over the man and takes the sack of his face revealing it to be Alexander Sanders the XWF try out Trax decimated the Wednesday Madfare super show just gone. His mouth is indeed duck taped, his eyes are red and swollen, his nose broken and bloody :::

This will be the scene that the world will bear witness to come Bad Medicine, me standing over both of you...with a whip in my hand...

:: Jackie hands Trax the whip ::

Then... THIS.

::Trax begins to whip Sanders relentlessly. His body contorts and writes in pain with each lashing, his screams of anguish muffled by the duck tape::.

THWACK!!!
THWACK!!!
THWACK!!!
THWACK!!!
THWACK!!!
THWACK!!!

::This continues for several minutes until Sanders body goes limp, passing out from the pain. Trax hands Jackie the whip back and turns back to the camera, sheer venom in his eyes, looking like the devil himself has took over his mind and soul::

I have only one thing left to say to both of you, come Bad Medicine you will learn the fatal life lesson so many before you have learnt, say what you will, do as you wish, but never...EVER...CROSS THE WRONG SIDE OF THE TRAX. Peace.

:: Trax and Jackie laugh manically standing over Sanders limp body as the scene comes a fade ::]]> Swag Mire. DMX-Factor.

:: Trax stands in what appears to be a dimly lit cellar, a sole flickering light bulb is above his head casting shadows across the stone walls as the man who calls himself "Mr FN' Dominance" stands there motionless, unwavering, he has a "no nonsense" look about him, the shit eating grin which he usual wears is no longer there, in its place a look of stoic intensity. Trax cracks his neck before continuing to speak ::

I'm not going to beat around the bush with this. As you are both aware the time for talk is nearly over, and the time for action begins. Bad Medicine is upon us and as I have already foretold it will be a historically important event in the rich storied history of the wrestling company we are all employed for known as XWF, not because of the possibly changing hands of titles, or because we may see the finality of ongoing feuds, but because Bad Medicine marks the Age of Dominance. It is written. It cannot be prevented or stopped, and your feeble attempts of doing so will prove to be just that, feeble, when both of you fail to even slow me down.

It's been fun exchanging "pleasantries" with you both but these back and forth exchange of words are of no real effect because as we all know, wrestling matches aren't won by who can make the most creative promos or who trash talk the best, even though I pride myself on being a pretty good trash talker, it's about who can get it done in the ring. It's about who can push the boundaries of their bodies and beyond further than that of their opponents capabilities. I am always looking to push my limits, I am always looking to go further and beyond, further and beyond either of you can possibly dream of.

DMX let's start with you. I know you dream big. I now you dream of claiming a big win in your debut match and then climbing them ladders and reliving glory long past. I know you want to satisfy that hunger you feel in your stomach every time you wake up and every time you go back to sleep. Its burns at you. The longing to succeed. I've said several times already its one of the admirable traits about you, but there's only one problem.

That hunger, that gnawing sensation in the pit of your stomach. That ambition to achieve heights you have in the past and possibly ascend to even greater bigger heights. I have the same ambition. I have the same hunger. It's what connects us somewhat but what I think you will find separates us is the lengths we as individuals are willing to go to see these ambitions through, to see this insatiable hunger quenched.

You called in on the Breakfast club and spat a little freestyle. Adorable. I knew you would.You're so impressionable and easy to manipulate, like a child. All the hot punch lines, double entendres and lyrical miracles in the world aren't going to save you though. You're so called innovation skills isn't going to be the decisive factor in this match. When you're across the ring from me none of that matters, what matters is who is willing to go further and do what needs to be done to come out on top, and in all honesty I don't see you having that mentality, I'd love it for you to prove me wrong but you see DMX its like this, when I want to get something done in that ring bad enough, when I want to pick up the win bad enough, I won't stop until the other person is near dead, or I am. I have literally no regard for your well being. If I permanently injure you or worse in my attempt to win this match, then well so be it. We've all signed the contracts, if you "accidentally" get killed in that ring I won't be going to prison because of. That's the mentality I have, I am not afraid to kill or be killed to get the result I want. This is my first official match and it's at a PPV to boot, it's a must win for me, for you too, not so much for Swagmire because regardless if he wins or loses he'll just disappear again. I'm here to stay, I'm here to make an impression and get noticed and to get noticed you have to get wins, there's no other way. DMX I will murder you in that ring if that's what it takes, ask yourself, are you willing to do the same?

If the answer is no, if you know you lack that same killer instinct that I possess, then my advice to you is simple. Go to management before the match is set to be underway and opt out. I won't think less of you, in fact that would be the smartest course of action you've done so far if you did. Believe me. You'll be saving yourself heart break and avoidable injuries. I told you in my first promo this was between me and Swagmire, I was focused on unleashing a beating of biblical proportions on his bounty bar ass, getting in the way of that DMX, is as I said, an unnecessary risk. I'm giving you a way out, I'm a ruthless man, but I'm also fair.

I agree with you on one thing though, this match has the potential to be a show stealer. With or without your participation though. Every Trax match is a possibly stealer. I put ratings through the roof. Asses in seats. Co-Workers in hospital. I've said before unlike Swagmire I don't discriminate I am an equal opportunity ass kicker and people pay good money to watch me kick a diverse variety of asses. So if you don't show up to preserve your health, I can't hold it against you. But if you do show I will kick your ass from pillar to post, this is not a game, innovator of innovation? I am the innovator of pain, and if you still choice to take an unnecessary risk in getting involved in this match and facing me I will tear you to shreds.

:: Traxs eyes narrow, a hint of malice in his cold black eyes ::

Now moving on to Swagmire. I'd rather not. I've wasted enough breath on you so I won't waste much more talking about you. Air in general is wasted on you so I may just do the world a favour and put you in the dirt. I just told DMX I'm not afraid to kill him in that ring but in all honesty he's a good man and I don't want to have to do that, you though? I'd happily end your life in that ring for your incompetence, for you ignorance, for your complete disregard for this companies prestige and your utter lack of work ethic. The man whose number of matches a year can be counted on one hand and who relinquishes titles to children for his amusement, beating me, the man who trains on a daily basis, in his past company showed up as much as he could as he plans to do in his new one, and when he wins a title, holds onto it with a vice grip, until either:

a)Someone damn near kills me to get it off me

or

b) I have to vacate it due to serious injury or I vacate it myself due to claiming a bigger title.

I can't foresee it. I won't.

You've taken jabs at me for mentioning my past. You've thrown a lot of critique my way hoping something will stick. It's all irrelevant. Is the fact that I'm a Hall of Famer and multi time champion in a company now dead important here? No, but the point I've been trying to make to you Swagmire is when you get into that ring you'll see WHY I have those accolades under my belt.

But when the realization hits you that you've been over your head this whole time...it'll be too late. They'll be no escape. I will end you, end your meaningless "streak" against black wrestlers and move on to the next, and like I said to DMX win or lose you'll fuck off again anyway because you have no dedication, which is why you WON'T win because it takes both skill AND dedication to beat me, you have mediocre amounts of one and lack the other completely.

So when you're at home after all this, nursing you wounds, wallowing in self hatred and contempt, alone because your girl has left after she realizes just how much of a scumbag you are and not the type of man she should have around her kid, I'll be moving on to bigger and better things. I'll be racking up wins against people that actually matter because they actually bother to show up on a regular enough basis to be considered to be a solid presence in the company. Then I will make my way to Universal championship, slowly but surely, then the Age of Dominance will be in full effect.

::A door can be heard opening off camera and Trax turns, the camera spins and we get a view of Jackie dragging a topless man with a sack over his head covering it approaching, the man is handcuffed and on the handcuffs is a piece of rope tied to the chain which Jackie is using to drag the man towards Trax, the man's feet are also chain together. Jackie is dressed in what can only be described as dominatrix attire, black leather skirt, corset and knee high leather boots, in her free hand is a black whip, being slithered across the floor like a snake on the hunt as the pair approach :::

Ah...company.

:: Jackie throws the man on the floor at Traxs feet, a muffled cry comes out of the sack, indicating the man is also ducktaped underneath it.::

Jackie:: Down dog!

:: Trax looks down at the man before looking back at the camera ::

At Bad Medicine, the match we are in is a "Black Oppression" match, but the only people who will be oppressed along with suppressed and depressed after this match is you two, DMX and Swagmire. This match will not oppress me, no, it will act as my liberation, when I show the world once again just how dangerous, just how dominate over my opponents hence my moniker, I can truly be. You see black people as savages Swagmire, no? I will show you true savagery. With the aid of a good "friend" of mine who you're familiar with.

::: Trax bends over the man and takes the sack of his face revealing it to be Alexander Sanders the XWF try out Trax decimated the Wednesday Madfare super show just gone. His mouth is indeed duck taped, his eyes are red and swollen, his nose broken and bloody :::

This will be the scene that the world will bear witness to come Bad Medicine, me standing over both of you...with a whip in my hand...

:: Jackie hands Trax the whip ::

Then... THIS.

::Trax begins to whip Sanders relentlessly. His body contorts and writes in pain with each lashing, his screams of anguish muffled by the duck tape::.

THWACK!!!
THWACK!!!
THWACK!!!
THWACK!!!
THWACK!!!
THWACK!!!

::This continues for several minutes until Sanders body goes limp, passing out from the pain. Trax hands Jackie the whip back and turns back to the camera, sheer venom in his eyes, looking like the devil himself has took over his mind and soul::

I have only one thing left to say to both of you, come Bad Medicine you will learn the fatal life lesson so many before you have learnt, say what you will, do as you wish, but never...EVER...CROSS THE WRONG SIDE OF THE TRAX. Peace.

:: Trax and Jackie laugh manically standing over Sanders limp body as the scene comes a fade ::]]> <![CDATA[Shooting Star - Demise]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20085 Fri, 22 May 2015 22:49:36 -0700 Doctor Louis D'Ville]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20085




                                                                                                                              


























































[Image: HoHFc0V.png?1]










[Image: XyTjvsM.png]


"Don't compromise yourself. You're all you've got."

― Janice Joplin (1/19/1943 - 10/4/1970)


[Image: Kd641BT.png]

She means, don't do anything she wouldn't do.


The conclusion . . .

The Doctor and his patient exit the small theater through the entrance from which they came and step back into the Doctor's office. Much to their surprise, the Mirror of Mastermind is no longer lying and burning in the fire, it is standing upright in front of the Doctor's desk.

What the fuck?

Interesting . . .

The mirror had no marks and no burns. It wasn't scratched and didn't have a speck of dirt on it. The Ex-Detective stormed over to it and looked deep into his own reflection. He feels a bit hazy for a moment before he loses his balance and slowly begins falling into the mirror. The hands of his reflection reach out to catch him, but the Doctor watches the Ex-Detective by the back of the collar and pulls him away. When he falls back he breaks eye contact with the mirror and snaps out of whatever trance he was under. He shakes his head left to right and watches the Doctor throw a curtain over top of the mirror.

I'm quite certain I mentioned to ignore the mirror.

It was your idea to come check on it. And now it's apparently indestructible and possessed. What do you want to do with it Doc?

Throw it back in the case. We'll dispose if it soon enough, Trevor.

You got it, Doc.

The Ex-Detective picks himself up off of the floor and picks up the mirror. He lays the the covered magic mirror into the straw from which it came and threw the large wooden lid back on top of the crate.


The pickup truck struggled to keep up to sixty five miles per hour. As soon as it began climbing the hill it started losing speed and the entire climb was a struggle for the old truck. In the passenger seat is the Doctor. Sitting, smiling, and smoking away at one of his fine cigars, he watches the landscape as it slowly creeps by him. Beside him, driving the truck, is his patient, the Ex-Detective.

Lying in the bed leaning against the one side is the large crate. It's just a little to big to fit perfectly. With every bump the truck hits, the crate smacks around and nearly flies off of the truck.

Mind the crate, Trevor. We don't want to waste any time stopping to retrieve it, hm?

I can't go too fast in this piece of shit truck, Lou.

Just like old times, isn't it?

You mean driving EVERYWHERE in some of the shittiest vehicles I've ever seen in my entire life? Yeah, just like old times, Doc.

The Doctor chuckles a bit and carries on watching the landscape.

Yes, just like old times.

Mister Lane, I see that you're still taking this week quite lightly under the circumstances. Late bed times with your little porn bunny. Midnight texting with Thunderbolt X. There's a friend you could use. Someone who worships the ground you vomit on. There's something about the guy that just rubs me the wrong way . . . Oh, that's right, his glorious efforts during our Lethal Lottery Match. The poor lad obviously has no idea who's who around here, otherwise I'm sure he would have played it a little smarter. Then again, I've seen worse. Maybe the kid has no smarts in that head of his. It would makes sense since he placed someone like the Loverboy at the top of the shrine inside of his locker. It doesn't surprise me that you'd waste your time with someone like him, Mister Loverboy. You're a megastar, am I right? You need fans. You need them to feed your ego, feed your faith in your own performance, and feed your strengths. Without the millions of fans at ne of your little rockstar shows, what kind of show would it be? You may as well go home, Vinnie Lane. The thousands that surround you when you approach the ring to shed your blood, sweat, and tears just for them. You need them too. There would be no Vinnie Lane without the people, would there?

What a waste of time.

Have you always cared of what other people have thought of you around here? I think you have. One good example is the President of the Loverboy fan club, Thunderbolt X. Like I said, anything to feed that ego of yours just makes you erupt. And I know you're not weak, Vinnie. You're a strong individual. Anytime someone's really crawled under your skin you've had the ability to just ignore it and let it pass. Be passive. Not make a little pissy-fit scene. There's something someone can respect.

If it were true.

Pissy-fits.

Mister Lane that's the difference between you and I. The Doctor cares nothing about the cheers he receives from the crowd around him. The arena turns red, smoke fills there air, and I walk to the ring while the spectators watch in silence. I suppose it's because they're unimpressed with my entrance or my presence even. My patients sit in silence out of respect for their Doctor. They watch as their champion . . . Their King . . . Their Higher Power makes his way into his next session to prove to the world once again that he belongs where is today. No matter my age, no matter how you think I would perform in bed, Mister Lane, I walk away from my matches victorious. It's not that I mostly win. It's not that I sometimes lose. I always win, with one exception.

Time's running short, Mister Loverboy. After months in waiting for another chance to face the Doctor, you'll finally have your chance. You claim walking away the Universal Champion at Bad Medicine is your destiny. That you were born to take me out. This is why you're here in the XWF. What are you, my friend? Some kind of super hero here to save the day? You're not a hero. You're not an idol. You're not a mega star. Not anymore at least. You see, the little jabs that your little sex-dummy throws at you aren't all just fun and games. There's a little truth behind it all, Mister Lane. You claim that my age is a factor in all of this? You're the one that's falling apart here.

Not to mention the 'age' thing gets a little old. I mean, 'old man' and 'geezer' and such, I get it. I'm Father Time, people. But since when has the appearance of my age had any effect on the outcomes of my sessions? How many times did Papa Doc need to take a time out in the middle of the match to strap the breathing matchine to his face for a breather? Or leave the ring for a glass of water to take his pills? Give me a break, Mister Lane. You're better than all of this. There you are, lying naked in your bed next to your love calling out your good buddy Doc's age.

True love. Is that what you're experiencing right now, Mister Lane? A sex-driven relationship is always healthy and the trust you two have for each other is unbelievable. It's amazing that after all the time that you've spent on the road, my friend, that the two of you have continued to stay so very loyal to one another. It's quite a sight. The type of thing that parts the clouds and makes angel's appear. The type of thing that changes people. The type of thing that ruins lives. If you cared enough about the XWF, your fans, and your career here you'd tell the tramp to cool her jets and let you concentrate. Drop the charade and put up your dukes, Vinnie. As much as you make it sound like one, this is no joke. I am no joke. I'm not one of your simple routine title defenses on Monday Madness, Mister Lane. You talked about the stakes being much higher right now, but do you really see that? Do you really see what lies before you at Bad Medicine? It's your chance to put all of those simple little wins you've accumulated the past nine months and make them matter. Make them mean something. Because you know what they are right now? Empty victories. You may as well have fought Peter Gilmour fifteen times in a row. Empty victories, Mister Lane. After I show you that all of this practice you've been doing all this time has been a waste, you'll truely see that the Doctor is perfectly capable of evolving with the times around here. Being a champion for nearly half my career here hasn't made me lazy. It hasn't made me any less of a competitor I was when I first arrived here. If anything, it's made me stronger. It's made me renowned. Everyone here knows what I'm capable of and they have no desire to even come close to me.

I know why you were biding your time as the Number One Contender for so long. Bragging week in and week out as if it was some kind of special title to claim. You certainly have some amazing ways to showing your prowess. You were biding your time and waiting just in case the Doctor screwed up. Maybe someone would come along before you Mister Lane and take care of the dirty work for you. Then, you of course being the next best thing, could easily waltz in and claim your victory. That didn't pan out though did it? It's about time you pulled those balls out of Barbie's mouth and threw them on the table. The hunger still lives inside me, Mister Lane. You may think it's gone because when I look up, there's nothing else to claim. I have it all. The crown. I was an undefeated X-Treme Champion. I was Mister Money in the Bank. And now, I am the Universal Champion. The wait you put me through just made me hungrier Mister Lane. I've swept through the roster like a hurricane and I'm nearly to the point where I can begin my victory lap. There's only a few names on the list of competitors that have yet been laid to sleep by the Doctor. I'm sure their day will come long before my final day here in the XWF. But for now, the spotlight's on you, Vinnie. Just like it should be, right? That precious lime light that you crave. The fame and fortune that you crave.

You're like a shooting star.

It passes by for just a moment. It could be the prettiest thing you've ever seen. For that split second, it could soak up the attention of thousands of people all at once. Then as quick as it appeared, it was gone.

Do you think the XWF needs a champion thats . . . Pretty? Someone that the world could look up to, huh? Hmm. I don't think it would say much for what the XWF is all about to have an actual poster boy as the poster boy of the XWF. You want to save the XWF? The XWF does not NEED saved, Mister Lane. I find myself to be a pretty good King, to be honest. Much like the one's of the past. I didn't place the XWF under my thumb, I'm not a vicous dictator that makes the rules. I'm a simpleton like yourself. This crown you claim is empty? I believe it was an empty crown when Mister Gilmour held it, my friend. What makes it empty now that I am the King?? Because someone like you did not participate in the tournament to claim it? Well, fancy that. Your "good friend" Gator was there. He bailed in the second round, but we won't get into that. You not participating in that match was a simple sign showing that you knew the outcome before it even happened. You knew that the Doctor would rise as the King. Perhaps the look of the crown on my head has grown a bite stale in your eyes. It has been quite some time since I've won the tournament. Regardless, it is what it is. When the tournament rolls around again, I'll win it again, just like this year. Just like I do everytime I step into the ring. Will it mean something then? Or will you have some trio's match or something much more important to worry about by then? Let me guess? A Universal Title defense? Keep dreaming, Mister Lane.

I enjoyed your history lesson. About your patriotism and how you plan to jump aboard the cycling universe and change the world. Ending my reign of terror. Pulling the XWF back into the light. Do you think if you become the Universal Champion it's going to bring the XWF back to your so called, 'days of glory'? The second you raise the title above your head, do you believe Eli James will come knocking back on the XWF's doors? Do you think Maverick gave up because he knew that he'd never amount to becoming the Universal Champion? Were the King's just bored? Mister Lane you've never proven that you can carry any type of burden here in the XWF. You proved you can compete with second rate competition and the potential 'futures' of the XWF. That Hart Title around your waist says it all. Show champion. Go defend it. I'll keep my crown and my Universal Championship, you keep that one. But let me tell ya, once you fall to the Doctor for the second time and lose your chance at being the Universal Champion, that Hart Title is going to look like shit to you. A piece of crap draped across your shoulder that will always remind you that you couldn't do it. That you can't do it. So, maybe after this Saturday, you'll realize that you should just stick to what your good at. Keep the lower carders in place and keep Monday that middle card as exciting as can be. Maybe you could go after that Federweight Title one more time. It's silly you bring that up, Mister Lane. The Federweight Title was something that was pretty exciting when it first arrived. I even participated in the battle royal to be the first holder of it! Unfortunately, I did not succeed. My precious Violator did. A perfect fit, if you ask the Doctor. Claiming that it was a way for me to test the water with you is ridiculous. I saw it more of an opportunity to drop by and say 'Hello'. After all, whether we were in direct contact for the duration of our waiting period, you still felt the effects of the Doctor. Sending my army after you, attacking you behind the scenes, shaving your head . . . All fun and games, my friend! What a better way to get someone's attention and remind them of who's watching them then by abducting them? Of course I'm not sure you knew it was me behind the scenes at that point, but hell, it's not like my point didn't get across.

It all comes down to this, Loverboy. All of the times I've left my opponent beaten, face down on the mat. All of the times that I pulled the wool over everyone's eyes and just squeaked by. Everything I've done since August, everything I've earned comes down to one night. Am I hoax? You sure make it sound that way. Keep pretending that I hand picked my patients time and time again and did nothing to truely impress. Watch a few more of my matches, Mister Lane. You claim that I'm not unbeatable, which is of course true. It's been proven. The Doctor can be beat. Just like you. Just like Gator. Just like all of those legends you named off . . . But am I going to be beat by you, Mister Lane? It's not going to happen.

You want to be a hero? Do what you mega stars do and go pick out a kid in the Make-a-Wish program and sing them a song. Let them hear that pretty voice of yours. Maybe even let them hold that Hart Title of yours.

This Dark Age that you claim to see around the XWF is just you with your eye's closed. Open them. Open them and see the perfect world that I've created for all of you. The Hart Title is as far as you'll go, so don't bother looking up anymore, Loverboy. Get comfortable. There's nothing for you up here.

The Ex-Detective hits another bump coming down from the top of another hill and the crate in the back smacks around a few more times. It slides back and hits the back window causing the Ex-Detective to nearly jump out of his seat.

Jesus Christ!

He swerves the vehicle into the other lane.

Why the hell didn't we strap this thing down?

Just pace yourself a bit, Trevor. We're in no hurry at this point. We'll dispose of the mirror and begin our plans to dispose of Mister Lane.

Yeah, about that. With you fella's locked in a cage like you are... It's going to be a little difficult to ---

Your mission has NOTHING to do with our session, Mister Dedtnik. You leave Mister Lane to me at first. His fate will be decided soon after.

But, you still want me to kill him right?

Saying that, another bump along this horribly paved highway jostles the crate enough that it bounces into the air and busts open! The Ex-Detective swerves the vehicle and again and swears aloud as he looks back.

As he turns his eyes back to the road, he realizes the Doctor is gone from the passenger seat.

Awe, not this shit again.

HONK!

HOOOOONK!!!

The Ex-Detective looks straight ahead and is met with the high beams of a large mac truck heading straight for him. He whips the wheel back to the right, a little too hard, and sends the truck off the road and down a bank. It slides down on it's side and eventually flips over a couple of times before it lands on it's roof. The vehicle instantly catches fire. Luckily for the Ex-Detective, he didn't lose conciousness. He slowly crawls out of the open passenger side window and climbs to his feet. He panics for a moment, but quickly gains his senses as he sees the broken crate about halfway down the hill from where he fell. He climbs up and slowly reaches the crate. Surprisingly, the wreck didn't completely destroy it. He pulls a few boards away from it and begins digging through the straw.

The crate is empty. Where is the Mirror of Mastermind?!

The Ex-Detective loses his balance and stumbles back down the hill to the bottom. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crushed pack of cigarettes. He salvages one from the pack and lights it. It's at the moment he lights his cigarette the truck explodes and sends him flying back on his backside. This hurt more than the actual wreck he thought. He sits up and rubs his neck. The cigarette that he just threw in his mouth was now broken in half. He swears to himself as he picks himself back up and turns around.

He's face to face with his own reflection.

The mirror did it again. It somehow found itself standing, even after several attempts at destroying it. The Ex-Detective looks directly into the eyes of the reflection and is stunned when it leaps through the mirror and attacks him!

The two roll around on the ground as they choke, punch, and kick each other. The Doctor stands over the two of them and watches as they fight each other to the death. The Ex-Detective reaches behind him in his pants and pulls a pistol from it and tries aiming it at his reflection. The reflection fights back and throws the gun from the Ex-Detectives grasp and it slides across the dirt a few feet away from them. They've shuffled around so much, it would be difficult for anyone to be able to tell who is who.

One of them manages to gain the upper hand and straddle the other. He reaches down and begins choking the one on the ground with both hands. Dirt flies up and hits him in the face and he falls off of the victim. As the one Ex-Detective rubs the dirt out of his eyes, the other slowly crawls over to retrieve the pistol. He just touches it with his fingertips as he feels a tug on his one leg. His instant reaction was to lift his other leg and kick the grappler in the face. After he's freed up he manages to reach up and grab the pistol off of the ground. He rolls to his back, holds the pistol with both hands, and points it at his "twin".

He froze as he watched a form of himself fall backwards with a hole between their eyes, which lied open and crossed as if watching the smoke pour out of the bullet hole.

The Doctor grins and step forward towards the Ex-Detective.

Now, I told you to be more careful around that mirror, Trevor.

The Ex-Detective snaps out of his frozen state and stares at the Doctor now. He pulls the pistol up again and holds it with both hands, pointing it straight at the Doctor.

Oh, I see. Still don't trust me, hm? What do you plan on doing with that?

I'm done being your puppet.

The Ex-Detective then turns the gun on himself and shoves the barrel into his mouth.

NO!

As the trigger is pulled and the loud, deafening ringing pierces through the Ex-Detective's ears. The last thing he can hear is the demonic howl of the Doctor cursing him.


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[Image: HoHFc0V.png?1]










[Image: XyTjvsM.png]


"Don't compromise yourself. You're all you've got."

― Janice Joplin (1/19/1943 - 10/4/1970)


[Image: Kd641BT.png]

She means, don't do anything she wouldn't do.


The conclusion . . .

The Doctor and his patient exit the small theater through the entrance from which they came and step back into the Doctor's office. Much to their surprise, the Mirror of Mastermind is no longer lying and burning in the fire, it is standing upright in front of the Doctor's desk.

What the fuck?

Interesting . . .

The mirror had no marks and no burns. It wasn't scratched and didn't have a speck of dirt on it. The Ex-Detective stormed over to it and looked deep into his own reflection. He feels a bit hazy for a moment before he loses his balance and slowly begins falling into the mirror. The hands of his reflection reach out to catch him, but the Doctor watches the Ex-Detective by the back of the collar and pulls him away. When he falls back he breaks eye contact with the mirror and snaps out of whatever trance he was under. He shakes his head left to right and watches the Doctor throw a curtain over top of the mirror.

I'm quite certain I mentioned to ignore the mirror.

It was your idea to come check on it. And now it's apparently indestructible and possessed. What do you want to do with it Doc?

Throw it back in the case. We'll dispose if it soon enough, Trevor.

You got it, Doc.

The Ex-Detective picks himself up off of the floor and picks up the mirror. He lays the the covered magic mirror into the straw from which it came and threw the large wooden lid back on top of the crate.


The pickup truck struggled to keep up to sixty five miles per hour. As soon as it began climbing the hill it started losing speed and the entire climb was a struggle for the old truck. In the passenger seat is the Doctor. Sitting, smiling, and smoking away at one of his fine cigars, he watches the landscape as it slowly creeps by him. Beside him, driving the truck, is his patient, the Ex-Detective.

Lying in the bed leaning against the one side is the large crate. It's just a little to big to fit perfectly. With every bump the truck hits, the crate smacks around and nearly flies off of the truck.

Mind the crate, Trevor. We don't want to waste any time stopping to retrieve it, hm?

I can't go too fast in this piece of shit truck, Lou.

Just like old times, isn't it?

You mean driving EVERYWHERE in some of the shittiest vehicles I've ever seen in my entire life? Yeah, just like old times, Doc.

The Doctor chuckles a bit and carries on watching the landscape.

Yes, just like old times.

Mister Lane, I see that you're still taking this week quite lightly under the circumstances. Late bed times with your little porn bunny. Midnight texting with Thunderbolt X. There's a friend you could use. Someone who worships the ground you vomit on. There's something about the guy that just rubs me the wrong way . . . Oh, that's right, his glorious efforts during our Lethal Lottery Match. The poor lad obviously has no idea who's who around here, otherwise I'm sure he would have played it a little smarter. Then again, I've seen worse. Maybe the kid has no smarts in that head of his. It would makes sense since he placed someone like the Loverboy at the top of the shrine inside of his locker. It doesn't surprise me that you'd waste your time with someone like him, Mister Loverboy. You're a megastar, am I right? You need fans. You need them to feed your ego, feed your faith in your own performance, and feed your strengths. Without the millions of fans at ne of your little rockstar shows, what kind of show would it be? You may as well go home, Vinnie Lane. The thousands that surround you when you approach the ring to shed your blood, sweat, and tears just for them. You need them too. There would be no Vinnie Lane without the people, would there?

What a waste of time.

Have you always cared of what other people have thought of you around here? I think you have. One good example is the President of the Loverboy fan club, Thunderbolt X. Like I said, anything to feed that ego of yours just makes you erupt. And I know you're not weak, Vinnie. You're a strong individual. Anytime someone's really crawled under your skin you've had the ability to just ignore it and let it pass. Be passive. Not make a little pissy-fit scene. There's something someone can respect.

If it were true.

Pissy-fits.

Mister Lane that's the difference between you and I. The Doctor cares nothing about the cheers he receives from the crowd around him. The arena turns red, smoke fills there air, and I walk to the ring while the spectators watch in silence. I suppose it's because they're unimpressed with my entrance or my presence even. My patients sit in silence out of respect for their Doctor. They watch as their champion . . . Their King . . . Their Higher Power makes his way into his next session to prove to the world once again that he belongs where is today. No matter my age, no matter how you think I would perform in bed, Mister Lane, I walk away from my matches victorious. It's not that I mostly win. It's not that I sometimes lose. I always win, with one exception.

Time's running short, Mister Loverboy. After months in waiting for another chance to face the Doctor, you'll finally have your chance. You claim walking away the Universal Champion at Bad Medicine is your destiny. That you were born to take me out. This is why you're here in the XWF. What are you, my friend? Some kind of super hero here to save the day? You're not a hero. You're not an idol. You're not a mega star. Not anymore at least. You see, the little jabs that your little sex-dummy throws at you aren't all just fun and games. There's a little truth behind it all, Mister Lane. You claim that my age is a factor in all of this? You're the one that's falling apart here.

Not to mention the 'age' thing gets a little old. I mean, 'old man' and 'geezer' and such, I get it. I'm Father Time, people. But since when has the appearance of my age had any effect on the outcomes of my sessions? How many times did Papa Doc need to take a time out in the middle of the match to strap the breathing matchine to his face for a breather? Or leave the ring for a glass of water to take his pills? Give me a break, Mister Lane. You're better than all of this. There you are, lying naked in your bed next to your love calling out your good buddy Doc's age.

True love. Is that what you're experiencing right now, Mister Lane? A sex-driven relationship is always healthy and the trust you two have for each other is unbelievable. It's amazing that after all the time that you've spent on the road, my friend, that the two of you have continued to stay so very loyal to one another. It's quite a sight. The type of thing that parts the clouds and makes angel's appear. The type of thing that changes people. The type of thing that ruins lives. If you cared enough about the XWF, your fans, and your career here you'd tell the tramp to cool her jets and let you concentrate. Drop the charade and put up your dukes, Vinnie. As much as you make it sound like one, this is no joke. I am no joke. I'm not one of your simple routine title defenses on Monday Madness, Mister Lane. You talked about the stakes being much higher right now, but do you really see that? Do you really see what lies before you at Bad Medicine? It's your chance to put all of those simple little wins you've accumulated the past nine months and make them matter. Make them mean something. Because you know what they are right now? Empty victories. You may as well have fought Peter Gilmour fifteen times in a row. Empty victories, Mister Lane. After I show you that all of this practice you've been doing all this time has been a waste, you'll truely see that the Doctor is perfectly capable of evolving with the times around here. Being a champion for nearly half my career here hasn't made me lazy. It hasn't made me any less of a competitor I was when I first arrived here. If anything, it's made me stronger. It's made me renowned. Everyone here knows what I'm capable of and they have no desire to even come close to me.

I know why you were biding your time as the Number One Contender for so long. Bragging week in and week out as if it was some kind of special title to claim. You certainly have some amazing ways to showing your prowess. You were biding your time and waiting just in case the Doctor screwed up. Maybe someone would come along before you Mister Lane and take care of the dirty work for you. Then, you of course being the next best thing, could easily waltz in and claim your victory. That didn't pan out though did it? It's about time you pulled those balls out of Barbie's mouth and threw them on the table. The hunger still lives inside me, Mister Lane. You may think it's gone because when I look up, there's nothing else to claim. I have it all. The crown. I was an undefeated X-Treme Champion. I was Mister Money in the Bank. And now, I am the Universal Champion. The wait you put me through just made me hungrier Mister Lane. I've swept through the roster like a hurricane and I'm nearly to the point where I can begin my victory lap. There's only a few names on the list of competitors that have yet been laid to sleep by the Doctor. I'm sure their day will come long before my final day here in the XWF. But for now, the spotlight's on you, Vinnie. Just like it should be, right? That precious lime light that you crave. The fame and fortune that you crave.

You're like a shooting star.

It passes by for just a moment. It could be the prettiest thing you've ever seen. For that split second, it could soak up the attention of thousands of people all at once. Then as quick as it appeared, it was gone.

Do you think the XWF needs a champion thats . . . Pretty? Someone that the world could look up to, huh? Hmm. I don't think it would say much for what the XWF is all about to have an actual poster boy as the poster boy of the XWF. You want to save the XWF? The XWF does not NEED saved, Mister Lane. I find myself to be a pretty good King, to be honest. Much like the one's of the past. I didn't place the XWF under my thumb, I'm not a vicous dictator that makes the rules. I'm a simpleton like yourself. This crown you claim is empty? I believe it was an empty crown when Mister Gilmour held it, my friend. What makes it empty now that I am the King?? Because someone like you did not participate in the tournament to claim it? Well, fancy that. Your "good friend" Gator was there. He bailed in the second round, but we won't get into that. You not participating in that match was a simple sign showing that you knew the outcome before it even happened. You knew that the Doctor would rise as the King. Perhaps the look of the crown on my head has grown a bite stale in your eyes. It has been quite some time since I've won the tournament. Regardless, it is what it is. When the tournament rolls around again, I'll win it again, just like this year. Just like I do everytime I step into the ring. Will it mean something then? Or will you have some trio's match or something much more important to worry about by then? Let me guess? A Universal Title defense? Keep dreaming, Mister Lane.

I enjoyed your history lesson. About your patriotism and how you plan to jump aboard the cycling universe and change the world. Ending my reign of terror. Pulling the XWF back into the light. Do you think if you become the Universal Champion it's going to bring the XWF back to your so called, 'days of glory'? The second you raise the title above your head, do you believe Eli James will come knocking back on the XWF's doors? Do you think Maverick gave up because he knew that he'd never amount to becoming the Universal Champion? Were the King's just bored? Mister Lane you've never proven that you can carry any type of burden here in the XWF. You proved you can compete with second rate competition and the potential 'futures' of the XWF. That Hart Title around your waist says it all. Show champion. Go defend it. I'll keep my crown and my Universal Championship, you keep that one. But let me tell ya, once you fall to the Doctor for the second time and lose your chance at being the Universal Champion, that Hart Title is going to look like shit to you. A piece of crap draped across your shoulder that will always remind you that you couldn't do it. That you can't do it. So, maybe after this Saturday, you'll realize that you should just stick to what your good at. Keep the lower carders in place and keep Monday that middle card as exciting as can be. Maybe you could go after that Federweight Title one more time. It's silly you bring that up, Mister Lane. The Federweight Title was something that was pretty exciting when it first arrived. I even participated in the battle royal to be the first holder of it! Unfortunately, I did not succeed. My precious Violator did. A perfect fit, if you ask the Doctor. Claiming that it was a way for me to test the water with you is ridiculous. I saw it more of an opportunity to drop by and say 'Hello'. After all, whether we were in direct contact for the duration of our waiting period, you still felt the effects of the Doctor. Sending my army after you, attacking you behind the scenes, shaving your head . . . All fun and games, my friend! What a better way to get someone's attention and remind them of who's watching them then by abducting them? Of course I'm not sure you knew it was me behind the scenes at that point, but hell, it's not like my point didn't get across.

It all comes down to this, Loverboy. All of the times I've left my opponent beaten, face down on the mat. All of the times that I pulled the wool over everyone's eyes and just squeaked by. Everything I've done since August, everything I've earned comes down to one night. Am I hoax? You sure make it sound that way. Keep pretending that I hand picked my patients time and time again and did nothing to truely impress. Watch a few more of my matches, Mister Lane. You claim that I'm not unbeatable, which is of course true. It's been proven. The Doctor can be beat. Just like you. Just like Gator. Just like all of those legends you named off . . . But am I going to be beat by you, Mister Lane? It's not going to happen.

You want to be a hero? Do what you mega stars do and go pick out a kid in the Make-a-Wish program and sing them a song. Let them hear that pretty voice of yours. Maybe even let them hold that Hart Title of yours.

This Dark Age that you claim to see around the XWF is just you with your eye's closed. Open them. Open them and see the perfect world that I've created for all of you. The Hart Title is as far as you'll go, so don't bother looking up anymore, Loverboy. Get comfortable. There's nothing for you up here.

The Ex-Detective hits another bump coming down from the top of another hill and the crate in the back smacks around a few more times. It slides back and hits the back window causing the Ex-Detective to nearly jump out of his seat.

Jesus Christ!

He swerves the vehicle into the other lane.

Why the hell didn't we strap this thing down?

Just pace yourself a bit, Trevor. We're in no hurry at this point. We'll dispose of the mirror and begin our plans to dispose of Mister Lane.

Yeah, about that. With you fella's locked in a cage like you are... It's going to be a little difficult to ---

Your mission has NOTHING to do with our session, Mister Dedtnik. You leave Mister Lane to me at first. His fate will be decided soon after.

But, you still want me to kill him right?

Saying that, another bump along this horribly paved highway jostles the crate enough that it bounces into the air and busts open! The Ex-Detective swerves the vehicle and again and swears aloud as he looks back.

As he turns his eyes back to the road, he realizes the Doctor is gone from the passenger seat.

Awe, not this shit again.

HONK!

HOOOOONK!!!

The Ex-Detective looks straight ahead and is met with the high beams of a large mac truck heading straight for him. He whips the wheel back to the right, a little too hard, and sends the truck off the road and down a bank. It slides down on it's side and eventually flips over a couple of times before it lands on it's roof. The vehicle instantly catches fire. Luckily for the Ex-Detective, he didn't lose conciousness. He slowly crawls out of the open passenger side window and climbs to his feet. He panics for a moment, but quickly gains his senses as he sees the broken crate about halfway down the hill from where he fell. He climbs up and slowly reaches the crate. Surprisingly, the wreck didn't completely destroy it. He pulls a few boards away from it and begins digging through the straw.

The crate is empty. Where is the Mirror of Mastermind?!

The Ex-Detective loses his balance and stumbles back down the hill to the bottom. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crushed pack of cigarettes. He salvages one from the pack and lights it. It's at the moment he lights his cigarette the truck explodes and sends him flying back on his backside. This hurt more than the actual wreck he thought. He sits up and rubs his neck. The cigarette that he just threw in his mouth was now broken in half. He swears to himself as he picks himself back up and turns around.

He's face to face with his own reflection.

The mirror did it again. It somehow found itself standing, even after several attempts at destroying it. The Ex-Detective looks directly into the eyes of the reflection and is stunned when it leaps through the mirror and attacks him!

The two roll around on the ground as they choke, punch, and kick each other. The Doctor stands over the two of them and watches as they fight each other to the death. The Ex-Detective reaches behind him in his pants and pulls a pistol from it and tries aiming it at his reflection. The reflection fights back and throws the gun from the Ex-Detectives grasp and it slides across the dirt a few feet away from them. They've shuffled around so much, it would be difficult for anyone to be able to tell who is who.

One of them manages to gain the upper hand and straddle the other. He reaches down and begins choking the one on the ground with both hands. Dirt flies up and hits him in the face and he falls off of the victim. As the one Ex-Detective rubs the dirt out of his eyes, the other slowly crawls over to retrieve the pistol. He just touches it with his fingertips as he feels a tug on his one leg. His instant reaction was to lift his other leg and kick the grappler in the face. After he's freed up he manages to reach up and grab the pistol off of the ground. He rolls to his back, holds the pistol with both hands, and points it at his "twin".

He froze as he watched a form of himself fall backwards with a hole between their eyes, which lied open and crossed as if watching the smoke pour out of the bullet hole.

The Doctor grins and step forward towards the Ex-Detective.

Now, I told you to be more careful around that mirror, Trevor.

The Ex-Detective snaps out of his frozen state and stares at the Doctor now. He pulls the pistol up again and holds it with both hands, pointing it straight at the Doctor.

Oh, I see. Still don't trust me, hm? What do you plan on doing with that?

I'm done being your puppet.

The Ex-Detective then turns the gun on himself and shoves the barrel into his mouth.

NO!

As the trigger is pulled and the loud, deafening ringing pierces through the Ex-Detective's ears. The last thing he can hear is the demonic howl of the Doctor cursing him.


]]> <![CDATA["Loverboy" - King Nothing]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20084 Fri, 22 May 2015 21:22:36 -0700 Vincent Lane]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20084


They say history repeats itself.

I’m no expert, that’s for sure, at least not about things like that… but man, I have been around the block a time or two and seen things that make you believe it.

Things come around full circle a lot of the time, you know? Like an ourobouros, the snake that devours itself, or the way the phoenix rises from its own ashes every time it’s consumed by flame.

Not you, Ghost Tank, shut up.

The thing is though, I believe things come around again so that we have a chance to make it right. If we only ever got one shot at things… well, we’d never get the chance to be better, would we?

Doctor Louis D’Ville calls himself the king of the XWF. It’s a title he won in a tournament I didn’t take part in. It’s an empty crown.

Why? Because since Doc has been on top of the XWF, the entire thing has gone into the shitter. Look around. Look at the mass exodus of talent from these halls. My friend Gator’s gone, after what Doc did to him. The Three Kings? All retired or on hiatus. Eli James is gone. Even newer notable names like Austin Fernando or Justin Sane… the guys who were supposed to be the bright future of the XWF… gone.

Shit, even Maverick left. Let that sink in. MAVERICK has better things to do than spend his time in the XWF.

When you have a dictator sitting at the top and calling all the shots, you lose what makes you great.

Listen, I’m an American, and I’m a proud one. My father took a bullet in a Vietnamese jungle and he reminded me every day of his life that he was a tougher son of a bitch than I could ever hope to be. And you know what? He was right. I wouldn’t have wanted to fight him even on his deathbed. He knew about heart, about the fight, and about the desire for freedom and independence that pumps the blood through the heart of every American out there.

And you know what every American has in common, Doc?

We don’t much care for kings.

Like I said, man, history has a way of repeating itself. In 1776, we were born as a country when we told King George of England to fuck off. We invented freedom, man. We inspired nations across the world to overthrow kings and czars and emperors, just to be more like us.

When France lopped the head off of their king, they did it because they wanted to be more like the United States of America, they wanted to be GREAT. England did it. Russia did it. The list goes on and on.

Now here we are again… full circle… the denizens of the XWF writhing like dying bugs under the thumb of a despot. One who hides behind his Asylum and has them pick apart his would-be enemies until there’s nothing left but a few stray chunks of meat on weary bones.

Like he tried, and failed, to do to me.

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men… couldn’t do shit to stop the ascent of the megastar as he shoots across the sky, brighter than the sun and higher than the heavens. You got friends and enemies of mine alike in on it, dude, guys like Mastermind and Ghost Tank... You got teammates of mine, like Harrison and Frodo, along with the biggest hunk of useless hired muscle in the entire federation in Dim.

But guess who’s still here? And guess who’s still gonna be looking you right in that one good eye of yours come Saturday night, Doc?

Make no bones about it, Doc, I’m coming for the one prize you have that means anything. I’m not only going to throw that big gold belt over my shoulder and hold it over my head for myself, but also to symbolically carry the entire XWF on my back and bring it back to the heights it once enjoyed, before your medieval reign of impotence began. Before you sat your ass in the throne and took a shit all over the legacy that this company has always represented.

The best of the best.

The future.

We haven’t been able to claim that in months, Doc. Not since you showed up and set your sights on the top of the mountain.

Tomorrow night? We take it back.

Tomorrow night, we drag the XWF out of the shadows and back into the light, letting it breathe easy and free like it always has before.

Tomorrow night, we come out of the dark ages, lit up by a shooting star.

A megastar.

No more puppet masters, no more asylums… no more kings.

Funny… they say that heavy is the head that wears the crown. You must be feeling that weight about now, huh Doc? The crushing girth of all that hollow emptiness sitting atop that bald dome of yours. A symbol of an old world, one where you maybe had an ounce of relevance. One that’s dead.

All that’s in that crown now is nothing.

Oh, don’t worry, Doc, you can keep the crown. It means nothing anyway. You can run around calling yourself the king until your pacemaker fails and you end up face down in a puddle of Extra Strength Ensure… it won’t matter to me. The world will know who the best is, dude.

The world will have its champion, and it will have one it can respect and admire.

See man, for a long time your little mind games even worked on me. The way you get in there and make everyone feel inferior by capitalizing on one or two little mistakes they make. You’re good, Doc, don’t get me wrong, you’re definitely good. But you made your name squeaking by, not by being this unbeatable god that so many seem to see you as.

Yeah, you had me going. When I feel short to you in September, I bought into the hype. I figured, hell, he beat me, he MUST be the second coming… but when I re-watch that match now, dude, I just see a version of “Loverboy” Vinnie Lane that didn’t do enough to win, not a Doc D’Ville that couldn’t be beat.

When I watched your matches with TJ Wallace and Aerial Knight, or with Gator, or even with Mastermind… I saw you for what you are. A guy who backpedals when he’s outclassed and takes advantage of an overzealous opponent like Gator, or an alleged ‘champion’ who makes sure he only gets in the ring with opponents who have no business challenging him to begin with.

Once I opened my eyes, man, I realized your light wasn’t all that bright at all. And when I stared right into it, dude, and you saw me looking at you… you flinched first, didn’t you?

You, the champion, the unbeatable, the end boss, the big bad… you felt the need to insert yourself into my life with the Federweight Title. You felt the need to interject yourself by having your underlings abduct me and try to break my spirit the MOMENT I became your top contender. You felt the need to send out your hired thugs and try to wear me down leading up to this match. You felt the need to add weapons and a cage to the match to give you some sort of hope of using twisted steel to your advantage.

But Doc, dude, once again you forgot… you may be the king of the ring, but man, I’m king of the cage. I’ve done nothing but prove that over and over again since day one in the XWF, man.

You made a mistake.

Now you’re in a panic.

What are you going to do, Doc, when the cage is locked and you have no place left to run? No place left to hide? No one to cower behind? No mind games left to play? Because tomorrow night, dude? Tomorrow night it’s just you, me, and that Universal Championship that you’ve been dragging through the mud for way too long now.

There’s a tidal shift, Doc. A polar swap in the air. I know you sense the balance of power swaying as much as I do, dude. I know you can smell the ozone burning in the air. The hint of warmth on the night breeze. You’re stuck on the ground now like a dog howling at the moon, and I’m soaring overhead like a god damn eagle.

So what does the future hold for a shamed and discarded former champion? The wannabe who never really was? I bet we’ve seen the last of you, haven’t we? I bet after you’re deposed, the world is freed from this one of your many forms.

Someday, another dragon will rear its head, dude, and another white knight will come along and lay is asunder… it’s the way it’s always been.

It’s the cycle, come right back ‘round again.

History repeating itself over and over, the universe expanding and contracting like a god taking a deep breath.

And when all is said and done, dude, the universe always rights itself. The homeostasis of the great, big empty has a way of filtering out the bits of death and disease that get caught up in its karmic immune system.

Doc, tomorrow night you’re getting coughed out like the diseased phlegm that you are, and the prestige of the Universal Championship, and the XWF, will be brought back to the glory it knew before.

It’s my legacy.

It’s my destiny.

It’s written in the stars.

The king is dead…

Long live… the champion.
]]>


They say history repeats itself.

I’m no expert, that’s for sure, at least not about things like that… but man, I have been around the block a time or two and seen things that make you believe it.

Things come around full circle a lot of the time, you know? Like an ourobouros, the snake that devours itself, or the way the phoenix rises from its own ashes every time it’s consumed by flame.

Not you, Ghost Tank, shut up.

The thing is though, I believe things come around again so that we have a chance to make it right. If we only ever got one shot at things… well, we’d never get the chance to be better, would we?

Doctor Louis D’Ville calls himself the king of the XWF. It’s a title he won in a tournament I didn’t take part in. It’s an empty crown.

Why? Because since Doc has been on top of the XWF, the entire thing has gone into the shitter. Look around. Look at the mass exodus of talent from these halls. My friend Gator’s gone, after what Doc did to him. The Three Kings? All retired or on hiatus. Eli James is gone. Even newer notable names like Austin Fernando or Justin Sane… the guys who were supposed to be the bright future of the XWF… gone.

Shit, even Maverick left. Let that sink in. MAVERICK has better things to do than spend his time in the XWF.

When you have a dictator sitting at the top and calling all the shots, you lose what makes you great.

Listen, I’m an American, and I’m a proud one. My father took a bullet in a Vietnamese jungle and he reminded me every day of his life that he was a tougher son of a bitch than I could ever hope to be. And you know what? He was right. I wouldn’t have wanted to fight him even on his deathbed. He knew about heart, about the fight, and about the desire for freedom and independence that pumps the blood through the heart of every American out there.

And you know what every American has in common, Doc?

We don’t much care for kings.

Like I said, man, history has a way of repeating itself. In 1776, we were born as a country when we told King George of England to fuck off. We invented freedom, man. We inspired nations across the world to overthrow kings and czars and emperors, just to be more like us.

When France lopped the head off of their king, they did it because they wanted to be more like the United States of America, they wanted to be GREAT. England did it. Russia did it. The list goes on and on.

Now here we are again… full circle… the denizens of the XWF writhing like dying bugs under the thumb of a despot. One who hides behind his Asylum and has them pick apart his would-be enemies until there’s nothing left but a few stray chunks of meat on weary bones.

Like he tried, and failed, to do to me.

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men… couldn’t do shit to stop the ascent of the megastar as he shoots across the sky, brighter than the sun and higher than the heavens. You got friends and enemies of mine alike in on it, dude, guys like Mastermind and Ghost Tank... You got teammates of mine, like Harrison and Frodo, along with the biggest hunk of useless hired muscle in the entire federation in Dim.

But guess who’s still here? And guess who’s still gonna be looking you right in that one good eye of yours come Saturday night, Doc?

Make no bones about it, Doc, I’m coming for the one prize you have that means anything. I’m not only going to throw that big gold belt over my shoulder and hold it over my head for myself, but also to symbolically carry the entire XWF on my back and bring it back to the heights it once enjoyed, before your medieval reign of impotence began. Before you sat your ass in the throne and took a shit all over the legacy that this company has always represented.

The best of the best.

The future.

We haven’t been able to claim that in months, Doc. Not since you showed up and set your sights on the top of the mountain.

Tomorrow night? We take it back.

Tomorrow night, we drag the XWF out of the shadows and back into the light, letting it breathe easy and free like it always has before.

Tomorrow night, we come out of the dark ages, lit up by a shooting star.

A megastar.

No more puppet masters, no more asylums… no more kings.

Funny… they say that heavy is the head that wears the crown. You must be feeling that weight about now, huh Doc? The crushing girth of all that hollow emptiness sitting atop that bald dome of yours. A symbol of an old world, one where you maybe had an ounce of relevance. One that’s dead.

All that’s in that crown now is nothing.

Oh, don’t worry, Doc, you can keep the crown. It means nothing anyway. You can run around calling yourself the king until your pacemaker fails and you end up face down in a puddle of Extra Strength Ensure… it won’t matter to me. The world will know who the best is, dude.

The world will have its champion, and it will have one it can respect and admire.

See man, for a long time your little mind games even worked on me. The way you get in there and make everyone feel inferior by capitalizing on one or two little mistakes they make. You’re good, Doc, don’t get me wrong, you’re definitely good. But you made your name squeaking by, not by being this unbeatable god that so many seem to see you as.

Yeah, you had me going. When I feel short to you in September, I bought into the hype. I figured, hell, he beat me, he MUST be the second coming… but when I re-watch that match now, dude, I just see a version of “Loverboy” Vinnie Lane that didn’t do enough to win, not a Doc D’Ville that couldn’t be beat.

When I watched your matches with TJ Wallace and Aerial Knight, or with Gator, or even with Mastermind… I saw you for what you are. A guy who backpedals when he’s outclassed and takes advantage of an overzealous opponent like Gator, or an alleged ‘champion’ who makes sure he only gets in the ring with opponents who have no business challenging him to begin with.

Once I opened my eyes, man, I realized your light wasn’t all that bright at all. And when I stared right into it, dude, and you saw me looking at you… you flinched first, didn’t you?

You, the champion, the unbeatable, the end boss, the big bad… you felt the need to insert yourself into my life with the Federweight Title. You felt the need to interject yourself by having your underlings abduct me and try to break my spirit the MOMENT I became your top contender. You felt the need to send out your hired thugs and try to wear me down leading up to this match. You felt the need to add weapons and a cage to the match to give you some sort of hope of using twisted steel to your advantage.

But Doc, dude, once again you forgot… you may be the king of the ring, but man, I’m king of the cage. I’ve done nothing but prove that over and over again since day one in the XWF, man.

You made a mistake.

Now you’re in a panic.

What are you going to do, Doc, when the cage is locked and you have no place left to run? No place left to hide? No one to cower behind? No mind games left to play? Because tomorrow night, dude? Tomorrow night it’s just you, me, and that Universal Championship that you’ve been dragging through the mud for way too long now.

There’s a tidal shift, Doc. A polar swap in the air. I know you sense the balance of power swaying as much as I do, dude. I know you can smell the ozone burning in the air. The hint of warmth on the night breeze. You’re stuck on the ground now like a dog howling at the moon, and I’m soaring overhead like a god damn eagle.

So what does the future hold for a shamed and discarded former champion? The wannabe who never really was? I bet we’ve seen the last of you, haven’t we? I bet after you’re deposed, the world is freed from this one of your many forms.

Someday, another dragon will rear its head, dude, and another white knight will come along and lay is asunder… it’s the way it’s always been.

It’s the cycle, come right back ‘round again.

History repeating itself over and over, the universe expanding and contracting like a god taking a deep breath.

And when all is said and done, dude, the universe always rights itself. The homeostasis of the great, big empty has a way of filtering out the bits of death and disease that get caught up in its karmic immune system.

Doc, tomorrow night you’re getting coughed out like the diseased phlegm that you are, and the prestige of the Universal Championship, and the XWF, will be brought back to the glory it knew before.

It’s my legacy.

It’s my destiny.

It’s written in the stars.

The king is dead…

Long live… the champion.
]]> <![CDATA[Peter Peter Peter - You are making this]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20063 Fri, 22 May 2015 21:19:03 -0700 Mastermind]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20063 WHITE ROCK LAKE
DALLAS TEXAS

The XWF Cameras swoop in for a panoramic shot of White Rock Lake in Dallas, Texas.

[Image: White-Rock-Lake-Pano-HDR1.jpg]

The camera's then spot Mastermind walking along a jetty and stopping at the end of it, and looking out at the view.

[Image: 587-l.jpg][/color]
"It's fantastic isn't it. These views. The peace and quiet of some place like this, compared to what is going to happen in a few hours time when the Bad Medicine Pay Per View kicks off."

Mastermind breathes in and out.

"Breathe taking. I've prepared as much as I can for Bad Medicine. I'm the Captain of my team, and so far it looks as if both Captains, dear I say Peter Gilmour have been leading from the front. My team mate Yellow Sword has made an effort, and I've been in contact with Rellik. He will be there come the start of the match. As for Pete's team, as for saying that we were lazy by not even given out any promos at the start of the week, Ray Tings, has been completely lazy himself by not putting in more of an effort. As for Ghost Tank. His 1 promo will do him, like it's been doing him a lot lately. No surprises there."

Mastermind stops and breathes in some more of the air, and looks out into the view of the lake. Mastermind smirks and looks at he camera.

"It won't be worth it if I came here looking for relaxation time before Bad Medicine. It'll just spoil the view if I reply to Pete's latest claims. So here's what I am going to do."

Mastermind clicks his fingers. The camera fades out to black.


AT&T STADIUM
DALLAS, TEXAS

The sound of clicking fingers once again fills the air, and then the cameras fade back in. This time it's into Mastermind's locker room at the AT&T Stadium, as he prepares to get ready for the start of the Bad Medicine Pay Per View.

"I've had my relaxation time, and now it's time for the last part of my preparation. This maybe my final promo, before this thing gets under way, and as usual of Team Gilmour, their team leader is the only thing that said anything at all since my last promo. So let's get to this debate. My turn to disprove your comments, like I have been doing all week long. So here goes. Sit back and be amazed."

Peter Doesn't Get It Gilmour Said:Where is your team anyways? Seems Rellik got a case of the limber tail. Not like he was going to play a part in the match anyways. And Yellow Sword is too busy telling boring as fuck stories about irrelevant bullshit.


Mastermind smiles.

"You have tried to throw some shit and hope it sticks. It hasn't Peter. At least Yellow Sword is telling stories, where's the rest of your team lately Pete? Like I said, Ray Tings came out strong at the start of the week and did two promos, and that's that. He's gone into hiding. Much like Ghost Tank after he came out with a half ass promo of his own. Gone to ground. Like normal. So you've been leading your team from one absurd confrontation to another. You're not a good leader Peter."

Peter Still Doesn't Get It Gilmour Said:So to say that I am a copycat makes you sir a HYPOCRITE

"That's such a big word for you to say Pete. Very big word, but do you know what it means? I don't think you do. This is what it means. It means A person who engages in the same behaviors he condemns others for. That Pete, is what Hypocrite means. I told about two stories. You came back and told us a story yourself. So instead of coming out with something original and not a story, you came back with a story, and that is how you are a copycat. That does not make me a hypocrite. It makes you one."

Wrong Peter Said:You then show an illustration of how to build a bridge. Wow, like I don’t know how to build a bridge. Idiot! You then said that after I build this bridge, I should throw myself over it. Oh wow, you’re asking me to commit suicide

"No, no, no Peter. You dumb fuckwit. At no time did I say for you to throw yourself over or off a bridge. This is what I actually said:"

replay Said:"So I implore you to build that bridge, and get the fuck over it

"What did I say Peter? I asked for you to build that bridge, and get the fuck over it. No where did I say throw yourself off of one or over one. Clean your fucking ears out boy. I don't know where you got that from. You must be dreaming. Have I got to you that much, it's too easy now?

"Don't you know the meaning of build a bridge and get over it? Obviously you don't. What an idiot you are."

The not so Bold Peter Gilmour Said:you boldly talked about my weight in your first lame ass promo for the match this weekend.

"I decided to join in what others say about you, and see how long it took for you to react about me talking about your weight. So in one way I was a copycat to say what others were saying, but I don't give a shit. It was my first usage of the issue, so clearly I had a right to do so. And you still go on about it, like a baby throwing its toy out of its cot. You're just one big fat baby who cries a lot."

Peter Gilmour Said:Then you said after our match I went up to you in private and thanked you for not calling me fat. Uh, I don’t ever recall going up to you after the match took place.

"Oh you don't remember? Well that's convenient. Lucky for you I have kept the emails that I sent you."


EMAIL #1: FROM MASTERMIND TO PETER GILMOUR

Thank you so much for a wonderful week Peter, I enjoyed it. I thought you won it, but luckily I pulled it out in the end.


EMAIL #2: FROM PETER GILMOUR TO MASTERMIND

You got lucky dude, Tommy Gunn interfered. But after all that, I must say I enjoyed the week too. Thank you for not using the weight issue like all these do.



"See Peter, it's right there in black and white, you thanked me for not using the weight issue."

Peter Gilmour Said:one win doesn’t make you own me. You have to beat me over and over to clearly own me and I don’t think you can.

"Even though I think I OWN you right now, clearly you're right. I just have to keep beating you. And beating you I will."

Peter Gilmour Said:But if you really want to get your ass whipped again, then by all means name the time and place and I’ll be there

"How about at any of the first two cards after Bad Medicine if the GM's feel like it's necessary to make the match they can?"

Peter The Fuckwit Gilmour Said:I talked to both of them and apologized to Ray for anything I said about him.

"Wow you actually apologized to someone? Peter Gilmour apologizes to people. The Peter Gilmour never does that to anyone. ANYONE. Not even GM's. What's wrong with you Pete? Have you got your head so far up Ray Ting's butt that you are trying so hard to ride it all the way for a win? I think not. Wow Peter wow. You seriously need to find some respect and fast. Peter Gilmour apologizing. I swear I would never see the day.

"So you think you are ready Peter? I know I am ready. I know Yellow Sword is ready. I know Rellik is ready and I know you are ready. But is Ray Tings or is Ghost Tank? That's the million dollar question. See you in the ring soon Peter."]]> WHITE ROCK LAKE
DALLAS TEXAS

The XWF Cameras swoop in for a panoramic shot of White Rock Lake in Dallas, Texas.

[Image: White-Rock-Lake-Pano-HDR1.jpg]

The camera's then spot Mastermind walking along a jetty and stopping at the end of it, and looking out at the view.

[Image: 587-l.jpg][/color]
"It's fantastic isn't it. These views. The peace and quiet of some place like this, compared to what is going to happen in a few hours time when the Bad Medicine Pay Per View kicks off."

Mastermind breathes in and out.

"Breathe taking. I've prepared as much as I can for Bad Medicine. I'm the Captain of my team, and so far it looks as if both Captains, dear I say Peter Gilmour have been leading from the front. My team mate Yellow Sword has made an effort, and I've been in contact with Rellik. He will be there come the start of the match. As for Pete's team, as for saying that we were lazy by not even given out any promos at the start of the week, Ray Tings, has been completely lazy himself by not putting in more of an effort. As for Ghost Tank. His 1 promo will do him, like it's been doing him a lot lately. No surprises there."

Mastermind stops and breathes in some more of the air, and looks out into the view of the lake. Mastermind smirks and looks at he camera.

"It won't be worth it if I came here looking for relaxation time before Bad Medicine. It'll just spoil the view if I reply to Pete's latest claims. So here's what I am going to do."

Mastermind clicks his fingers. The camera fades out to black.


AT&T STADIUM
DALLAS, TEXAS

The sound of clicking fingers once again fills the air, and then the cameras fade back in. This time it's into Mastermind's locker room at the AT&T Stadium, as he prepares to get ready for the start of the Bad Medicine Pay Per View.

"I've had my relaxation time, and now it's time for the last part of my preparation. This maybe my final promo, before this thing gets under way, and as usual of Team Gilmour, their team leader is the only thing that said anything at all since my last promo. So let's get to this debate. My turn to disprove your comments, like I have been doing all week long. So here goes. Sit back and be amazed."

Peter Doesn't Get It Gilmour Said:Where is your team anyways? Seems Rellik got a case of the limber tail. Not like he was going to play a part in the match anyways. And Yellow Sword is too busy telling boring as fuck stories about irrelevant bullshit.


Mastermind smiles.

"You have tried to throw some shit and hope it sticks. It hasn't Peter. At least Yellow Sword is telling stories, where's the rest of your team lately Pete? Like I said, Ray Tings came out strong at the start of the week and did two promos, and that's that. He's gone into hiding. Much like Ghost Tank after he came out with a half ass promo of his own. Gone to ground. Like normal. So you've been leading your team from one absurd confrontation to another. You're not a good leader Peter."

Peter Still Doesn't Get It Gilmour Said:So to say that I am a copycat makes you sir a HYPOCRITE

"That's such a big word for you to say Pete. Very big word, but do you know what it means? I don't think you do. This is what it means. It means A person who engages in the same behaviors he condemns others for. That Pete, is what Hypocrite means. I told about two stories. You came back and told us a story yourself. So instead of coming out with something original and not a story, you came back with a story, and that is how you are a copycat. That does not make me a hypocrite. It makes you one."

Wrong Peter Said:You then show an illustration of how to build a bridge. Wow, like I don’t know how to build a bridge. Idiot! You then said that after I build this bridge, I should throw myself over it. Oh wow, you’re asking me to commit suicide

"No, no, no Peter. You dumb fuckwit. At no time did I say for you to throw yourself over or off a bridge. This is what I actually said:"

replay Said:"So I implore you to build that bridge, and get the fuck over it

"What did I say Peter? I asked for you to build that bridge, and get the fuck over it. No where did I say throw yourself off of one or over one. Clean your fucking ears out boy. I don't know where you got that from. You must be dreaming. Have I got to you that much, it's too easy now?

"Don't you know the meaning of build a bridge and get over it? Obviously you don't. What an idiot you are."

The not so Bold Peter Gilmour Said:you boldly talked about my weight in your first lame ass promo for the match this weekend.

"I decided to join in what others say about you, and see how long it took for you to react about me talking about your weight. So in one way I was a copycat to say what others were saying, but I don't give a shit. It was my first usage of the issue, so clearly I had a right to do so. And you still go on about it, like a baby throwing its toy out of its cot. You're just one big fat baby who cries a lot."

Peter Gilmour Said:Then you said after our match I went up to you in private and thanked you for not calling me fat. Uh, I don’t ever recall going up to you after the match took place.

"Oh you don't remember? Well that's convenient. Lucky for you I have kept the emails that I sent you."


EMAIL #1: FROM MASTERMIND TO PETER GILMOUR

Thank you so much for a wonderful week Peter, I enjoyed it. I thought you won it, but luckily I pulled it out in the end.


EMAIL #2: FROM PETER GILMOUR TO MASTERMIND

You got lucky dude, Tommy Gunn interfered. But after all that, I must say I enjoyed the week too. Thank you for not using the weight issue like all these do.



"See Peter, it's right there in black and white, you thanked me for not using the weight issue."

Peter Gilmour Said:one win doesn’t make you own me. You have to beat me over and over to clearly own me and I don’t think you can.

"Even though I think I OWN you right now, clearly you're right. I just have to keep beating you. And beating you I will."

Peter Gilmour Said:But if you really want to get your ass whipped again, then by all means name the time and place and I’ll be there

"How about at any of the first two cards after Bad Medicine if the GM's feel like it's necessary to make the match they can?"

Peter The Fuckwit Gilmour Said:I talked to both of them and apologized to Ray for anything I said about him.

"Wow you actually apologized to someone? Peter Gilmour apologizes to people. The Peter Gilmour never does that to anyone. ANYONE. Not even GM's. What's wrong with you Pete? Have you got your head so far up Ray Ting's butt that you are trying so hard to ride it all the way for a win? I think not. Wow Peter wow. You seriously need to find some respect and fast. Peter Gilmour apologizing. I swear I would never see the day.

"So you think you are ready Peter? I know I am ready. I know Yellow Sword is ready. I know Rellik is ready and I know you are ready. But is Ray Tings or is Ghost Tank? That's the million dollar question. See you in the ring soon Peter."]]> <![CDATA["Loverboy" - Shooting Star]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20082 Fri, 22 May 2015 17:03:30 -0700 Vincent Lane]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20082


Malibu, Thursday Night – 11:00 pm



“Gimme another one.”

Roxy’s infectious laugh fills the bedroom as she playfully shoves at “Loverboy” Vinnie Lane underneath the purple satin sheets.

The pair lie together in a amidst a tumultuous catastrophe of bedsheets and undergarments, clearly having not wasted any time undressing or being careful with the bed linens when they decided to head for the boudoir.

“Let me think, hold on…”

Loverboy plays dumb, rubbing his chin and audibly ‘Hmmmm’-ing while Roxy places her messy-haired head atop his bare chest.

“Okay, got one… ready?”

“Always, baby.”

“How about… ‘you remind me of my big toe.’”

“What?”

“Yeah…. ‘cuz I’m gonna bang you on every piece of furniture I own.”

Roxy breaks out in raucous laughter, momentarily forgetting her typical demure demeanor. As she leans back and wails, she clutches the sheet to keep her swollen chest covered and kicks her long, tanned legs bicycle style.

When she snorts loudly, she covers her mouth and stops, mortified.

“Oh my god!”

“Ha! That was awesome!”

Roxy, now red-faced, grabs a pillow and slaps Loverboy upside the head. The megastar barely gets an arm up to protect himself, then uses the sheet as a protective barricade, like a caterpillar in a chrysalis.

Roxy, though, keeps raining down pillow strikes and feigning offense, though she continues to laugh.

“I’ll show you what you get for laughing at me!”

“Really? A naked pillow fight is supposed to make me NOT want to make fun of you? Have you even SEEN porn?”

“Pretty sure we’ve made plenty of our own.”

Loverboy pops his head back out from under the satin sheet and flashes his winning smile at his fiancée, then makes kissy faces at her while talking in a baby voice.

“Awwww… is the poor webcam girl embawwassed??”

“Stop it Vinnie! I swear to god, I’ll beat you up worse than the Doc will!”

Roxy, still clutching the sheet against her nude body, straddles Loverboy and starts trying to swat at him playfully. Loverboy blocks all the shots nonchalantly, of course, laughing the entire time.

“Yeah? You think you can hurt me worse than a 60 year old incontinent man? I’d hope so! If you really want to remind me of the Doc, why not take your teeth out and give me a quick gummer?”

“Very funny, Vinnie! You’re the only old man for me.”

Loverboy emotes with a face of mock outrage, scooting up into a sitting position while he holds Roxy’s hands at bay by the wrists.

“OLD?!? You think I’M old? I just turned 30! Me and the Doc are from completely different generations, man! That dude probably still has an eight-track player, and I bet his Internet Explorer browser if full of toolbars!”

“Yeah? Well, I’m only, like, 22… so to me, you’re pretty much an old creeper, huh? I bet you don’t even know what I’m talking about when I say my ass looks on fleek.”

“It means it looks awesome, because with an ass like yours, what else could it mean? Plus, I know how to Google, dude. I looked it up the first time you hash tagged it on Facebook.”

“See? Old dogs can learn new tricks.”

Her devilish smirk elicits a troublemaking grin across the face of the rocker, who flips his lover onto her back and presses himself between her legs, which come around his and squeeze him through the sheer satin.

“Ooooo, what are you planning on doing now, Mister Number One Contender?”

“Same thing I’m gonna do to Doc’s title reign this weekend. I’m gonna fuck it.”

Loverboy leans up, inadvertently pulling the sheets partially away from Roxy’s body. Quickly, the gathers them back up again and clutches them closer to her bosom with both hands.

"Why are you bothering keeping yourself covered up, dude? No one’s here but us. That damn bird is all the way across the house. Fuckin’ thing was giving me the creeps sitting in here just… watching… all the time.”

“I don’t know… Dan could get back any minute, you know? She’s been gone all day, and it’s late. You don’t want your future wife to walk in and have the first thing she sees be your ass pumping away on top of me, do you?”

“That’s a good point… damn, she has been gone a while, huh? You think she picked some dude up and went back to his place or something?”

“She’s not that type of girl, Vinnie.”

“Uh… my cock and the Hart Championship belt would like to formally disagree with you, dude. She went from zero to blowjob in about five seconds in the shower this morning.”

“That’s different! She wants you to marry her, remember?”

“Yeah, well, maybe, but maybe she wants Juan Pablo from Malibu to marry her more, you know? Just saying, it can happen.”

“You’re ridiculous…”

Looking slightly annoyed, Roxy moves as if to get out from underneath Loverboy. However, the megastar grabs both of her wrists in one hand and immobilizes her, looking down at her helpless, trapped face as he wiggles the fingers of his free hand in the air.

“Well, well, well… what do we have here?”

“Vinnie… don’t you dare, I swear to god…”

But almost before she can finish threatening him, Loverboy thrusts his hand beneath the covers and starts viciously tickling her all over her exposed body.

Roxy convulses, laughs, cries, and cusses as she tries to buck Loverboy off of her like a drunk slut on a mechanical bull.

“You son of a bitch!”

She barely catches enough breath to scream empty threats at him while he continues to torture her while making annoying tickle sounds to go with the abuse.

“Kitchy kitchy koo!”

“You motherfucker! You aren’t making it to Bad Medicine!”

Just then, a piercing guitar riff bleats from somewhere within the jumbled pile of clothing on the floor next to the bed. Loverboy stops his tickle assault and leans over, seeing the screen of his cell phone lit up with a picture of Roxy’s wet cleavage.

“Man… I have the best background…”

The cell blares out the ringtone a second time and Loverboy groans, leaning over to grab at the phone and bring it up to his face. He points at Roxy with a warning look on his face.

“This isn’t over, by the way. I’m getting more of you.”

“Psh, like to see you try… old man.”

Grabbing the pillows from the bed, Roxy coquettishly uses them to cover all of her naughty bits as she slides off of the bed and walks into the bathroom, clutching one of the pillows with her arm so that she can give Loverboy the finger alongside her outstretched tongue.

“Don’t stick it out if you aren’t planning to use it, dude, you know the rules.”

The only response is the clink of porcelain as the toilet lid is lifted, then the sound of high-pressure piss hitting the water in the bowl.

“Jesus, woman. You pee like you have a time limit. Relax or you’ll blow out an o-ring!”

“Kegels, asshole. Never heard you complain about them before.”

Loverboy simply shakes his head and swipes across his phone screen, slowly reading his notifications. Each time, the smile fades further and further from his face.

“God damn this kid.”

The lid clinks shut, and the sound of a toilet flushing rises from the restroom, followed by water from the tap.

“Hmmm?”

Roxy’s voice bounces off the acoustics of the bathroom, reminding Loverboy of Dani serenading him earlier in the day and causing the sheets between his legs to twitch.

“Nothing babe… it’s just TBX again.”

“TBX?”

She emerges from the bathroom, covered now in a tiny, purple, satin robe that barely falls below her hips. With a confused pout on her lips, Roxy walks back to the bed and crawls onto it, leaning forward to see the texts Loverboy is showing her.

“Thunderbolt X. I’m his idol, or some shit. I don’t know. He texts me a lot. And emails. And leaves voicemails. I’m seriously starting to wonder if I’m gonna come home and find a rabbit boiling on the stove.”

“What the fuck?”

“What… Fatal Attraction? You’ve never seen it? It’s got Glenn Close’s tits in it.”

“Ew.”

“No, no, they were alright in 1987. A little droopy, maybe, and kinda freckled, but shit, man, she was nominated for an Oscar! What awards have your tits gotten you?”

“Just you, baby.”

“Ha!”

Loverboy continues scrolling through the multitude of texts Thunderbolt X has been sending him, looking puzzled each time.

“It’s like he’s a child or something… look at this one: ‘Vinnie you are the best and I want to be your tag team partner we can win titles lets go.’ All one sentence, man. That’s crazy.”

“Is he challenged?”

“Maybe? You know, he really likes that Cena dude a lot, too. Maybe he’s one of those Make-A-Wish kids run amok? You know, like he got ahold of some experimental drug that turned his Down’s muscles into real muscles and then someone put wrestling boots on him and no he’s here?”

“I doubt that, Vinnie, he’s probably just kinda dumb.”

“Here’s one where he says you’re really pretty.”

“Or maybe not so dumb.”

“Sweet, he says he thinks I’m going to beat Doc! See, he isn’t so dumb after all. Even Thunderbolt X is literate enough to read the writing on the wall this time around, dude. He sees Doc’s sun setting in the west and my shooting star rocketing up the sky in the east.

I mean… you don’t have to be smart to see the inevitable coming, dude. Doc’s done. He’s been done. He had one great moment left in him, and he used it beating Gator. Why do you think he’s stuck to guys like Wallace and Mastermind since then?”

“You fought Mastermind…”

“I fought him in a triple decker cage to make it a fair fight! Hush! Seriously, like I said before, the Doc’s had I easy and he knows it. He knows I’m on deck and he knows he’s got nothing left to fire but blanks. He’s like an old man trying to squeeze one last boner out of a bottle of Viagra.

He’s scared, and his back is up against the wall. His time’s up, like my number one fan Thunderbolt X might say, and my time is now. The XWF and the world as a whole is ready for a REAL champion. Someone they can look up to, you know? Someone who’s good looking, capable, talented… you don’t see the crowd erupt into cheers when Doc comes to the ring, do you? Hell no. You could roll Doc in shit and he wouldn’t draw a fly. I put asses in seats and I always have, man. I sell merch by the pallet. I’ve got carpal tunnel in my autograph signing hand.

I.

AM.

A.

Megastar!

Dudes like me don’t just come along every day, man, you know? I’m a once in a generation kind of talent. I’m like Tom Brady, but with fully inflated balls. I’m like a Floyd Mayweather that can read. When I’m done, they’ll be calling me the greatest champion in history.

And it all starts at Bad Medicine.

I’m so stoked, babe.”

Roxy, who had ceased paying attention to Loverboy’ daily ranting and moved on to painting her toenails a new coat of deep purple, starts after a moment when she realizes Loverboy is waiting for her to respond.

“Huh? OH! Yes, baby, you’re the best. You’re gonna take out that nursing home refugee and send him home with a dirty diaper.”

“Exactly! You get it, babe.”

Loverboy watches as Roxy disinterestedly goes back to painting her toes, wiggling them in the air as she looks over her handiwork.

“Baby, will you blow on them for me?”

Loverboy’s eyebrows raise like a cartoon wolf at a strip club.

“Will I? Of course, sugartits, anything for my princess in peroxide.”

As Loverboy leans down to the foot of the bed and starts to blow across Roxy’s dainty foot, causing her to giggle like a schoolgirl, Loverboy’s phone blasts the guitar riff again.

“God damn it, Thunderbolt. I’m doing big boy stuff with a real naked girl, here.”

Loverboy grabs the phone and switches it off, tossing it back onto the floor before getting back to business.


[Image: sgUOuVt.gif]


Elsewhere - Sometime


Here in the dark, the blonde could almost pass for human.

Ted admired her hair, gently parting it in the middle of her head and running his hand down the side of her face.

She lies there, unmoving, being a good girl. He’s pleased with her so far.

“That’s my girl. You look so much better now. Do you like it?”

Of course, she didn’t answer. She just stayed still, her head back, lolling on her neck limply.

Ted thought she was beautiful now.

“You were a good choice after all, Dani. I was wrong about you.”

Ted walked away from her, taking pictures of her naked body as it lie on the dingy mattress in his special room.

He thought about her as compared to the others. The ones he REALLY loved.

He could love her, he thought. In some ways, he already.

Inside, she fit him like a glove. He was so angry at first, when another man’s seed spilled out of her onto him. It almost made him sick to his stomach.

What kind of girl walks around in broad daylight with her vagina full of another man’s cum?

A whore, that’s who.

He didn’t think he’d be able to stop hitting her then, but eventually his rage passed. Once he was able to get hard and perform again, after he had flushed her out, of course, he was able to put it out of his mind.

She had taken him perfectly. Her muscles loose and unresisting. No tension to her at all, anywhere.

Her skin had cooled to his touch after the hot beach sun had made her scorching hot when he first grabbed her and put her into the car.

When he penetrated her for the first time, she didn’t even cry out in pain. She accepted him exactly how he was.

Right then, when he was moving around inside of her body with no struggle, she was perfect to him, and he loved her.

He even told her so, though he was sure she couldn’t hear him.

“You’re perfect.”

He said it with each violent thrust into her.

“You’re so perfect.”

When he was finished, he offered her a tissue, but there were no tears. She hadn’t cried in the one moment between when she realized what was happening and when he clubbed her over the head with the tire iron hidden in his arm sling, either.

She was strong.

She was a good girl.

He wanted to keep her for longer, but he knew he couldn’t.

She’d stopped breathing hours ago. She would begin to smell soon.

Ted loosened the nylon rope from around her neck and lifted her head in his palm, fixing the smudges in her makeup for her.

Without the slutty rouge and caked-on concealer, she looked fresh and clean. Youthful.

When he wiped away her red lipstick and replaced it with a nude balm, she looked like a girl next door.

“Just a little more…”

Ted spoke gently, like a father to his young child, coaxing the beauty out of her. When he retrieved the plain sundress he’d purchased earlier at the boardwalk and slipped it onto her body, it covered the garish tan lines and the unfortunate tattoo of a butterfly covering her left hip.

She was pure again. Pretty.

Perfect.

Ted smiled, and looked at his new lover. He watched her intently, never lifting his gaze from her unmoving face.

He was good with the makeup. Even with the light powder and the easy hand he used to apply it with, the bruising was almost invisible.

Ted walked to the corner of the room and grabbed the ugly platform shoes his prize had been wearing at the beach, tossing them into a trash can nearby.

He retrieved the plastic bag from a workbench, pulling out a cardboard shoebox and opening it to find a plain pair of Mary Jane style flats.

Delicately, he fixed the shoes onto her feet, then stood back and watched her some more.

“Almost.”

He was so close, but he wasn’t ready yet.

Cradling her head in his lap, Ted sat behind her and found a hairbrush between the mattress and the wall.

Gently, he ran the brush through the tangled strands of Dani’s matted hair, loosening the knots he’d created with his outburst earlier.

“I’m sorry, my love. You shouldn’t made me so angry, though.”

For thirty minutes, he slowly brushed her hair and hummed his favorite song to her.

He hoped she liked it.

When he was finished, he again stood back and looked down at her as she lie spread out like an angel trying to fly.

Her smooth, tan legs were clean now. Her toes and fingers freshly painted. Her clothes. Her hair.

Almost.

It was her hair that kept her at almost.

Ted looked at his watch. The corner store up the road would close in fifteen minutes. Just enough time for him to go and buy what he needed to make her just right.

"I'll be right back, my darling. You'll be complete in a little while."

He hesitated, not breaking his eye contact with her. Finally, he blurted it out.

"I love you."

Ted rushed and grabbed his keys, then practically ran to his car on his way to buy a box of brown hair dye.

]]>


Malibu, Thursday Night – 11:00 pm



“Gimme another one.”

Roxy’s infectious laugh fills the bedroom as she playfully shoves at “Loverboy” Vinnie Lane underneath the purple satin sheets.

The pair lie together in a amidst a tumultuous catastrophe of bedsheets and undergarments, clearly having not wasted any time undressing or being careful with the bed linens when they decided to head for the boudoir.

“Let me think, hold on…”

Loverboy plays dumb, rubbing his chin and audibly ‘Hmmmm’-ing while Roxy places her messy-haired head atop his bare chest.

“Okay, got one… ready?”

“Always, baby.”

“How about… ‘you remind me of my big toe.’”

“What?”

“Yeah…. ‘cuz I’m gonna bang you on every piece of furniture I own.”

Roxy breaks out in raucous laughter, momentarily forgetting her typical demure demeanor. As she leans back and wails, she clutches the sheet to keep her swollen chest covered and kicks her long, tanned legs bicycle style.

When she snorts loudly, she covers her mouth and stops, mortified.

“Oh my god!”

“Ha! That was awesome!”

Roxy, now red-faced, grabs a pillow and slaps Loverboy upside the head. The megastar barely gets an arm up to protect himself, then uses the sheet as a protective barricade, like a caterpillar in a chrysalis.

Roxy, though, keeps raining down pillow strikes and feigning offense, though she continues to laugh.

“I’ll show you what you get for laughing at me!”

“Really? A naked pillow fight is supposed to make me NOT want to make fun of you? Have you even SEEN porn?”

“Pretty sure we’ve made plenty of our own.”

Loverboy pops his head back out from under the satin sheet and flashes his winning smile at his fiancée, then makes kissy faces at her while talking in a baby voice.

“Awwww… is the poor webcam girl embawwassed??”

“Stop it Vinnie! I swear to god, I’ll beat you up worse than the Doc will!”

Roxy, still clutching the sheet against her nude body, straddles Loverboy and starts trying to swat at him playfully. Loverboy blocks all the shots nonchalantly, of course, laughing the entire time.

“Yeah? You think you can hurt me worse than a 60 year old incontinent man? I’d hope so! If you really want to remind me of the Doc, why not take your teeth out and give me a quick gummer?”

“Very funny, Vinnie! You’re the only old man for me.”

Loverboy emotes with a face of mock outrage, scooting up into a sitting position while he holds Roxy’s hands at bay by the wrists.

“OLD?!? You think I’M old? I just turned 30! Me and the Doc are from completely different generations, man! That dude probably still has an eight-track player, and I bet his Internet Explorer browser if full of toolbars!”

“Yeah? Well, I’m only, like, 22… so to me, you’re pretty much an old creeper, huh? I bet you don’t even know what I’m talking about when I say my ass looks on fleek.”

“It means it looks awesome, because with an ass like yours, what else could it mean? Plus, I know how to Google, dude. I looked it up the first time you hash tagged it on Facebook.”

“See? Old dogs can learn new tricks.”

Her devilish smirk elicits a troublemaking grin across the face of the rocker, who flips his lover onto her back and presses himself between her legs, which come around his and squeeze him through the sheer satin.

“Ooooo, what are you planning on doing now, Mister Number One Contender?”

“Same thing I’m gonna do to Doc’s title reign this weekend. I’m gonna fuck it.”

Loverboy leans up, inadvertently pulling the sheets partially away from Roxy’s body. Quickly, the gathers them back up again and clutches them closer to her bosom with both hands.

"Why are you bothering keeping yourself covered up, dude? No one’s here but us. That damn bird is all the way across the house. Fuckin’ thing was giving me the creeps sitting in here just… watching… all the time.”

“I don’t know… Dan could get back any minute, you know? She’s been gone all day, and it’s late. You don’t want your future wife to walk in and have the first thing she sees be your ass pumping away on top of me, do you?”

“That’s a good point… damn, she has been gone a while, huh? You think she picked some dude up and went back to his place or something?”

“She’s not that type of girl, Vinnie.”

“Uh… my cock and the Hart Championship belt would like to formally disagree with you, dude. She went from zero to blowjob in about five seconds in the shower this morning.”

“That’s different! She wants you to marry her, remember?”

“Yeah, well, maybe, but maybe she wants Juan Pablo from Malibu to marry her more, you know? Just saying, it can happen.”

“You’re ridiculous…”

Looking slightly annoyed, Roxy moves as if to get out from underneath Loverboy. However, the megastar grabs both of her wrists in one hand and immobilizes her, looking down at her helpless, trapped face as he wiggles the fingers of his free hand in the air.

“Well, well, well… what do we have here?”

“Vinnie… don’t you dare, I swear to god…”

But almost before she can finish threatening him, Loverboy thrusts his hand beneath the covers and starts viciously tickling her all over her exposed body.

Roxy convulses, laughs, cries, and cusses as she tries to buck Loverboy off of her like a drunk slut on a mechanical bull.

“You son of a bitch!”

She barely catches enough breath to scream empty threats at him while he continues to torture her while making annoying tickle sounds to go with the abuse.

“Kitchy kitchy koo!”

“You motherfucker! You aren’t making it to Bad Medicine!”

Just then, a piercing guitar riff bleats from somewhere within the jumbled pile of clothing on the floor next to the bed. Loverboy stops his tickle assault and leans over, seeing the screen of his cell phone lit up with a picture of Roxy’s wet cleavage.

“Man… I have the best background…”

The cell blares out the ringtone a second time and Loverboy groans, leaning over to grab at the phone and bring it up to his face. He points at Roxy with a warning look on his face.

“This isn’t over, by the way. I’m getting more of you.”

“Psh, like to see you try… old man.”

Grabbing the pillows from the bed, Roxy coquettishly uses them to cover all of her naughty bits as she slides off of the bed and walks into the bathroom, clutching one of the pillows with her arm so that she can give Loverboy the finger alongside her outstretched tongue.

“Don’t stick it out if you aren’t planning to use it, dude, you know the rules.”

The only response is the clink of porcelain as the toilet lid is lifted, then the sound of high-pressure piss hitting the water in the bowl.

“Jesus, woman. You pee like you have a time limit. Relax or you’ll blow out an o-ring!”

“Kegels, asshole. Never heard you complain about them before.”

Loverboy simply shakes his head and swipes across his phone screen, slowly reading his notifications. Each time, the smile fades further and further from his face.

“God damn this kid.”

The lid clinks shut, and the sound of a toilet flushing rises from the restroom, followed by water from the tap.

“Hmmm?”

Roxy’s voice bounces off the acoustics of the bathroom, reminding Loverboy of Dani serenading him earlier in the day and causing the sheets between his legs to twitch.

“Nothing babe… it’s just TBX again.”

“TBX?”

She emerges from the bathroom, covered now in a tiny, purple, satin robe that barely falls below her hips. With a confused pout on her lips, Roxy walks back to the bed and crawls onto it, leaning forward to see the texts Loverboy is showing her.

“Thunderbolt X. I’m his idol, or some shit. I don’t know. He texts me a lot. And emails. And leaves voicemails. I’m seriously starting to wonder if I’m gonna come home and find a rabbit boiling on the stove.”

“What the fuck?”

“What… Fatal Attraction? You’ve never seen it? It’s got Glenn Close’s tits in it.”

“Ew.”

“No, no, they were alright in 1987. A little droopy, maybe, and kinda freckled, but shit, man, she was nominated for an Oscar! What awards have your tits gotten you?”

“Just you, baby.”

“Ha!”

Loverboy continues scrolling through the multitude of texts Thunderbolt X has been sending him, looking puzzled each time.

“It’s like he’s a child or something… look at this one: ‘Vinnie you are the best and I want to be your tag team partner we can win titles lets go.’ All one sentence, man. That’s crazy.”

“Is he challenged?”

“Maybe? You know, he really likes that Cena dude a lot, too. Maybe he’s one of those Make-A-Wish kids run amok? You know, like he got ahold of some experimental drug that turned his Down’s muscles into real muscles and then someone put wrestling boots on him and no he’s here?”

“I doubt that, Vinnie, he’s probably just kinda dumb.”

“Here’s one where he says you’re really pretty.”

“Or maybe not so dumb.”

“Sweet, he says he thinks I’m going to beat Doc! See, he isn’t so dumb after all. Even Thunderbolt X is literate enough to read the writing on the wall this time around, dude. He sees Doc’s sun setting in the west and my shooting star rocketing up the sky in the east.

I mean… you don’t have to be smart to see the inevitable coming, dude. Doc’s done. He’s been done. He had one great moment left in him, and he used it beating Gator. Why do you think he’s stuck to guys like Wallace and Mastermind since then?”

“You fought Mastermind…”

“I fought him in a triple decker cage to make it a fair fight! Hush! Seriously, like I said before, the Doc’s had I easy and he knows it. He knows I’m on deck and he knows he’s got nothing left to fire but blanks. He’s like an old man trying to squeeze one last boner out of a bottle of Viagra.

He’s scared, and his back is up against the wall. His time’s up, like my number one fan Thunderbolt X might say, and my time is now. The XWF and the world as a whole is ready for a REAL champion. Someone they can look up to, you know? Someone who’s good looking, capable, talented… you don’t see the crowd erupt into cheers when Doc comes to the ring, do you? Hell no. You could roll Doc in shit and he wouldn’t draw a fly. I put asses in seats and I always have, man. I sell merch by the pallet. I’ve got carpal tunnel in my autograph signing hand.

I.

AM.

A.

Megastar!

Dudes like me don’t just come along every day, man, you know? I’m a once in a generation kind of talent. I’m like Tom Brady, but with fully inflated balls. I’m like a Floyd Mayweather that can read. When I’m done, they’ll be calling me the greatest champion in history.

And it all starts at Bad Medicine.

I’m so stoked, babe.”

Roxy, who had ceased paying attention to Loverboy’ daily ranting and moved on to painting her toenails a new coat of deep purple, starts after a moment when she realizes Loverboy is waiting for her to respond.

“Huh? OH! Yes, baby, you’re the best. You’re gonna take out that nursing home refugee and send him home with a dirty diaper.”

“Exactly! You get it, babe.”

Loverboy watches as Roxy disinterestedly goes back to painting her toes, wiggling them in the air as she looks over her handiwork.

“Baby, will you blow on them for me?”

Loverboy’s eyebrows raise like a cartoon wolf at a strip club.

“Will I? Of course, sugartits, anything for my princess in peroxide.”

As Loverboy leans down to the foot of the bed and starts to blow across Roxy’s dainty foot, causing her to giggle like a schoolgirl, Loverboy’s phone blasts the guitar riff again.

“God damn it, Thunderbolt. I’m doing big boy stuff with a real naked girl, here.”

Loverboy grabs the phone and switches it off, tossing it back onto the floor before getting back to business.


[Image: sgUOuVt.gif]


Elsewhere - Sometime


Here in the dark, the blonde could almost pass for human.

Ted admired her hair, gently parting it in the middle of her head and running his hand down the side of her face.

She lies there, unmoving, being a good girl. He’s pleased with her so far.

“That’s my girl. You look so much better now. Do you like it?”

Of course, she didn’t answer. She just stayed still, her head back, lolling on her neck limply.

Ted thought she was beautiful now.

“You were a good choice after all, Dani. I was wrong about you.”

Ted walked away from her, taking pictures of her naked body as it lie on the dingy mattress in his special room.

He thought about her as compared to the others. The ones he REALLY loved.

He could love her, he thought. In some ways, he already.

Inside, she fit him like a glove. He was so angry at first, when another man’s seed spilled out of her onto him. It almost made him sick to his stomach.

What kind of girl walks around in broad daylight with her vagina full of another man’s cum?

A whore, that’s who.

He didn’t think he’d be able to stop hitting her then, but eventually his rage passed. Once he was able to get hard and perform again, after he had flushed her out, of course, he was able to put it out of his mind.

She had taken him perfectly. Her muscles loose and unresisting. No tension to her at all, anywhere.

Her skin had cooled to his touch after the hot beach sun had made her scorching hot when he first grabbed her and put her into the car.

When he penetrated her for the first time, she didn’t even cry out in pain. She accepted him exactly how he was.

Right then, when he was moving around inside of her body with no struggle, she was perfect to him, and he loved her.

He even told her so, though he was sure she couldn’t hear him.

“You’re perfect.”

He said it with each violent thrust into her.

“You’re so perfect.”

When he was finished, he offered her a tissue, but there were no tears. She hadn’t cried in the one moment between when she realized what was happening and when he clubbed her over the head with the tire iron hidden in his arm sling, either.

She was strong.

She was a good girl.

He wanted to keep her for longer, but he knew he couldn’t.

She’d stopped breathing hours ago. She would begin to smell soon.

Ted loosened the nylon rope from around her neck and lifted her head in his palm, fixing the smudges in her makeup for her.

Without the slutty rouge and caked-on concealer, she looked fresh and clean. Youthful.

When he wiped away her red lipstick and replaced it with a nude balm, she looked like a girl next door.

“Just a little more…”

Ted spoke gently, like a father to his young child, coaxing the beauty out of her. When he retrieved the plain sundress he’d purchased earlier at the boardwalk and slipped it onto her body, it covered the garish tan lines and the unfortunate tattoo of a butterfly covering her left hip.

She was pure again. Pretty.

Perfect.

Ted smiled, and looked at his new lover. He watched her intently, never lifting his gaze from her unmoving face.

He was good with the makeup. Even with the light powder and the easy hand he used to apply it with, the bruising was almost invisible.

Ted walked to the corner of the room and grabbed the ugly platform shoes his prize had been wearing at the beach, tossing them into a trash can nearby.

He retrieved the plastic bag from a workbench, pulling out a cardboard shoebox and opening it to find a plain pair of Mary Jane style flats.

Delicately, he fixed the shoes onto her feet, then stood back and watched her some more.

“Almost.”

He was so close, but he wasn’t ready yet.

Cradling her head in his lap, Ted sat behind her and found a hairbrush between the mattress and the wall.

Gently, he ran the brush through the tangled strands of Dani’s matted hair, loosening the knots he’d created with his outburst earlier.

“I’m sorry, my love. You shouldn’t made me so angry, though.”

For thirty minutes, he slowly brushed her hair and hummed his favorite song to her.

He hoped she liked it.

When he was finished, he again stood back and looked down at her as she lie spread out like an angel trying to fly.

Her smooth, tan legs were clean now. Her toes and fingers freshly painted. Her clothes. Her hair.

Almost.

It was her hair that kept her at almost.

Ted looked at his watch. The corner store up the road would close in fifteen minutes. Just enough time for him to go and buy what he needed to make her just right.

"I'll be right back, my darling. You'll be complete in a little while."

He hesitated, not breaking his eye contact with her. Finally, he blurted it out.

"I love you."

Ted rushed and grabbed his keys, then practically ran to his car on his way to buy a box of brown hair dye.

]]> <![CDATA[Early Morning Fiyah!]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20081 Fri, 22 May 2015 15:48:37 -0700 DMX-Factor]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20081

[Image: DMXWorkup1.jpg]
XWF Bad Medicine RP #4
"Early Morning Fiyah!"

Characters used: n/a
Characters mentioned: Swagmire, Trax

DJ Envy: "You're back with us on the Breakfast Club, good morning to you all! And as we hinted earlier, we have a very special guest on the phone line for you all this morning! I'm a lil' surprised that we have him with us."

Angela Yee: "Not gonna lie, I am too. It's amazing what can transpire in 24 hours."

DJ Envy: "You ain't lying. In case you missed it yesterday, we had our boy Trax in the studio with us yesterday morning. As you may know, Trax is back in the wrestling scene, and he's making the case that he's nobody to mess with. Never has been, never will be."

Angela Yee: "He definitely made a believer out of me."

DJ Envy: "Well as we ended our talk with Trax, we kinda put it out there that we wouldn't mind hearing his opponent DMX-Factor spit some fiyah for us. Hey, I'm gonna be honest, I half expected not to hear a response from him, especially not this quickly. Though much respect to have him join us on such short notice. So on the phone line right now, we have for you Trax's opponent this Saturday at AT&T Stadium in Dallas, Texas, DMX-Factor! What's going on bro?"

DMX-Factor: *over the phone* "Wat's good, wat's good y'all? 'Preciate y'all havin' me here!"

Angela Yee: "Thanks for joining us, DMX!"

DJ Envy: "Yeah, we're glad to have you on with us, and we're definitely looking forward to seeing what you got in the freestyle department. But before we get into that, I'm assuming you heard all that Trax had to say yesterday. I wanna get your thoughts on it if you don't mind."

DMX: "It's kinda crazy bein' da new guy again, so it's somethin' I haven't been used to in a while. Back in my old organization, da BwF, everyone knew who I was and wat to expect. I didn't expect things to be da same in da XWF, though I didn't expect da quick reaction dat I received from a few people. One being da guy called Swagmire, as I'm sure you two are aware of by now."

Angela Yee: "Yeah, I'd rather not talk about him, so let's move on." *laughs*

DMX: "Agreed. And obviously Trax. To be completely honest with y'all, I'm lookin' forward to da match and facin' him. Contrary to popular belief, I don't expect our match to be an easy fight, even if it was a singles match. With it bein' a triple threat match just makes it dat much harder. There's nothin' I love more than a challenge tho, and dis will be da perfect challenge as I lace my sneakers up to get back in da ring for da first time in a good while."

DJ Envy: "I hear ya, man. It's definitely a match to look forward to, and you spoke recently saying that this match could have a lot of potential for being a show stopper, or even a show stealer."

Angela Yee: "If both you and Trax are as dedicated and determined to leave it all in the ring this weekend, I wouldn't be surprised if the match did steal the show. The only thing that upsets me about the match is how it has been highlighted by racial undertones rather than the participants themselves. Does the racism make it hard for you to focus on the task at hand?"

DMX: "No, not at all. Trax made a good point yesterday. Racism has been around for a long time. It's nothing new, and unfortunately it will never be a thing of da past. So da best way to overcome it is to ignore it, or even use it as an advantage. Swagmire believes in something dat's flawed from da ground up. His mind is focused on one thing but it's not in da right place. So in reality, dis match is a singles match between myself and Trax, with special guest racist Swagmire. It's not a problem for me. I can tell you dat he's not gonna win. Dat's the only known known in dis match."

DJ Envy: "Spoken like a true professional, we appreciate your insight on the match, and we wish both you and Trax the best of luck out there tomorrow night. But before we let ya go, I know this is the real reason why you joined us this morning. You want to spit a lil' bit of that fiyah, huh?!"

DMX: "You already know! I been out of da rap game for a minute, but I think I still got something left in da tank for y'all!"

Angela Yee: "Alright then, let's hear it!"

DJ Envy: "Yeah, let's hear it man!"

(DMX clears his throat before freestyling.)

I am Iron Man, yes I am invincible
My name ain't Robert Palmer, but I'm simply irresistible
I can make girls shake their ass with less trouble than Mystikal
I'm ghetto fabulous, I THOUGHT I TOLD YA!
No limit, no lie, the Game of Life is rated M
For violence, drugs, nudity, blood, gore, and Eminem
This is as real as it gets, ain't no second chances
So I'll walk like I own the world so I can feel your glances
You can burn a hole in me while I'll be burnin' through your mind
Feedin' you some food for thought, would you like that supersized?
Give me some extra cheese, I'm bringin' home the bacon
You wanna share this good, well girl, get that ass shakin'
I'm here for one night only, after that I'm takin' off
Goin' to another planet 'cause people here are way too soft
I'll come back with another martian sicker than Weezy
I go hard, 'cause this is just too easy

DJ Envy: "Ooooh man! That was pretty dope, no lie!"

Angela Yee: "I can dig that one. That was hot, DMX!"

DMX: "'Preciate it, y'all!"

DJ Envy: "There ya have it, the challenge was issued, and DMX-Factor came through for us! We appreciate you taking time out of your morning and your busy schedule to join us. We know you have a long weekend, so we'll go ahead and let you go."

DMX: "Envy, Angela, thank y'all for havin' me, it was an honor to join y'all dis morning!"

Angela Yee: "If you're ever in New York, stop by the studio!"

DMX: "Will do, y'all take it easy, aight?"

DJ Envy: "You as well, good luck tomorrow!"

DMX: "'Preciate it!"

DJ Envy: "There ya have it, Da Freestyla definitely lived up to the name, but can he overcome all obstacles tomorrow night at XWF Bad Medicine? You can watch it live on pay-per-view. I know I'll be watching it! We gonna hit you up with a new joint, stick around. You're listening to the Breakfast Club, so don't touch that dial!"

]]>

[Image: DMXWorkup1.jpg]
XWF Bad Medicine RP #4
"Early Morning Fiyah!"

Characters used: n/a
Characters mentioned: Swagmire, Trax

DJ Envy: "You're back with us on the Breakfast Club, good morning to you all! And as we hinted earlier, we have a very special guest on the phone line for you all this morning! I'm a lil' surprised that we have him with us."

Angela Yee: "Not gonna lie, I am too. It's amazing what can transpire in 24 hours."

DJ Envy: "You ain't lying. In case you missed it yesterday, we had our boy Trax in the studio with us yesterday morning. As you may know, Trax is back in the wrestling scene, and he's making the case that he's nobody to mess with. Never has been, never will be."

Angela Yee: "He definitely made a believer out of me."

DJ Envy: "Well as we ended our talk with Trax, we kinda put it out there that we wouldn't mind hearing his opponent DMX-Factor spit some fiyah for us. Hey, I'm gonna be honest, I half expected not to hear a response from him, especially not this quickly. Though much respect to have him join us on such short notice. So on the phone line right now, we have for you Trax's opponent this Saturday at AT&T Stadium in Dallas, Texas, DMX-Factor! What's going on bro?"

DMX-Factor: *over the phone* "Wat's good, wat's good y'all? 'Preciate y'all havin' me here!"

Angela Yee: "Thanks for joining us, DMX!"

DJ Envy: "Yeah, we're glad to have you on with us, and we're definitely looking forward to seeing what you got in the freestyle department. But before we get into that, I'm assuming you heard all that Trax had to say yesterday. I wanna get your thoughts on it if you don't mind."

DMX: "It's kinda crazy bein' da new guy again, so it's somethin' I haven't been used to in a while. Back in my old organization, da BwF, everyone knew who I was and wat to expect. I didn't expect things to be da same in da XWF, though I didn't expect da quick reaction dat I received from a few people. One being da guy called Swagmire, as I'm sure you two are aware of by now."

Angela Yee: "Yeah, I'd rather not talk about him, so let's move on." *laughs*

DMX: "Agreed. And obviously Trax. To be completely honest with y'all, I'm lookin' forward to da match and facin' him. Contrary to popular belief, I don't expect our match to be an easy fight, even if it was a singles match. With it bein' a triple threat match just makes it dat much harder. There's nothin' I love more than a challenge tho, and dis will be da perfect challenge as I lace my sneakers up to get back in da ring for da first time in a good while."

DJ Envy: "I hear ya, man. It's definitely a match to look forward to, and you spoke recently saying that this match could have a lot of potential for being a show stopper, or even a show stealer."

Angela Yee: "If both you and Trax are as dedicated and determined to leave it all in the ring this weekend, I wouldn't be surprised if the match did steal the show. The only thing that upsets me about the match is how it has been highlighted by racial undertones rather than the participants themselves. Does the racism make it hard for you to focus on the task at hand?"

DMX: "No, not at all. Trax made a good point yesterday. Racism has been around for a long time. It's nothing new, and unfortunately it will never be a thing of da past. So da best way to overcome it is to ignore it, or even use it as an advantage. Swagmire believes in something dat's flawed from da ground up. His mind is focused on one thing but it's not in da right place. So in reality, dis match is a singles match between myself and Trax, with special guest racist Swagmire. It's not a problem for me. I can tell you dat he's not gonna win. Dat's the only known known in dis match."

DJ Envy: "Spoken like a true professional, we appreciate your insight on the match, and we wish both you and Trax the best of luck out there tomorrow night. But before we let ya go, I know this is the real reason why you joined us this morning. You want to spit a lil' bit of that fiyah, huh?!"

DMX: "You already know! I been out of da rap game for a minute, but I think I still got something left in da tank for y'all!"

Angela Yee: "Alright then, let's hear it!"

DJ Envy: "Yeah, let's hear it man!"

(DMX clears his throat before freestyling.)

I am Iron Man, yes I am invincible
My name ain't Robert Palmer, but I'm simply irresistible
I can make girls shake their ass with less trouble than Mystikal
I'm ghetto fabulous, I THOUGHT I TOLD YA!
No limit, no lie, the Game of Life is rated M
For violence, drugs, nudity, blood, gore, and Eminem
This is as real as it gets, ain't no second chances
So I'll walk like I own the world so I can feel your glances
You can burn a hole in me while I'll be burnin' through your mind
Feedin' you some food for thought, would you like that supersized?
Give me some extra cheese, I'm bringin' home the bacon
You wanna share this good, well girl, get that ass shakin'
I'm here for one night only, after that I'm takin' off
Goin' to another planet 'cause people here are way too soft
I'll come back with another martian sicker than Weezy
I go hard, 'cause this is just too easy

DJ Envy: "Ooooh man! That was pretty dope, no lie!"

Angela Yee: "I can dig that one. That was hot, DMX!"

DMX: "'Preciate it, y'all!"

DJ Envy: "There ya have it, the challenge was issued, and DMX-Factor came through for us! We appreciate you taking time out of your morning and your busy schedule to join us. We know you have a long weekend, so we'll go ahead and let you go."

DMX: "Envy, Angela, thank y'all for havin' me, it was an honor to join y'all dis morning!"

Angela Yee: "If you're ever in New York, stop by the studio!"

DMX: "Will do, y'all take it easy, aight?"

DJ Envy: "You as well, good luck tomorrow!"

DMX: "'Preciate it!"

DJ Envy: "There ya have it, Da Freestyla definitely lived up to the name, but can he overcome all obstacles tomorrow night at XWF Bad Medicine? You can watch it live on pay-per-view. I know I'll be watching it! We gonna hit you up with a new joint, stick around. You're listening to the Breakfast Club, so don't touch that dial!"

]]> <![CDATA[| A Deep Breath | A Dash Of Confidence |]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20051 Fri, 22 May 2015 15:08:45 -0700 Game Girl]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20051
WORLD 7 - LEVEL 3



. . .

A dial tone.

. . .

A deep breath.

A dash of confidence.

And ringing.

We join Gabe Bachgan, the founder of Funsoft and creator of Nirva's Sword, the video game that our hero is from. He presses a phone against his ear, pacing back and forth in his depressing hovel, the ground quaking under his girth. A female voice chirps from the other end.

"Hello?"

"Ai! It's Gabe Bachgan."

A smile appears on Gabe's face as he speaks, Ai's voice sounds delighted to hear her old friend.

"Gabe? Haha, it's been too long. How are you?"

"I'm well but it's been a crazy few days. Yourself?"

"Same here haha."

"Haha. Listen, I'd love to chat but this is pretty urgent. Do you still have the Nirva's Sword beta cartridge?"

"Nirva's Sword? That something I haven't thought about in years. But yes, I still have it."

Gabe fist pumps.

"That is fantastic. I need to borrow it, just for a couple of days. Any chance I can swing round soon?"

"Eh.. Gabe I'm sorry but I'm in Montreal right now, Ubisoft is making another Assassin's Creed and they need to hit there different race and religion quota. It sucks, they want to set this game in early 1900s Australia. Aboriginal assassin running around the sand and jumping off big rocks. They've gone off the deep end here."

"That sounds awful. Would the Aboriginal be fighting the British? Trying to stop them making the place a giant prison?"

"Basically yeah, all the British there will be Templars looking for another piece of Eden hidden in the Great Barrier Reef. We're bringing back sailing too, but Billabong specific."

"I'm guessing there will be some boomerang tech?"

"Mhm. Tons and a hidden boomerang too, it's probably the stupidest thing ever BUT they don't want to go to Japan yet, get all the money off the customers first and when they're failing, bang. Japan Assassin's Creed."

"Well in 2020 I will look forward to it's debut trailer and it being delayed 3 times before release."

"Hahaha, why can't it be simple like before?"

"I wish it was Ai. Dammit I said I wasn't here to chat, shame you're in Montreal. When do you get back?"

"I'm here for a few months."

"Crap."

"... You seem pretty hellbent on getting Nirva's Sword. Tell you what, I'll text you the address to my apartment. I'll call the building so the doorman will let you in and make reception hand you a spare key. The game's in my office, can't miss it."

"Ai, you're a lifesaver. I owe you one."

"Don't worry about it. But why do you want the game now? Thinking about fixing it up and releasing it?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Trust me. But getting it released is a good idea, get a Kickstarter up. Make it downloadable only, people love the retro stuff. Shovel Knight, Gunlord, Volgarr the Viking."

"Go for it, I can help out when I get back to Hollywood."

"That'd be great."

"Could catch up over coffee too, if you'd like."

Gabe hesitates. His smile wide as he let's out a small chuckle.

"That sounds nice."

"Awesome. Anyway, I have to go. The team wants to put in an assassin kangaroo as an easter egg."

"Good to see Ubisoft are focusing on the big selling points."

"Tell me about it. Haha. See you soon GB."

"Goodbye princess."

A smile still stuck on his face, Gabe takes a seat on his couch and grabs his laptop. He taps on the keyboard with lightning speed and opens up Kickstarter. He stares at the homepage for a few seconds, tapping his finger on the hard plastic of the laptop before sighing and closing the browser to the desktop wallpaper of a young Gabe and his group posing for the camera. Ai looking royal wearing a tiara and pulling a funny face, Gabe lets out a small laugh as his eyes fix on the screen.

Meanwhile somewhere not on boring old Earth.

- Dragon Lake, Southern Narfinex -

We join Game Girl trudging through knee high murky water, her boots in her hand as she steps slowly with a scowl set on her face, displeased with her current situation. A large crystal ball floats from far behind Game Girl and slowly makes it's way next to Paige. Our hero raises an eyebrow at the large glass sphere and grabs the handle of her hammer poking from her bottomless satchel. The ball fizzles and the milky white turns to an image of Gretchin, stood in her shack. Paige release her grasp of her hammer and relaxes a little, still making her way through the shallow water of the swamp.

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Oh, hi Gretchin."

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"Game Girl."

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"What's up?"

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"Just checking in. Gabe made contact with a woman named Ai, he will retrieve the cartridge soon."

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
":D That's fantastic news!"

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"That it is. Where are you now?"

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"I'm making my way through the Dragon Lake swamp lands. Should be coming up to the woods soon and then the Valley of Torment."

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"You're making good time. How long has it been since you left? 7, 8 hours?"

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"6 hours and 23 minutes. Running low on stamina potions though, might not be able to keep up the pace."

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"Hm. There should be an inn pass the valley. Rest up there."

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Good to know, thanks Gretchin."

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"Happy to help. You have a match in the XWF soon too, make sure you're prepared for that as well."

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Shouldn't be a problem. I have 2 Adrenaline vials just in case. . . Is it true that time moves differently on Urf?"

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"Indeed it does. Half a day here is longer than a day on Earth. You can go into your match and come back here and not miss the wind changing."

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Cool. Glad to know I'm not wasting my time here while I deal with Sebastian Duke."

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"Very regal name Sebastian, from what I've seen he's a tough competitor and such a strapping man."

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Ew. :/ . I'm a little worried, he's one of the best in XWF. Hope I don't screw up."

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"I'll be proud of you whatever happens dear."

Paige smiles widely, looking at the crystal ball with starry eyes. Gretchin hesitates for a moment as Paige starts to put her books back on, the water more shallow than before. Gretchin changes the subject..

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"What match are you in on Earth? Smash Brothers? Mortal Kombat? . . . Super Mario Bros?"

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Nah, 2 out of 3 match. Again. Er, singles, finisher and ladder. Earth rules are weird, not sure if I like them."

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"Their world, their rules I guess."

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Yeah. Just weird y'know. And we're fighting in a place called ay tee n tee. That's super weird right?"

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"It is a very strange name for a region."

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Game Boy fitted in with the human stuff pretty well, but this is just so bizarre to me."

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"I wouldn't worry about it Game Girl, you're fully equipped to deal with anything Earth throws at you."

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Hopefully. . . . So. . How's Princess?"

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"It's sweet that you care."

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Shut up."

Paige says as she brushes hair away from her eyes, looking straight forward as she sees the treeline.

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"She's .. Coping. Flynn and Palanius are handling the clean up well enough. But she's still mourning, and her feelings toward you don't help."

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Ugh. I don't blame her. I did do a pretty cruddy thing."

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"She'll get over it, one day she'll realize what is more important."

Paige twiddles her thumbs and nods slowly. Suddenly an arrow pierces through the air and smashes into the crystal ball, the orb fizzles and stops mid air for a second before crashing into the water below. Paige looks up shocked, first at the ball then to the archer. Five skeletons stand at an opening to the forest, Paige looks in between them with wide eyes and pulls the hammer from her satchel. Two of the skeletons notch arrows in their bows and take aim. Paige grasp her Warhammer firmly and raises it in front of her.

GAME GIRL
100%

A deep breath.

SKELETON WARRIOR
150%

A dash of confidence.

And she charges the skeletons, determination stuck on her face. The two skeletons release their arrows and they soar through the air as GG speeds through the water. The first arrow misses barely, the second heads directly towards Paige's head but she throws up her hammer and deflects it away. The two archers ready their bows once more as the other three begin to clash their rusted swords against their wooden round shields. Paige gets closer to the decaying enemies and tow arrows head her way, Paige throws her left hand out. ⇦ ⇩ ⇨ ⇦ ⇩ ⇨ A B - Power Geyser! A pillar of energy bursts from Paige's hand, destroying the arrows instantly.

One of the skeletons rushes Game Girl and takes a swing with it's sword but hits the water as Paige side steps with energy coming from her feet, the animated skeleton turns it's head curiously and lets out a growl. Paige raises her hammer as the skeleton puts up his shield, but it's not enough, the hammer crashes through the shield making splinters out of it and the giant hunk of rare metal obliterates the skull of the skeleton. The foe falls to the ground with the clatter of bones sounding similar to a xylophone as they clatter against one another before splashing into the water.

SKELETON WARRIORS
120%

No time to celebrate one double dead skeleton as an arrow hits Paige's shoulder. Game Girl cries out in pain and rips the arrow from her shoulder, the two warriors charge Paige as the archers back up into the forest. One takes a swipe at Paige, slicing her jacket but missing flesh, GG steps back and kicks the skeleton's shield back and it stumbles. Paige swings her hammer but it is blocked by the second skeleton, saving his skeletal comrade.

The skeleton stabs at Paige but she rolls out of the way, still crouched her fist glows with a red aura and she uppercuts the skeleton's head clean off. The headless body of the skeleton flails it's arms but doesn't fall to the ground, still trying to swipe at Paige but missing with every swing. Game Girl steps away from the panicked skeleton towards the one with a head, it raises it's battered sword high but Paige counters with a quick thrust of her hammer into the warrior's ribs, cracking a few. Dazed, the skeleton stops it's attack. Paige rears her hammer back and breaks off the skeleton's right leg, causing it to fall skull first into the water.

Paige raises her Warhammer above her head and crushes the skeleton's head with a mighty blow. Water spills upwards from the impact and tiny chunks of bone float to the surface. Paige looks to the archers, a little further back taking aim on her. Game Girl grabs the warrior's shield and hold it in front of her with her spare hand, blocking both arrow shots. She then throws the shield with all her might like a discus and it soars through the air lobbing off one of the archer's heads. It falls to the ground motionless.

GAME GIRL
90%

SKELETON WARRIORS
50%

The last archer let's out a wretched roar as the headless warrior makes it's way to Paige, still flailing around. Paige deals with the foe with ease. One enemy remaining. Paige stares at the archer who releases another shot, quickly Paige mutters something under her breath. The arrow draws near and almost hits GG between the eyes before he vanishes into pixels. The archer looks around with a low growl for a few seconds but is quickly struck by Paige's Warhammer from behind, the final archer falls into a heap of bones. Paige wipes sweat from her forehead and sheathe her Warhammer in her satchel. Quickly she feels replenished and her wound heals.

CONGRATULATIONS!
[Image: lDS7s11.gif]
LEVEL UP!
NEW MOVE LEARNED: Light Bomb!
A huge ball of white energy bursts from Game Girl's hand, blinding and stunning any enemies nearby.


Paige makes a fist, knowing her body has been filled with a new power. She continues to smile and starts to whistle a tune as she turn into the opening of the forest and enters the...

- Cursed Woods, Valley of Torment -

Yes, that. Game Girl walks down an old trail. The sun was fairly high in the sky at Dragon Lake, but it appears to be almost night from the shade of the trees. Animals make chattering in the vegetation, emerald green leaves fall from the trees as crows take off from them. Paige buttons up her jacket as the air gets colder and a thin mist rolls in, getting thicker the further she walks down the trail.

After a few minutes of walking and frantic head turns, Paige sees a shadow of a man crouched in the distant. Paige squints her eyes to see past the fog, it doesn't appear armed nor does it see Paige yet. Game Girl's hand goes close to her satchel, just in case, as she comes closer to the shadowy figure. Several feet away, color can been seen on the shadow, red. But not blood luckily, just red fabric.

Several feet away, the figure stands to it's feet, not much taller than our hero. Paige stops dead in her tracks as the figure turns to face her. Paige's eyes go wide and she gasp, choking on tears.

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Game Boy?"

WORLD 7 - LEVEL 3 COMPLETE!

GAME SAVED.
]]>
WORLD 7 - LEVEL 3



. . .

A dial tone.

. . .

A deep breath.

A dash of confidence.

And ringing.

We join Gabe Bachgan, the founder of Funsoft and creator of Nirva's Sword, the video game that our hero is from. He presses a phone against his ear, pacing back and forth in his depressing hovel, the ground quaking under his girth. A female voice chirps from the other end.

"Hello?"

"Ai! It's Gabe Bachgan."

A smile appears on Gabe's face as he speaks, Ai's voice sounds delighted to hear her old friend.

"Gabe? Haha, it's been too long. How are you?"

"I'm well but it's been a crazy few days. Yourself?"

"Same here haha."

"Haha. Listen, I'd love to chat but this is pretty urgent. Do you still have the Nirva's Sword beta cartridge?"

"Nirva's Sword? That something I haven't thought about in years. But yes, I still have it."

Gabe fist pumps.

"That is fantastic. I need to borrow it, just for a couple of days. Any chance I can swing round soon?"

"Eh.. Gabe I'm sorry but I'm in Montreal right now, Ubisoft is making another Assassin's Creed and they need to hit there different race and religion quota. It sucks, they want to set this game in early 1900s Australia. Aboriginal assassin running around the sand and jumping off big rocks. They've gone off the deep end here."

"That sounds awful. Would the Aboriginal be fighting the British? Trying to stop them making the place a giant prison?"

"Basically yeah, all the British there will be Templars looking for another piece of Eden hidden in the Great Barrier Reef. We're bringing back sailing too, but Billabong specific."

"I'm guessing there will be some boomerang tech?"

"Mhm. Tons and a hidden boomerang too, it's probably the stupidest thing ever BUT they don't want to go to Japan yet, get all the money off the customers first and when they're failing, bang. Japan Assassin's Creed."

"Well in 2020 I will look forward to it's debut trailer and it being delayed 3 times before release."

"Hahaha, why can't it be simple like before?"

"I wish it was Ai. Dammit I said I wasn't here to chat, shame you're in Montreal. When do you get back?"

"I'm here for a few months."

"Crap."

"... You seem pretty hellbent on getting Nirva's Sword. Tell you what, I'll text you the address to my apartment. I'll call the building so the doorman will let you in and make reception hand you a spare key. The game's in my office, can't miss it."

"Ai, you're a lifesaver. I owe you one."

"Don't worry about it. But why do you want the game now? Thinking about fixing it up and releasing it?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Trust me. But getting it released is a good idea, get a Kickstarter up. Make it downloadable only, people love the retro stuff. Shovel Knight, Gunlord, Volgarr the Viking."

"Go for it, I can help out when I get back to Hollywood."

"That'd be great."

"Could catch up over coffee too, if you'd like."

Gabe hesitates. His smile wide as he let's out a small chuckle.

"That sounds nice."

"Awesome. Anyway, I have to go. The team wants to put in an assassin kangaroo as an easter egg."

"Good to see Ubisoft are focusing on the big selling points."

"Tell me about it. Haha. See you soon GB."

"Goodbye princess."

A smile still stuck on his face, Gabe takes a seat on his couch and grabs his laptop. He taps on the keyboard with lightning speed and opens up Kickstarter. He stares at the homepage for a few seconds, tapping his finger on the hard plastic of the laptop before sighing and closing the browser to the desktop wallpaper of a young Gabe and his group posing for the camera. Ai looking royal wearing a tiara and pulling a funny face, Gabe lets out a small laugh as his eyes fix on the screen.

Meanwhile somewhere not on boring old Earth.

- Dragon Lake, Southern Narfinex -

We join Game Girl trudging through knee high murky water, her boots in her hand as she steps slowly with a scowl set on her face, displeased with her current situation. A large crystal ball floats from far behind Game Girl and slowly makes it's way next to Paige. Our hero raises an eyebrow at the large glass sphere and grabs the handle of her hammer poking from her bottomless satchel. The ball fizzles and the milky white turns to an image of Gretchin, stood in her shack. Paige release her grasp of her hammer and relaxes a little, still making her way through the shallow water of the swamp.

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Oh, hi Gretchin."

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"Game Girl."

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"What's up?"

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"Just checking in. Gabe made contact with a woman named Ai, he will retrieve the cartridge soon."

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
":D That's fantastic news!"

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"That it is. Where are you now?"

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"I'm making my way through the Dragon Lake swamp lands. Should be coming up to the woods soon and then the Valley of Torment."

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"You're making good time. How long has it been since you left? 7, 8 hours?"

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"6 hours and 23 minutes. Running low on stamina potions though, might not be able to keep up the pace."

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"Hm. There should be an inn pass the valley. Rest up there."

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Good to know, thanks Gretchin."

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"Happy to help. You have a match in the XWF soon too, make sure you're prepared for that as well."

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Shouldn't be a problem. I have 2 Adrenaline vials just in case. . . Is it true that time moves differently on Urf?"

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"Indeed it does. Half a day here is longer than a day on Earth. You can go into your match and come back here and not miss the wind changing."

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Cool. Glad to know I'm not wasting my time here while I deal with Sebastian Duke."

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"Very regal name Sebastian, from what I've seen he's a tough competitor and such a strapping man."

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Ew. :/ . I'm a little worried, he's one of the best in XWF. Hope I don't screw up."

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"I'll be proud of you whatever happens dear."

Paige smiles widely, looking at the crystal ball with starry eyes. Gretchin hesitates for a moment as Paige starts to put her books back on, the water more shallow than before. Gretchin changes the subject..

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"What match are you in on Earth? Smash Brothers? Mortal Kombat? . . . Super Mario Bros?"

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Nah, 2 out of 3 match. Again. Er, singles, finisher and ladder. Earth rules are weird, not sure if I like them."

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"Their world, their rules I guess."

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Yeah. Just weird y'know. And we're fighting in a place called ay tee n tee. That's super weird right?"

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"It is a very strange name for a region."

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Game Boy fitted in with the human stuff pretty well, but this is just so bizarre to me."

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"I wouldn't worry about it Game Girl, you're fully equipped to deal with anything Earth throws at you."

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Hopefully. . . . So. . How's Princess?"

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"It's sweet that you care."

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Shut up."

Paige says as she brushes hair away from her eyes, looking straight forward as she sees the treeline.

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"She's .. Coping. Flynn and Palanius are handling the clean up well enough. But she's still mourning, and her feelings toward you don't help."

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Ugh. I don't blame her. I did do a pretty cruddy thing."

[Image: U07lHjJ.png?2]
"She'll get over it, one day she'll realize what is more important."

Paige twiddles her thumbs and nods slowly. Suddenly an arrow pierces through the air and smashes into the crystal ball, the orb fizzles and stops mid air for a second before crashing into the water below. Paige looks up shocked, first at the ball then to the archer. Five skeletons stand at an opening to the forest, Paige looks in between them with wide eyes and pulls the hammer from her satchel. Two of the skeletons notch arrows in their bows and take aim. Paige grasp her Warhammer firmly and raises it in front of her.

GAME GIRL
100%

A deep breath.

SKELETON WARRIOR
150%

A dash of confidence.

And she charges the skeletons, determination stuck on her face. The two skeletons release their arrows and they soar through the air as GG speeds through the water. The first arrow misses barely, the second heads directly towards Paige's head but she throws up her hammer and deflects it away. The two archers ready their bows once more as the other three begin to clash their rusted swords against their wooden round shields. Paige gets closer to the decaying enemies and tow arrows head her way, Paige throws her left hand out. ⇦ ⇩ ⇨ ⇦ ⇩ ⇨ A B - Power Geyser! A pillar of energy bursts from Paige's hand, destroying the arrows instantly.

One of the skeletons rushes Game Girl and takes a swing with it's sword but hits the water as Paige side steps with energy coming from her feet, the animated skeleton turns it's head curiously and lets out a growl. Paige raises her hammer as the skeleton puts up his shield, but it's not enough, the hammer crashes through the shield making splinters out of it and the giant hunk of rare metal obliterates the skull of the skeleton. The foe falls to the ground with the clatter of bones sounding similar to a xylophone as they clatter against one another before splashing into the water.

SKELETON WARRIORS
120%

No time to celebrate one double dead skeleton as an arrow hits Paige's shoulder. Game Girl cries out in pain and rips the arrow from her shoulder, the two warriors charge Paige as the archers back up into the forest. One takes a swipe at Paige, slicing her jacket but missing flesh, GG steps back and kicks the skeleton's shield back and it stumbles. Paige swings her hammer but it is blocked by the second skeleton, saving his skeletal comrade.

The skeleton stabs at Paige but she rolls out of the way, still crouched her fist glows with a red aura and she uppercuts the skeleton's head clean off. The headless body of the skeleton flails it's arms but doesn't fall to the ground, still trying to swipe at Paige but missing with every swing. Game Girl steps away from the panicked skeleton towards the one with a head, it raises it's battered sword high but Paige counters with a quick thrust of her hammer into the warrior's ribs, cracking a few. Dazed, the skeleton stops it's attack. Paige rears her hammer back and breaks off the skeleton's right leg, causing it to fall skull first into the water.

Paige raises her Warhammer above her head and crushes the skeleton's head with a mighty blow. Water spills upwards from the impact and tiny chunks of bone float to the surface. Paige looks to the archers, a little further back taking aim on her. Game Girl grabs the warrior's shield and hold it in front of her with her spare hand, blocking both arrow shots. She then throws the shield with all her might like a discus and it soars through the air lobbing off one of the archer's heads. It falls to the ground motionless.

GAME GIRL
90%

SKELETON WARRIORS
50%

The last archer let's out a wretched roar as the headless warrior makes it's way to Paige, still flailing around. Paige deals with the foe with ease. One enemy remaining. Paige stares at the archer who releases another shot, quickly Paige mutters something under her breath. The arrow draws near and almost hits GG between the eyes before he vanishes into pixels. The archer looks around with a low growl for a few seconds but is quickly struck by Paige's Warhammer from behind, the final archer falls into a heap of bones. Paige wipes sweat from her forehead and sheathe her Warhammer in her satchel. Quickly she feels replenished and her wound heals.

CONGRATULATIONS!
[Image: lDS7s11.gif]
LEVEL UP!
NEW MOVE LEARNED: Light Bomb!
A huge ball of white energy bursts from Game Girl's hand, blinding and stunning any enemies nearby.


Paige makes a fist, knowing her body has been filled with a new power. She continues to smile and starts to whistle a tune as she turn into the opening of the forest and enters the...

- Cursed Woods, Valley of Torment -

Yes, that. Game Girl walks down an old trail. The sun was fairly high in the sky at Dragon Lake, but it appears to be almost night from the shade of the trees. Animals make chattering in the vegetation, emerald green leaves fall from the trees as crows take off from them. Paige buttons up her jacket as the air gets colder and a thin mist rolls in, getting thicker the further she walks down the trail.

After a few minutes of walking and frantic head turns, Paige sees a shadow of a man crouched in the distant. Paige squints her eyes to see past the fog, it doesn't appear armed nor does it see Paige yet. Game Girl's hand goes close to her satchel, just in case, as she comes closer to the shadowy figure. Several feet away, color can been seen on the shadow, red. But not blood luckily, just red fabric.

Several feet away, the figure stands to it's feet, not much taller than our hero. Paige stops dead in her tracks as the figure turns to face her. Paige's eyes go wide and she gasp, choking on tears.

[Image: ockNnw7.png?1]
"Game Boy?"

WORLD 7 - LEVEL 3 COMPLETE!

GAME SAVED.
]]> <![CDATA[No you're not... you're a fraud]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20075 Fri, 22 May 2015 09:55:48 -0700 Lightningbolt Z]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20075
Sexy Zorthorian Woman: “OOOHHH HELP US LIGHTNING BOLT! SO MANY IMPOSTERS DOWN ON THIS STUPID LITTLE PLANET CALLED EARTH THAT TRY TO BE YOU!”

Lightningbolt Z: “I have heard your prayers my child, all shall be well.”

The nearly ten foot tall god appears before her, naked, her eyes well up while looking at his penis. The Zorthorian wench drops to her knees, this is her redemption… make the right choice and all of her past wrong doings shall be forgiven. She makes the right choice and receives a warm, white, hearty gift from her God, Lightningbolt Z…

Lightningbolt Z: “Now I shall go to this planet Earth and set right all of the evil, blasphemous, wrong doings of homosexuals like Thunderbolt X and John Cena.”

Lightningbolt Z shoots a brilliantly magnificent bolt of lightning from his anus, then places it under his feet like a hooverboard and soars down through space and through the Heavens of Earth…he stops to have a chat with the God of Earth.

God: “Ahhh! The Son of Zorthor… it’s been too long. What can I do for?”

Lightningbolt Z: “Indeed it has. Well, Sir, with all due respect… you have quite a group of homosexuals running around on your planet. Most notably John Cena and Thunderbolt X, they’re running around trying to emulate my appearance.”

God: “Yes, I understand… I’ve been dealing with this shit for a long time. Thought I had wiped all the queers out in Sodom, but maybe there’s something to this whole evolution thing and me needing to work together with it.
But if you’d like to go down to Earth to take care of them, I give you permission, I was merely going to send them to hell anyway.”

Lightningbolt Z nods, then takes off on his Lightningbolt down to Earth. He first arrives in Chicago, where he sees a two-legged pussy cat stuck in a burning tree. It’s May.

Some gay kid with a John Cena shirt: “JOHN CENA!!! HALP PLZ!!! MY KITTEN IZZ BURNDING!!!”

Blasphemy… Lightningbolt Z saves the pussy cat from sure death and hands him to the child. The boy thanks him by calling him john Cena again, that’s double blasphemy. Odd though, why would he not be referring to him as the other imposter? The one who wears his mask… Thunderbolt X? It must be that:

Quote: Thunderbolt X can be seen in an unknown and disclosed location.

Because somehow being in existence and cutting awful interviews, in an unknown location and a disclosed location at the same time, cancels out through some oxymoron paradox, thus rendering Thunderbolt X as worthless and nonexistent.

Lightningbolt Z spares the mentally gifted child, and buys he and his two-legged pussy cat a hotdog from the nearest stand.

Lightningbolt Z now finds himself at some shitty WWE show where John Cena is in the ring with his whore wife Nikki Bella issuing another open challenge to which a really good wrestler will answer, only to job to this blasphemous . Lightningbolt Z rides in on his bolt of lightning, Nikki is in awe at the size of his penis that can be seen hanging down underneath of his lionskin tunic. He begins fucking Nikki infront of Cena, and hoses the whore off of her with a Superhero/God sized eruption of semen segods.

Cena doesn’t like this and attacks, only to be ripped in half by a single eyebrow raised stare from Lightningbolt Z.

The Zothorian God holds Nikki’s segod covered body in his arms and begins lifting into the air and up toward the ceiling as:


Plays over the loudspeakers. Lightningbolt Z rips through the roof of the arena, but he is a God and Nikki is a smut, and she is instantly decapitated by some of the falling debree….

“Thunderbolt X, I’m coming for you, to right your nonexistent interview cutting, homosexual, multiple quotation in the same paragraph, imposter ways. You’re a worse imposter of me than John Cena was… it’s really awful.

Yes Thunderbolt, being a God I can do anything better than anyone, even this silly little rhyming art you call rap:

Look you’re fake,
For fuck sake you’re afraid
You’ve been playing with Lane's little thang in the cradle
You praise Drake

You stand adjacent to baseless, basics
You’re crazy if you thank I can’t hang with…
You in the aspect of anything
You’re a disgrace.. go get some Lasik

You must not be able to see… G
I’m the lightning striking your bee’s knees
That means when Kelly B, sees me
She drops down and opens her teethe piece

….I’ll stop there, no need to continue such a homosexually driven art form. But just so you’re informed about something for once in your life Thunderbolt, the ever advancing genre of hip-hop should always consist of rhyme schemes including multi-rhymes, word play and syllable balancing.

Bare that in mind next time to avoid sounding like a bigger jackass then you already are…

Lightningbolt Z is here to expose you as a fraud, and show the world what it’d really look like if the Chosen Son of the Zorthorian Heavens stepped into a wrestling ring. I am going to teach you a lesson about pretending to other people and why it will forever make you suck…

Maybe if you weren’t so concerned with trying to be John Cena, who has always tried emulating the look of Lightningbolt Z, you wouldn’t lose so many of these silly little wrestling matches because you wouldn’t be wearing that blasphemous mask that you can barely see out of. You also wouldn’t be spitting atrocious raps in your already horrible promos which make you look dumb as shit.

Thunder is loud and shakes the surface a bit from time to time, but that’s it… Lightning, well lightning is power, it’s electricity that powers your puny little planet Earth. You ever hear of someone dying from a thunder storm? Of course not, because just like you, it’s all bark and no bite. Where on the other hand lightning, just like Lightningbolt Z will and is going to deep fry your ass.

While I am going to teach you a lesson Thunderbolt, I’m also going to spare you unlike I did your homosexual role model John Cena… I’m not going to completely smite you. I want you to learn from this little experience that trying to be exactly like someone else is wrong and it makes you look stupid, and trying to be like a God is even more wrong, especially when you suck.

After Bad Medicine I want you to lay down your cause of trying to look, speak and wrestle like John Cena, he sucked because he tried being a God. I also want you to give up the dream of sleeping with Vinnie Lane… he has AIDs, and considering I know the God of your world on a personal level, I should let you know that no one with AIDs enters his kingdom.]]>
Sexy Zorthorian Woman: “OOOHHH HELP US LIGHTNING BOLT! SO MANY IMPOSTERS DOWN ON THIS STUPID LITTLE PLANET CALLED EARTH THAT TRY TO BE YOU!”

Lightningbolt Z: “I have heard your prayers my child, all shall be well.”

The nearly ten foot tall god appears before her, naked, her eyes well up while looking at his penis. The Zorthorian wench drops to her knees, this is her redemption… make the right choice and all of her past wrong doings shall be forgiven. She makes the right choice and receives a warm, white, hearty gift from her God, Lightningbolt Z…

Lightningbolt Z: “Now I shall go to this planet Earth and set right all of the evil, blasphemous, wrong doings of homosexuals like Thunderbolt X and John Cena.”

Lightningbolt Z shoots a brilliantly magnificent bolt of lightning from his anus, then places it under his feet like a hooverboard and soars down through space and through the Heavens of Earth…he stops to have a chat with the God of Earth.

God: “Ahhh! The Son of Zorthor… it’s been too long. What can I do for?”

Lightningbolt Z: “Indeed it has. Well, Sir, with all due respect… you have quite a group of homosexuals running around on your planet. Most notably John Cena and Thunderbolt X, they’re running around trying to emulate my appearance.”

God: “Yes, I understand… I’ve been dealing with this shit for a long time. Thought I had wiped all the queers out in Sodom, but maybe there’s something to this whole evolution thing and me needing to work together with it.
But if you’d like to go down to Earth to take care of them, I give you permission, I was merely going to send them to hell anyway.”

Lightningbolt Z nods, then takes off on his Lightningbolt down to Earth. He first arrives in Chicago, where he sees a two-legged pussy cat stuck in a burning tree. It’s May.

Some gay kid with a John Cena shirt: “JOHN CENA!!! HALP PLZ!!! MY KITTEN IZZ BURNDING!!!”

Blasphemy… Lightningbolt Z saves the pussy cat from sure death and hands him to the child. The boy thanks him by calling him john Cena again, that’s double blasphemy. Odd though, why would he not be referring to him as the other imposter? The one who wears his mask… Thunderbolt X? It must be that:

Quote: Thunderbolt X can be seen in an unknown and disclosed location.

Because somehow being in existence and cutting awful interviews, in an unknown location and a disclosed location at the same time, cancels out through some oxymoron paradox, thus rendering Thunderbolt X as worthless and nonexistent.

Lightningbolt Z spares the mentally gifted child, and buys he and his two-legged pussy cat a hotdog from the nearest stand.

Lightningbolt Z now finds himself at some shitty WWE show where John Cena is in the ring with his whore wife Nikki Bella issuing another open challenge to which a really good wrestler will answer, only to job to this blasphemous . Lightningbolt Z rides in on his bolt of lightning, Nikki is in awe at the size of his penis that can be seen hanging down underneath of his lionskin tunic. He begins fucking Nikki infront of Cena, and hoses the whore off of her with a Superhero/God sized eruption of semen segods.

Cena doesn’t like this and attacks, only to be ripped in half by a single eyebrow raised stare from Lightningbolt Z.

The Zothorian God holds Nikki’s segod covered body in his arms and begins lifting into the air and up toward the ceiling as:


Plays over the loudspeakers. Lightningbolt Z rips through the roof of the arena, but he is a God and Nikki is a smut, and she is instantly decapitated by some of the falling debree….

“Thunderbolt X, I’m coming for you, to right your nonexistent interview cutting, homosexual, multiple quotation in the same paragraph, imposter ways. You’re a worse imposter of me than John Cena was… it’s really awful.

Yes Thunderbolt, being a God I can do anything better than anyone, even this silly little rhyming art you call rap:

Look you’re fake,
For fuck sake you’re afraid
You’ve been playing with Lane's little thang in the cradle
You praise Drake

You stand adjacent to baseless, basics
You’re crazy if you thank I can’t hang with…
You in the aspect of anything
You’re a disgrace.. go get some Lasik

You must not be able to see… G
I’m the lightning striking your bee’s knees
That means when Kelly B, sees me
She drops down and opens her teethe piece

….I’ll stop there, no need to continue such a homosexually driven art form. But just so you’re informed about something for once in your life Thunderbolt, the ever advancing genre of hip-hop should always consist of rhyme schemes including multi-rhymes, word play and syllable balancing.

Bare that in mind next time to avoid sounding like a bigger jackass then you already are…

Lightningbolt Z is here to expose you as a fraud, and show the world what it’d really look like if the Chosen Son of the Zorthorian Heavens stepped into a wrestling ring. I am going to teach you a lesson about pretending to other people and why it will forever make you suck…

Maybe if you weren’t so concerned with trying to be John Cena, who has always tried emulating the look of Lightningbolt Z, you wouldn’t lose so many of these silly little wrestling matches because you wouldn’t be wearing that blasphemous mask that you can barely see out of. You also wouldn’t be spitting atrocious raps in your already horrible promos which make you look dumb as shit.

Thunder is loud and shakes the surface a bit from time to time, but that’s it… Lightning, well lightning is power, it’s electricity that powers your puny little planet Earth. You ever hear of someone dying from a thunder storm? Of course not, because just like you, it’s all bark and no bite. Where on the other hand lightning, just like Lightningbolt Z will and is going to deep fry your ass.

While I am going to teach you a lesson Thunderbolt, I’m also going to spare you unlike I did your homosexual role model John Cena… I’m not going to completely smite you. I want you to learn from this little experience that trying to be exactly like someone else is wrong and it makes you look stupid, and trying to be like a God is even more wrong, especially when you suck.

After Bad Medicine I want you to lay down your cause of trying to look, speak and wrestle like John Cena, he sucked because he tried being a God. I also want you to give up the dream of sleeping with Vinnie Lane… he has AIDs, and considering I know the God of your world on a personal level, I should let you know that no one with AIDs enters his kingdom.]]> <![CDATA[Whippin' up some Breakfast]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20076 Fri, 22 May 2015 07:03:50 -0700 Mr Killjoy]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20076 :::This interview is brought to you in association with Xtreme Wrestling Federation co :::

::: We are a greeted with a "The Breakfast Club" radio banner. The hottest Hip Hop and anything-street related radio show on the planet::


[Image: hqdefault.jpg]


:: When it fades out we are met with the sight of the Breakfast Club hosts, the inquisitive DJ Envy and the exquisite Angela Yee, in the Breakfast club Studio sitting side by side, overhead microphones positioned in front of them. On the other side of the desk separated by a glass barrier is Trax seated with another overhead microphone situated in front of him level with his face which is donning Oakley shades and that rapidly becoming familiar shit eating grin, he looks like he has no care or worry in the world, and why would he? :::

DJ Envy:: Morning people I'm DJ Envy I'm here with the beautiful Angela Yee and we got a special guest in the studio tonight, professional wrestler and one of the latest additions to the XWF, thats Xtreme Wrestling Federation for y'all that living under a rock, brand. Trax, waddup my man?


Waddup Envy, and Angela I gotta say you are looking mighty fine this morning.

Angela Yee:: I woke up like this (laughs) thanks handsome it's good to have you here with us.

DJ Envy:: Now you're a special guest Trax like I said we don't usually have people not involved in the Hip Hop industry on the show but what people don't know is me and you go back a couple years.

We do, beat you at beer pong at my boys Timberlands house party (laughs) for the record I've dabbled in the Hip Hop industry, dropped a mixtape when I was 16, moved a couple units in the hood, sure I told you?

DJ Envy:: Shit you right I remember you telling me.

Angela Yee :: Rap, box, wrestle, is there anything you can't do?

Well unfortunately my aspired rap career didn't quiet take off, that shit is hard, I mean beating people to a pulp is easy man, but song writing, getting the right production, getting the mixing right, that shit takes real effort (laughs).

Angela Yee :: Speaking about beating people up so like Envy's already clarified you've come out of retirement and laced up them boots and stepped back into the squared circle, now I'm a big wrestling fan I watched your career in FCW, you had some classic matches, rivalries and the level of competition there was insane.

It was

You've already touched upon in another interview why you've come back but can I ask what made you pick XWF?

Well obviously I'm used to a high level of competition, working in a federation with various talented individuals most of whom have got something to bring to the table, I had that hunger to come out of retirement but I didn't want to go to a federation where the talent and competition was a couple leagues lower than what I was used to y'know? So I did a bit of scouting. Bit of research. Poked my head through a couple of doors and from the federations I came across XWF is the company that's best suited for someone of my calibre.

DJ Envy:: I'm with you on that one. Like my partner Angela here I'm a big fan of wrestling reason why we reached out to you and got you in the studio, you're a legend in your own right but XWF is home to legends too, both past and in the making. Their slogan is "The action never stops" and man from what I've seen they ain't lying. Things go from 0 to 100 real quick on the shows. Some hungry tough competitors.

Exactly. I want nothing less.

Angela Yee:: Anyone you've seen that you're looking forward to facing? I mean other than the Universal Champion, whoever that may be after Bad Medicine.

There's a couple of people I've seen and that I've thought to myself there's potential for us to put on a greeting showing if and when we faced off, sure.

DJ Envy:: Who?

Thats a secret (wink) I'll say this though, rookie, veteran, jobber, legend, man, woman, zombie, mummy, everybody on the roster needs to look over their collective shoulders, however by the time they do I would of more than likely already passed them by.

DJ Envy:: I personally can't wait for you to square up against the Doctor.

Angela Yee:: Maybe you should answer the Intercontinental champion Sebastian Duke's challenge? That guys begging the XWF management to face somebody new and credible and that would be an awesome match up.

That would be a good match Envy, when the time comes, and Angela you may be on to something there. Those two would be great challenges, resulting in some great matches for sure. You can throw me in the ring against anyone however and you're guaranteed to have at the very least a decent match up even if I have to carry my opponent or opponents, something I feel like I'm going to have to do at Bad Medicine.

DJ Envy:: Let's talk about your opponents at Bad Medicine shall we? Swagmire and DMX-Factor, both have had a lot to say this week, some strong words and good promos from both.


Angela Yee:: This whole match up came about due to Swagmire throwing racist jabs at you and DMX backstage. How do you deal with a guy like that? Repeatedly injecting racism into his promos despite being biracial himself.


The racism is not an issue to me, I've had racist remarks thrown at me all my life, racism is everywhere and it will never go away, I've learnt to deal with it, it doesn't detract from my accomplishments and it doesn't leave a dent on my self esteem, his jabs at me hit thin air, I promise though when we're in the ring, mine won't.

Angela Yee:: So it doesn't really bother you.

Not at all. Although I am curious as to why he is how he is when he's biracial. Muddy Waters I can understand, but him? Maybe the other mix raced and black kids rejected him at school and wouldn't let him play games with them maybe?

DJ Envy:: Could be on to something there! He made a rebuttal about you insinuating Martin Luther King would want you to kick his ass because he was a man of peace, do you genuinely belief if he was alive he would condone violent actions against Swagmire, or anyone like him for that matter?

I realize the type of man MLK was, a pacifist, although I think he'd change his tune if he saw ignorance on the level of Swagmires. Kind of like that episode of the Boondocks, where MLK isn't dead but in fact is in a coma and eventually comes out of it, and when he sees how fucked up the world he's woken up to has become, he becomes a man of anger, frustration, and ultimately drops his ideologies, I reckon a man such as Swagmire would have the same effect on MLK.

Angela Yee:: I loved that episode.

DJ Envy:: Same, he must bother you a little though man, right?

Well yeah what irks me, what REALLY frustrates me about Swagmire is not his backwards mentality regard black people but his backwards mentality about this match. He thinks he can half ass it, he thinks he can mail it in, against me you go into a match with that attitude and you've already lost and I'm trying to plant that fact into him but I guess I'll just have to do it by planting his face into the canvas. He's never lost against a black wrestler? Well I've never lost to anyone whose head and heart isn't fully in the game, his isn't, he's already shown that, basically admitted it several times, I've never lost to someone like that, and I'm not about to begin.

It's funny how in his eyes, black people are probably lazy workers, when he is in fact one of the laziest workers I have ever seen in my life. Over the hill cop. Over the hill wrestler. He just shows up once every blue moon, clumsily fumbles and goes through the motion of something that imitates a wrestling match then leaves, laying down and relinquishing titles, because its "funny", me crushing his larynx with the Trap Silencer so he can never speak again, now that's "funny". His whole demeanour and attitude is a spit in the face of everyone breaking their backs figuratively and literally to go out there on weekly basis and push themselves, everyone whose backs this company has been built on. He's never broke his back for this company or any company, so at Bad Medicine, I'll break his fucking back in several places.

He is completely unfocused. Look at his last mediocre promotion. The first half was directed completely at me, which is reasonable because I'm the biggest threat in this match, but it was mostly tedious worn out talk. Really the dude is still crying over the fact I attacked Sanders? I was in the building because I was signing and going over the finishing touches of my contract with management, Sanders issued an open challenge and I answered it, anyone could of, most of the Monday warfare roster members were in the building that night, its standard procedure, he wasn't though was he, where was he? Oh that's right. Shadows of irrelevancy. Part-time buster. Dude needs to "let it go" like that Frozen song, I know he knows all the lyrics, this dudes iPod playlist is more feminine than Tyler Perrys wardrobe.

Angela Yee:: (laughs)

DJ Envy:: Shout out to my boy Tyler Perry!!

Then the second part of his promo had fuck all to do with anything. He doesn't even mention DMX in his third promo, not even once. Focusing on one opponent and failing to address the other? Poor promotional skills. In fact, in the three promos Swagmire has done so far has he even talked about the stipulation of the match? Barely. One or two sentences. The whole point of promotions is to promote the match and any stipulations it may have and talk about your opponents. In his last promo he didn't even mention DMX and he's barely said a word about the match stipulation throughout this week. Come on this is basic promotional skills here. Mailing it in with the promos, mailing it in with his dedication and work ethic. Pathetic.

He can make light of my past and come up with all the gay conspiracies about me fucking Sanders he likes. Hey Swaggy, if you have fantasies about men doing sexual acts on other men, making gay jokes, that's on you homie. Bad Medicine, I leave scars on your back and break you in half, feel free to make a gay joke out of that, c'mon, anything to make you feel better, I know you won't be able to resist, get all the wisecracks in while you still can, Bad Medicine, you're done, you and the man you've seemingly forgot about, DMX.

DJ Envy:: Speaking of which... DMX now this guy is the self proclaimed wild card in the match right, he's come out said you're intimidated by him, that it'd be a mistake to overlook him. What are your thoughts on DMX?

I've already said that I find DMX somewhat admirable, he has the passion and the drive. Something we both share. Does he like me having the abilities and ring prowess to use that hunger to get to where he wants to go? We shall see, maybe in far off future sometime but not at Bad Medicine where he has to go through me, an impossible situation which he will find out. Intimidated by him? Why would I be? He has given me no reason to be, he's right I do pride myself on being strong in all aspects that matter. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. My body, my mind, have both been put through imaginable strain throughout my life as a wrestler and even before that, I have been involved in some barbaric matches, matches that have seen flesh torn clean off my bone, left me with injuries I've been told I'll never recover from, but have.

Angela Yee:: True.

I have been doubted, screwed over, had people try and get into my head, even go after my family at attempts to get one over me mentally and I have endured, my career has made me a hardened man, who doesn't fear pain, is not moved by petty comments and insults like the ones Swagmire throws around and is definitely not intimidated by men such as DMX.

DMX is a small high flyer, I know his body is built for speed but if he thinks I'm underestimating him for being a vanilla midget, well in this case, chocolate midget, he's terribly wrong.

I mean really, I've faced opponents of all sizes and styles, small and fast, big and durable, it doesn't matter, he thinks I've never wrestled people of similar stature and size like him? Really? He needs to wise up. He'd have to be a complete idiot to think that shit. He thinks I can't react to his speed? Then it's him underestimating me. My reflexes are efficiently attuned. I saw his promo. He genuinely believes I'll have trouble with "fast moving targets", what because the opponents I've faced in the past have all just stood there and let me wail on them? He prides himself on his intelligence then well hm, maybe he could utilize it some more. I can hit him, ground him and beat him soundly and convincingly. I assure you.

Angela Yee:: You haven't got to assure us.

DJ Envy:: No sir.

Angela Yee:: He had some lyrics from Hovs "crown" track in his promo, interesting choice of lyrics.

Interesting in the fact those lyrics didn't apply to him whatsoever. They apply to Jay Z because Jay Z is arguably the king of rap. With other rappers constantly trying to take the crown off him. What is DMX the king of? What crown does he have? Please. He is the King of nothing. Nobody is trying to take his crown because he has no crown to take.

On another note I hope he had a good Birthday. Truly. I hope him and his little buddies celebrated to their hearts contents. Because after Bad Medicine, there will be no celebrations. There will be no toasts or laughter. There will be only be disappointment and anguish. He won't be getting embraced by his friends or family after this match, he'll be in the back, getting the lacerations on his body tended to by the XWF doctors. No celebrations. Just disappointment. So he should celebrate while he can. Him winning this match is a fools dream, illogical, kinda like its illogical how in his last promo he was talking in mostly perfect English but the two before that he was speaking in mostly slang.

Angela Yee:: Yeah I picked up on that too, seems to be having a bit of a personality crisis there maybe (laughs)

(laughs) Possibly, he's an self entitled "enigma" remember. Full of mysteries that kid.

:: Trio laugh collectively ::

Angela Yee:: Hilarious. Thats all we got time for now, Trax it's been good for you pop by even if it was brief .

Don't mention it, it's been good passing through.


DJ Envy:: Hey maybe we could get DMX on here next? He calls himself the freestyla among a whole bunch of other names, maybe we can get him to spit a couple of hot bars live on air?

Should get Swagmire to do the Fresh Prince of Bel Air rap live on air instead considering he looks exactly like Carlton Banks.

::Trio laugh collectively once more as the scene fades ::]]> :::This interview is brought to you in association with Xtreme Wrestling Federation co :::

::: We are a greeted with a "The Breakfast Club" radio banner. The hottest Hip Hop and anything-street related radio show on the planet::


[Image: hqdefault.jpg]


:: When it fades out we are met with the sight of the Breakfast Club hosts, the inquisitive DJ Envy and the exquisite Angela Yee, in the Breakfast club Studio sitting side by side, overhead microphones positioned in front of them. On the other side of the desk separated by a glass barrier is Trax seated with another overhead microphone situated in front of him level with his face which is donning Oakley shades and that rapidly becoming familiar shit eating grin, he looks like he has no care or worry in the world, and why would he? :::

DJ Envy:: Morning people I'm DJ Envy I'm here with the beautiful Angela Yee and we got a special guest in the studio tonight, professional wrestler and one of the latest additions to the XWF, thats Xtreme Wrestling Federation for y'all that living under a rock, brand. Trax, waddup my man?


Waddup Envy, and Angela I gotta say you are looking mighty fine this morning.

Angela Yee:: I woke up like this (laughs) thanks handsome it's good to have you here with us.

DJ Envy:: Now you're a special guest Trax like I said we don't usually have people not involved in the Hip Hop industry on the show but what people don't know is me and you go back a couple years.

We do, beat you at beer pong at my boys Timberlands house party (laughs) for the record I've dabbled in the Hip Hop industry, dropped a mixtape when I was 16, moved a couple units in the hood, sure I told you?

DJ Envy:: Shit you right I remember you telling me.

Angela Yee :: Rap, box, wrestle, is there anything you can't do?

Well unfortunately my aspired rap career didn't quiet take off, that shit is hard, I mean beating people to a pulp is easy man, but song writing, getting the right production, getting the mixing right, that shit takes real effort (laughs).

Angela Yee :: Speaking about beating people up so like Envy's already clarified you've come out of retirement and laced up them boots and stepped back into the squared circle, now I'm a big wrestling fan I watched your career in FCW, you had some classic matches, rivalries and the level of competition there was insane.

It was

You've already touched upon in another interview why you've come back but can I ask what made you pick XWF?

Well obviously I'm used to a high level of competition, working in a federation with various talented individuals most of whom have got something to bring to the table, I had that hunger to come out of retirement but I didn't want to go to a federation where the talent and competition was a couple leagues lower than what I was used to y'know? So I did a bit of scouting. Bit of research. Poked my head through a couple of doors and from the federations I came across XWF is the company that's best suited for someone of my calibre.

DJ Envy:: I'm with you on that one. Like my partner Angela here I'm a big fan of wrestling reason why we reached out to you and got you in the studio, you're a legend in your own right but XWF is home to legends too, both past and in the making. Their slogan is "The action never stops" and man from what I've seen they ain't lying. Things go from 0 to 100 real quick on the shows. Some hungry tough competitors.

Exactly. I want nothing less.

Angela Yee:: Anyone you've seen that you're looking forward to facing? I mean other than the Universal Champion, whoever that may be after Bad Medicine.

There's a couple of people I've seen and that I've thought to myself there's potential for us to put on a greeting showing if and when we faced off, sure.

DJ Envy:: Who?

Thats a secret (wink) I'll say this though, rookie, veteran, jobber, legend, man, woman, zombie, mummy, everybody on the roster needs to look over their collective shoulders, however by the time they do I would of more than likely already passed them by.

DJ Envy:: I personally can't wait for you to square up against the Doctor.

Angela Yee:: Maybe you should answer the Intercontinental champion Sebastian Duke's challenge? That guys begging the XWF management to face somebody new and credible and that would be an awesome match up.

That would be a good match Envy, when the time comes, and Angela you may be on to something there. Those two would be great challenges, resulting in some great matches for sure. You can throw me in the ring against anyone however and you're guaranteed to have at the very least a decent match up even if I have to carry my opponent or opponents, something I feel like I'm going to have to do at Bad Medicine.

DJ Envy:: Let's talk about your opponents at Bad Medicine shall we? Swagmire and DMX-Factor, both have had a lot to say this week, some strong words and good promos from both.


Angela Yee:: This whole match up came about due to Swagmire throwing racist jabs at you and DMX backstage. How do you deal with a guy like that? Repeatedly injecting racism into his promos despite being biracial himself.


The racism is not an issue to me, I've had racist remarks thrown at me all my life, racism is everywhere and it will never go away, I've learnt to deal with it, it doesn't detract from my accomplishments and it doesn't leave a dent on my self esteem, his jabs at me hit thin air, I promise though when we're in the ring, mine won't.

Angela Yee:: So it doesn't really bother you.

Not at all. Although I am curious as to why he is how he is when he's biracial. Muddy Waters I can understand, but him? Maybe the other mix raced and black kids rejected him at school and wouldn't let him play games with them maybe?

DJ Envy:: Could be on to something there! He made a rebuttal about you insinuating Martin Luther King would want you to kick his ass because he was a man of peace, do you genuinely belief if he was alive he would condone violent actions against Swagmire, or anyone like him for that matter?

I realize the type of man MLK was, a pacifist, although I think he'd change his tune if he saw ignorance on the level of Swagmires. Kind of like that episode of the Boondocks, where MLK isn't dead but in fact is in a coma and eventually comes out of it, and when he sees how fucked up the world he's woken up to has become, he becomes a man of anger, frustration, and ultimately drops his ideologies, I reckon a man such as Swagmire would have the same effect on MLK.

Angela Yee:: I loved that episode.

DJ Envy:: Same, he must bother you a little though man, right?

Well yeah what irks me, what REALLY frustrates me about Swagmire is not his backwards mentality regard black people but his backwards mentality about this match. He thinks he can half ass it, he thinks he can mail it in, against me you go into a match with that attitude and you've already lost and I'm trying to plant that fact into him but I guess I'll just have to do it by planting his face into the canvas. He's never lost against a black wrestler? Well I've never lost to anyone whose head and heart isn't fully in the game, his isn't, he's already shown that, basically admitted it several times, I've never lost to someone like that, and I'm not about to begin.

It's funny how in his eyes, black people are probably lazy workers, when he is in fact one of the laziest workers I have ever seen in my life. Over the hill cop. Over the hill wrestler. He just shows up once every blue moon, clumsily fumbles and goes through the motion of something that imitates a wrestling match then leaves, laying down and relinquishing titles, because its "funny", me crushing his larynx with the Trap Silencer so he can never speak again, now that's "funny". His whole demeanour and attitude is a spit in the face of everyone breaking their backs figuratively and literally to go out there on weekly basis and push themselves, everyone whose backs this company has been built on. He's never broke his back for this company or any company, so at Bad Medicine, I'll break his fucking back in several places.

He is completely unfocused. Look at his last mediocre promotion. The first half was directed completely at me, which is reasonable because I'm the biggest threat in this match, but it was mostly tedious worn out talk. Really the dude is still crying over the fact I attacked Sanders? I was in the building because I was signing and going over the finishing touches of my contract with management, Sanders issued an open challenge and I answered it, anyone could of, most of the Monday warfare roster members were in the building that night, its standard procedure, he wasn't though was he, where was he? Oh that's right. Shadows of irrelevancy. Part-time buster. Dude needs to "let it go" like that Frozen song, I know he knows all the lyrics, this dudes iPod playlist is more feminine than Tyler Perrys wardrobe.

Angela Yee:: (laughs)

DJ Envy:: Shout out to my boy Tyler Perry!!

Then the second part of his promo had fuck all to do with anything. He doesn't even mention DMX in his third promo, not even once. Focusing on one opponent and failing to address the other? Poor promotional skills. In fact, in the three promos Swagmire has done so far has he even talked about the stipulation of the match? Barely. One or two sentences. The whole point of promotions is to promote the match and any stipulations it may have and talk about your opponents. In his last promo he didn't even mention DMX and he's barely said a word about the match stipulation throughout this week. Come on this is basic promotional skills here. Mailing it in with the promos, mailing it in with his dedication and work ethic. Pathetic.

He can make light of my past and come up with all the gay conspiracies about me fucking Sanders he likes. Hey Swaggy, if you have fantasies about men doing sexual acts on other men, making gay jokes, that's on you homie. Bad Medicine, I leave scars on your back and break you in half, feel free to make a gay joke out of that, c'mon, anything to make you feel better, I know you won't be able to resist, get all the wisecracks in while you still can, Bad Medicine, you're done, you and the man you've seemingly forgot about, DMX.

DJ Envy:: Speaking of which... DMX now this guy is the self proclaimed wild card in the match right, he's come out said you're intimidated by him, that it'd be a mistake to overlook him. What are your thoughts on DMX?

I've already said that I find DMX somewhat admirable, he has the passion and the drive. Something we both share. Does he like me having the abilities and ring prowess to use that hunger to get to where he wants to go? We shall see, maybe in far off future sometime but not at Bad Medicine where he has to go through me, an impossible situation which he will find out. Intimidated by him? Why would I be? He has given me no reason to be, he's right I do pride myself on being strong in all aspects that matter. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. My body, my mind, have both been put through imaginable strain throughout my life as a wrestler and even before that, I have been involved in some barbaric matches, matches that have seen flesh torn clean off my bone, left me with injuries I've been told I'll never recover from, but have.

Angela Yee:: True.

I have been doubted, screwed over, had people try and get into my head, even go after my family at attempts to get one over me mentally and I have endured, my career has made me a hardened man, who doesn't fear pain, is not moved by petty comments and insults like the ones Swagmire throws around and is definitely not intimidated by men such as DMX.

DMX is a small high flyer, I know his body is built for speed but if he thinks I'm underestimating him for being a vanilla midget, well in this case, chocolate midget, he's terribly wrong.

I mean really, I've faced opponents of all sizes and styles, small and fast, big and durable, it doesn't matter, he thinks I've never wrestled people of similar stature and size like him? Really? He needs to wise up. He'd have to be a complete idiot to think that shit. He thinks I can't react to his speed? Then it's him underestimating me. My reflexes are efficiently attuned. I saw his promo. He genuinely believes I'll have trouble with "fast moving targets", what because the opponents I've faced in the past have all just stood there and let me wail on them? He prides himself on his intelligence then well hm, maybe he could utilize it some more. I can hit him, ground him and beat him soundly and convincingly. I assure you.

Angela Yee:: You haven't got to assure us.

DJ Envy:: No sir.

Angela Yee:: He had some lyrics from Hovs "crown" track in his promo, interesting choice of lyrics.

Interesting in the fact those lyrics didn't apply to him whatsoever. They apply to Jay Z because Jay Z is arguably the king of rap. With other rappers constantly trying to take the crown off him. What is DMX the king of? What crown does he have? Please. He is the King of nothing. Nobody is trying to take his crown because he has no crown to take.

On another note I hope he had a good Birthday. Truly. I hope him and his little buddies celebrated to their hearts contents. Because after Bad Medicine, there will be no celebrations. There will be no toasts or laughter. There will be only be disappointment and anguish. He won't be getting embraced by his friends or family after this match, he'll be in the back, getting the lacerations on his body tended to by the XWF doctors. No celebrations. Just disappointment. So he should celebrate while he can. Him winning this match is a fools dream, illogical, kinda like its illogical how in his last promo he was talking in mostly perfect English but the two before that he was speaking in mostly slang.

Angela Yee:: Yeah I picked up on that too, seems to be having a bit of a personality crisis there maybe (laughs)

(laughs) Possibly, he's an self entitled "enigma" remember. Full of mysteries that kid.

:: Trio laugh collectively ::

Angela Yee:: Hilarious. Thats all we got time for now, Trax it's been good for you pop by even if it was brief .

Don't mention it, it's been good passing through.


DJ Envy:: Hey maybe we could get DMX on here next? He calls himself the freestyla among a whole bunch of other names, maybe we can get him to spit a couple of hot bars live on air?

Should get Swagmire to do the Fresh Prince of Bel Air rap live on air instead considering he looks exactly like Carlton Banks.

::Trio laugh collectively once more as the scene fades ::]]> <![CDATA[I'm The Real Deal]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20072 Fri, 22 May 2015 04:05:54 -0700 Thunderbolt Lying Asshole]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20072
Thunderbolt X- "Another match, another loss" "That puts my loss record at 8" "But its okay because everytime I lose I look at my mistakes and look to rectify them in the next match" "But I'm not here to talk about that" "I'm here to talk about my Bad Medicine match and about my opponent, Lightningbolt Z"

Thunderbolt stands up and picks up the chair. He throws the chair to the side of him making it invisible to the camera.

Thunderbolt X- "You see, I face a newbie in the name of Lightningbolt Z in a Lightning Rod match" "It is basically a four corners match, where the superstar who touches all four corners of the ring, gets to drag their opponent to the centre of the ring where a bolt of lightning will strike them on the head, possibly killing the guy" "This match started when Lightning challenged me to a match because he thought I was impersonating him" "Kirk decided to make the match, a Lightning Rod match, to determine who the real imposter is"

Thunderbolt X takes a sip of water.

Thunderbolt X- "Now if Lightningbolt Z is really the person he says he is, then he is basically a less talented, copycat version of me" "That means that we share the same skills, strengths and weaknesses" "That means Lightningbolt is able to play soccer or ice hockey, sing and rap" "……Wait a second, why don't I challenge Lightning to a rap battle right now?" "The rules are, I'll spit out a rap and then, just like the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge, you will have 24 hours to respond otherwise you automatically forfeit the challenge and show the whole world who the real imposter is"

Thunderbolt X takes another sip of water.

Thunderbolt X- "The rap must be within 7 to 24 lines otherwise you lose by disqualification" "I hope you understand the rules because even if you duck this challenge, I will still spit out a rap"

Thunderbolt X does the Wordlife sign and the spotlight, which was white, suddenly turns black. Thunderbolt X takes a final sip of water.

Thunderbolt X- "So I face a man by the name of Lighningbolt Z
Everyone think he can win but I tend to disagree.
I have heart and courage and both are on my side
Oh I almost forgot I also have my pride.
I hope to change my career and start a winning streak
I will beat your ass so badly that you will not be able to speak.
Lightning, I have a lot to prove in this match
So when I kick your weak ass, don't go asking me for a rematch.
I'm a man focused on a mission
You bring the heavy hitting and I'll bring the ammunition.
This match could be classified as the perfect Storm
I'm the underdog because of my poor form.
You may as well tell Kirk you quit
Otherwise check if the referee has a first aid kit.
It's about time I end this rap with a serious warning
Don't turn up to the match if you want to see your wife in the morning.

Thunderbolt X does the wordlife symbol as the spotlight turns to white.

Thunderbolt X- "I apologise if my rap was a little cheesy or lame, but I bet it's better then anything Lightningbolt could come up with"

Thunderbolt X pulls out his phone.

Thunderbolt X- "Another thing I do, that Lightningbolt Z doesn't do, is respond to the fans" "Now I have collected 3 random Twitter questions that I will respond to"

Thunderbolt X pulls up his gallery.

Thunderbolt X- "The first question is from Dean Hartsfield who tweets, What makes you different from Lightning Bolt Z?"

Thunderbolt grabs the chair he threw earlier and sets it up and sits down.

Thunderbolt X- "Nothing really" "I mean Lightningbolt Z is just gonna come out here and say that he can play soccer or he can play ice hockey or he can sing or he can rap" "Basically anything I say or do, he can do and in his own mind, can do better"

Thunderbolt pulls up the second Twitter question on his phone.

Thunderbolt X- "The second question comes from Bree Jackson who tweets, How do you feel about Hero Extreme 7.9 ducking your Bad Medicine challenge?"

Thunderbolt thinks about the question for a minute.

Thunderbolt X- "I feel disappointed and if I was Hero, I would feel ashamed" "He claims he is God and is not afraid of anything but when I challenge him to a 3 stages of hell match, he refuses" "He is clearly scared of me" "It's time I excate my revenge on him" "But that's beside the point"

Thunderbolt X pulls up the final Twitter question.

Thunderbolt X- "The final Twitter question is from Roman Samka who tweets, Will we ever see a tag team match with Thunderbolt X and "Loverboy" Vinnie Lane on the same team?"

Thunderbolt puts his phone in his pocket.

Thunderbolt X- "To answer this in one word, YES!!!" "I cannot wait for that match to be booked" "Vinnie has been my idol since I was growing up" "Both him and John Cena taught me to Never Give Up on your dreams and on life" "It would be an absolute honor to team with a legend like Vinnie" "Think of it as a John Cena-Hulk Hogan moment for me"

Thunderbolt X stands up and throws the chair away.

Thunderbolt X- "Well I hope I have convinced you that Lightningbolt is the imposter and I hope I answered the questions with the right answers" "So beware Lightningbolt Z because a Thunderstorm is brewing and it is about to hit"

Thunderbolt X turns off the camera and the scene fades to black.]]>
Thunderbolt X- "Another match, another loss" "That puts my loss record at 8" "But its okay because everytime I lose I look at my mistakes and look to rectify them in the next match" "But I'm not here to talk about that" "I'm here to talk about my Bad Medicine match and about my opponent, Lightningbolt Z"

Thunderbolt stands up and picks up the chair. He throws the chair to the side of him making it invisible to the camera.

Thunderbolt X- "You see, I face a newbie in the name of Lightningbolt Z in a Lightning Rod match" "It is basically a four corners match, where the superstar who touches all four corners of the ring, gets to drag their opponent to the centre of the ring where a bolt of lightning will strike them on the head, possibly killing the guy" "This match started when Lightning challenged me to a match because he thought I was impersonating him" "Kirk decided to make the match, a Lightning Rod match, to determine who the real imposter is"

Thunderbolt X takes a sip of water.

Thunderbolt X- "Now if Lightningbolt Z is really the person he says he is, then he is basically a less talented, copycat version of me" "That means that we share the same skills, strengths and weaknesses" "That means Lightningbolt is able to play soccer or ice hockey, sing and rap" "……Wait a second, why don't I challenge Lightning to a rap battle right now?" "The rules are, I'll spit out a rap and then, just like the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge, you will have 24 hours to respond otherwise you automatically forfeit the challenge and show the whole world who the real imposter is"

Thunderbolt X takes another sip of water.

Thunderbolt X- "The rap must be within 7 to 24 lines otherwise you lose by disqualification" "I hope you understand the rules because even if you duck this challenge, I will still spit out a rap"

Thunderbolt X does the Wordlife sign and the spotlight, which was white, suddenly turns black. Thunderbolt X takes a final sip of water.

Thunderbolt X- "So I face a man by the name of Lighningbolt Z
Everyone think he can win but I tend to disagree.
I have heart and courage and both are on my side
Oh I almost forgot I also have my pride.
I hope to change my career and start a winning streak
I will beat your ass so badly that you will not be able to speak.
Lightning, I have a lot to prove in this match
So when I kick your weak ass, don't go asking me for a rematch.
I'm a man focused on a mission
You bring the heavy hitting and I'll bring the ammunition.
This match could be classified as the perfect Storm
I'm the underdog because of my poor form.
You may as well tell Kirk you quit
Otherwise check if the referee has a first aid kit.
It's about time I end this rap with a serious warning
Don't turn up to the match if you want to see your wife in the morning.

Thunderbolt X does the wordlife symbol as the spotlight turns to white.

Thunderbolt X- "I apologise if my rap was a little cheesy or lame, but I bet it's better then anything Lightningbolt could come up with"

Thunderbolt X pulls out his phone.

Thunderbolt X- "Another thing I do, that Lightningbolt Z doesn't do, is respond to the fans" "Now I have collected 3 random Twitter questions that I will respond to"

Thunderbolt X pulls up his gallery.

Thunderbolt X- "The first question is from Dean Hartsfield who tweets, What makes you different from Lightning Bolt Z?"

Thunderbolt grabs the chair he threw earlier and sets it up and sits down.

Thunderbolt X- "Nothing really" "I mean Lightningbolt Z is just gonna come out here and say that he can play soccer or he can play ice hockey or he can sing or he can rap" "Basically anything I say or do, he can do and in his own mind, can do better"

Thunderbolt pulls up the second Twitter question on his phone.

Thunderbolt X- "The second question comes from Bree Jackson who tweets, How do you feel about Hero Extreme 7.9 ducking your Bad Medicine challenge?"

Thunderbolt thinks about the question for a minute.

Thunderbolt X- "I feel disappointed and if I was Hero, I would feel ashamed" "He claims he is God and is not afraid of anything but when I challenge him to a 3 stages of hell match, he refuses" "He is clearly scared of me" "It's time I excate my revenge on him" "But that's beside the point"

Thunderbolt X pulls up the final Twitter question.

Thunderbolt X- "The final Twitter question is from Roman Samka who tweets, Will we ever see a tag team match with Thunderbolt X and "Loverboy" Vinnie Lane on the same team?"

Thunderbolt puts his phone in his pocket.

Thunderbolt X- "To answer this in one word, YES!!!" "I cannot wait for that match to be booked" "Vinnie has been my idol since I was growing up" "Both him and John Cena taught me to Never Give Up on your dreams and on life" "It would be an absolute honor to team with a legend like Vinnie" "Think of it as a John Cena-Hulk Hogan moment for me"

Thunderbolt X stands up and throws the chair away.

Thunderbolt X- "Well I hope I have convinced you that Lightningbolt is the imposter and I hope I answered the questions with the right answers" "So beware Lightningbolt Z because a Thunderstorm is brewing and it is about to hit"

Thunderbolt X turns off the camera and the scene fades to black.]]> <![CDATA[Book 1: Part 4]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20071 Thu, 21 May 2015 22:48:43 -0700 The Yellow Sword]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20071 The scene opened. A yellow figure was set on a rooftop, a beacon of hope throughout Hong Kong, Japan.

Mt. Sushi loomed in the dark nightlight.

I started climbing.

I started gliding.

I started flying.

……….

I started falling.

I woke up.

“An upward movement initiated in time can counteract fate.”

That’s what my fortune cookie said last night.

---

My name is Juan Chang Lobster. This is my story.

I was born on the rough streets of Hong Kong, Japan. My parents were homeless like most the people there, even though my dad was the mayor. When I was eleven I made a house out of wood. It was so sturdy that big blow hard wolves couldn’t even blow it down. Fire, now that’s a different story…

“Excuse me, sir, but what are you doing with those matches? Arson is illegal in these parts,” said Mayor Daddy; we had just arrived at the home I built several years ago.

“Oh…I was just lighting a smoke,” the man extended his hand to my father’s. “The name’s Spirited Away.”

“Like the movie?”

“The one with Kiki and she flies on a broomstick, yes.”

“I think that’s a different one,” I chimed in, but Spirited Away just shrugged his shoulders.

My father turned to me and handed me his silver calculator. “Why don’t you get started on the taxes, son.” He then got around to shaking Spirited Away’s hand.

I was really good at math so I did the taxes really fast and got back in time to eavesdrop on them. I could only hear bits and pieces from under the floorboards, but being a spy was pretty cool. Mayor Daddy said something about never angering the Agidyne Country, but then Spirited Away started lighting candles with his fire sword and saying that he has never came across a better sword.

My mom came home from the grocery store and I think Mayor Daddy said I was doing the taxes. She started preparing the rice, and Spirited Away announced that he had general things to do and handed Mayor Daddy a scroll. He left without another word, but I met him outside the front door.

“Were you going to burn down my house?” I asked.

Spirited Away laughed and tried to look down my shirt for some reason. “No sweetie; you better get inside. It’s a little late for a young lady to be wandering around town, especially on a night like tonight.”

I buttoned up my shirt. I didn’t really need to be sporting man cleavage anyway. “I’m a boy, sir.”

“I guess I won’t rape you and shit down your throat then. Goodnight,” with that he…spirited away…get it? I figured he was joking about the rape thing, so I went inside. My eyes were immediately drawn to the scroll.

“What’s that?” I asked my father.

“It’s a scroll. You write words on it and then other people can read it.”

“What do they write about?”

“Sushi, takoyaki, noodles, rice and other foods. You know. That kind of thing.”

“So they write about food on it? What food is that one about?”

“I haven’t read it yet. I hope it’s about orange chicken. I like orange chicken. Did you finish the taxes?”

“Yes, can I re-,” however my mom finished preparing the microwavable rice and my series of questions came to an end. It was rude to talk over dinner. Then my father went into his room to practice calligraphy.

I opened my fortune cookie.

“Vision is the art of seeing what is invisible to others.”

YELLOW

YELLOW

YELLOW

YELLOW

YELLOW

YELLOW

I couldn’t see anything. I could only hear the disembodied voice say that word.

YELLOW

YELLOW

YELLOW

Then I could see something. I could see that scroll. I opened it.

“You are the yellow one.”

The yellow one? I had no idea what that meant. Then everything was

YELLOW

The scene faded to

YELLOW
]]> The scene opened. A yellow figure was set on a rooftop, a beacon of hope throughout Hong Kong, Japan.

Mt. Sushi loomed in the dark nightlight.

I started climbing.

I started gliding.

I started flying.

……….

I started falling.

I woke up.

“An upward movement initiated in time can counteract fate.”

That’s what my fortune cookie said last night.

---

My name is Juan Chang Lobster. This is my story.

I was born on the rough streets of Hong Kong, Japan. My parents were homeless like most the people there, even though my dad was the mayor. When I was eleven I made a house out of wood. It was so sturdy that big blow hard wolves couldn’t even blow it down. Fire, now that’s a different story…

“Excuse me, sir, but what are you doing with those matches? Arson is illegal in these parts,” said Mayor Daddy; we had just arrived at the home I built several years ago.

“Oh…I was just lighting a smoke,” the man extended his hand to my father’s. “The name’s Spirited Away.”

“Like the movie?”

“The one with Kiki and she flies on a broomstick, yes.”

“I think that’s a different one,” I chimed in, but Spirited Away just shrugged his shoulders.

My father turned to me and handed me his silver calculator. “Why don’t you get started on the taxes, son.” He then got around to shaking Spirited Away’s hand.

I was really good at math so I did the taxes really fast and got back in time to eavesdrop on them. I could only hear bits and pieces from under the floorboards, but being a spy was pretty cool. Mayor Daddy said something about never angering the Agidyne Country, but then Spirited Away started lighting candles with his fire sword and saying that he has never came across a better sword.

My mom came home from the grocery store and I think Mayor Daddy said I was doing the taxes. She started preparing the rice, and Spirited Away announced that he had general things to do and handed Mayor Daddy a scroll. He left without another word, but I met him outside the front door.

“Were you going to burn down my house?” I asked.

Spirited Away laughed and tried to look down my shirt for some reason. “No sweetie; you better get inside. It’s a little late for a young lady to be wandering around town, especially on a night like tonight.”

I buttoned up my shirt. I didn’t really need to be sporting man cleavage anyway. “I’m a boy, sir.”

“I guess I won’t rape you and shit down your throat then. Goodnight,” with that he…spirited away…get it? I figured he was joking about the rape thing, so I went inside. My eyes were immediately drawn to the scroll.

“What’s that?” I asked my father.

“It’s a scroll. You write words on it and then other people can read it.”

“What do they write about?”

“Sushi, takoyaki, noodles, rice and other foods. You know. That kind of thing.”

“So they write about food on it? What food is that one about?”

“I haven’t read it yet. I hope it’s about orange chicken. I like orange chicken. Did you finish the taxes?”

“Yes, can I re-,” however my mom finished preparing the microwavable rice and my series of questions came to an end. It was rude to talk over dinner. Then my father went into his room to practice calligraphy.

I opened my fortune cookie.

“Vision is the art of seeing what is invisible to others.”

YELLOW

YELLOW

YELLOW

YELLOW

YELLOW

YELLOW

I couldn’t see anything. I could only hear the disembodied voice say that word.

YELLOW

YELLOW

YELLOW

Then I could see something. I could see that scroll. I opened it.

“You are the yellow one.”

The yellow one? I had no idea what that meant. Then everything was

YELLOW

The scene faded to

YELLOW
]]> <![CDATA[Shooting Star - Nutshell]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20068 Thu, 21 May 2015 20:50:59 -0700 Doctor Louis D'Ville]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20068




                                                                                                                              


























































[Image: HoHFc0V.png?1]










[Image: XyTjvsM.png]


"My bad habits aren't my title. My strengths and talents are my title.."

― Layne Staley (8/22/1967 - 4/5/2002)


[Image: Kd641BT.png]

Is that what you want on your tombstone . . . ?


Hello, Detective . . .

Doc... It's been a long time.

Indeed, it has. Are you ready for our next session?

You're fuckin' right.

The reflection reaches behind his back and pulls a pistol out from the back of his pants. He looks at the Doctor who responds with a nod and a grin. The Ex-Detective on the floor begins to panic and pulls himself away across the floor by his elbows.

"What the fuck is going on?!!"

The reflection walks across the room and picks the Ex-Detective up by the collar and throws him towards the mirror. He stumbles forward and falls into it. Instead of the mirror toppling over and the glass shattering everywhere, the Ex-Detective falls through it and lands on the other side.

The grave site is gone and it appears that he's standing in a similar room that he originally had woken up in. His prison. He reaches out and screams at the Doctor and his reflection and pounds on the glass which now seems impenetrable. The reflection returns a smile to the Doctor and lifts the pistol eye level and aims it at the mirror.


The bullet makes a twang noise as it ricochets off the mirror and into the ceiling. The Ex-Detective jumps for a moment, but barely hesitates to try three more times.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

Each bang followed with a similar twang to follow it.

What the fuck, Lou?!

The Doctor scratches his chin a bit.

Hmm. Throw it in the fire.

The Doctor points to the large fireplace in the far side of the room, which seems to get larger and larger as the Ex-Detective drags the mirror to it. He picks the mirror up above his head as the reflection inside screams about.

"Let me go! Let me out!"

The Ex-Detective whips his arms ahead and throws the Mirror of Mastermind into the blazing fire in front of him. The Doctor and his patient watch as the fire covers the mirror.

Well done, Mister Dedntik.

The Ex-Detective accepts the compliment from the Doctor, but continues to watch the mirror closely.

Trevor?

Yeah Doc?

Welcome back, my friend.

You're an asshole.

Come now, you knew what was in store for you. We've discussed it over and ---

Over and over again. I get it, Lou. But you're still a dick.

The Doctor laughs and slowly begins to walk behind his desk to the whiskey table. He pours two drinks and walks back over to the Ex-Detective holding the two glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other.

Have a drink, friend. Let's soothe those nerves.

The Ex-Detective snatches the bottle away from the Doctor's hand and tips it back.

Very good, then.

The Doctor shares a drink with the Ex-Detective as something dawns in his head.

Oh, stop looking at the mirror.

The Ex-Detective looks at the Doctor with a confused look.

And why is that? It's not burning, you know.

Just trust me. Pay no attention to it. Let's focus on what's important here, my friend. Come with me.

The Doctor has the patient follow him across the room and to the wooden door leading outside. They exit the room and walk into a large theatre. A large white 22x52 screen stands before them with several rows of cushioned seats sit several feet back away from it.

Have a seat, my friend.

You taking me to a movie, or what, Lou?

The Doctor humors the Ex-Detective and snickers at his attempts at being humorous at a time like this. The two of them take a seat in the front row and focus on the screen as the film reel in the room behind them begins to roll and the lights dim.

Quote:Monday Madness - 9/22/14

JOEY STYLES: “Doc kicks out! My God what a match!

“Shit!

“More JR!”

Loverboy once again gets to his feet. He lifts Doc back to his and sets him up for the Vertebreaker.

JOEY STYLES: “He's going for it! If he hits the Black Label Driver, its all over!”

CRASH!

JOEY STYLES: “Doc reversed it! He hit him with the Lobotomy!”

Diesel gets on the apron as Doc gets back to his feet. Doc charges toward Diesel and sends an elbow to his face causing the big man to fall off the apron and to the floor. Doc runs back to Lane and hooks the leg.

1...
2...

3!

RING ANNOUNCER: “The winner of this match, DOCTOR LOUIS D'VILLE!”

JOEY STYLES: “He got him! What a fuckin' match! Doc takes the win!”

CRACK!

Did that big bastard just hit you with a chair after you basically beat both of their asses?

He did. Indeed.

What a cheap fuck. Wait a minute? What are they doing now?

The Ex-Detective watches the screen as Diesel hands the chair over to Vinnie Lane.

Quote:Monday Madness - 9/22/14

CRACK!

JOEY STYLES: “Over and over! Vinnie Lane is going to town on Doc D'Ville!”

Lane spikes the chair on the mat. Diesel picks up Doc, then plants him on top of the chair with the Jackknife!

JOEY STYLES: “Somebody stop this!

“Christ!

“More Jim Ross!”

Lane picks Doc up off the mat and plants him right back onto the chair with...

JOEY STYLES: “Black Label Driver! From Lane to Doc on the chair!”

Lame, Doc. Real lame.

This is what I have to deal with usually. I win, and someone is usually coming out to take me out. Of course, in this case Mister Lane and his long, lost friend did the honors themselves.

Pricks, man. I can see why you want him dead.

No, no. This is more of just an example, I suppose. You see Mister Lane's hinted to us all that I've had the easy road throughout my career around here. Contendership battle royals and title shots and chance after chance . . . It sounds to me that Mister Loverboy may just be a little distraught that someone that's stepped into the federation after him played leap frog over about twenty heads and landed on the top. I impressed the right people, am I right?

I impressed them by taking care of business, Mister Loverboy. And whether I impressed anyone or not I've earned everything I've ever had here. From the crown to the X-Treme Title to the Universal Title. I've earned it from being dominant and from being the unrelenting force that you cannot beat. I beat people to earn the things that I have. To say that I coasted through is a little much, don't you think?

As close as you came to beating me last time and as big a part as your large stupid friend played, those two things add up to a lot. I don't think you have much to talk about in regards to our last session. Imagine what it's going to be like this time, Mister Lane. Just you and I alone in the cell. No friends. No escape. All of the victories that you've accumulated in your little career mean nothing. There is NO ONE like the Doctor. You said it yourself, Vinnie, I'm once in a lifetime. There's nothing in the world like me. And you'll never face another challenger like me either. You know this. Everyone knows this. People used to jump at the chance to come and visit the Doctor. Now, my sessions fall bare minimum to once a month. It's a shame. I always looked forward to carrying on new patients. After awhile . . . It seemed I had a few reoccurring ones. The Knight. Mastermind. Mister Wallace . . . Which I have no complaints over. I'll take on anyone, anytime, my friends.

Mister Loverboy. This Sunday my reign as the Universal Champion will mark three months. That's longer than anyone has carried this title, my friend. To think all of the hard work you've put in lately could even amount to what I can bring to the table is absurd. You've never been able to stand next to me and the reason we've lost touch as of late is because you've focused on lesser things. The Hart Title, Vinnie? I know you're a fruit-cake and all and the title sort-of fits you. But let's get real here. You won the title and got a pretty dollar for doing so. Now you talk about defending your title a few times a month like it's something great. I defend the Universal Title once a month and do you know who I get as a formidable opponent? Another shout out for TJ Wallace and the Knight! Two gentlemen, that no matter the circumstances, could ever stand a chance against me. And then there's Mister Mastermind. Ohhh, Mastermind. The man's heart is what gets me. A trustworthy fellow with a heart have black and half gold. A fine person to have in your arms and an even finer opponent. Regardless. A waste of time. Could you imagine if I would defend the title twice a month? To mix it up we'd have to give every person on the roster a title shot eventually. Unless the XWF World would like to watch me kick around the likes of those threee, Vinnie Lane, Gator, and whoever else in short bi weekly cycles.

You know I have to be honest, Mister Lane.

Since my victory over you on Monday Madness all of those months ago, I'll admit, you've crossed my mind from time to time. You most certainly have. I've thought about a time in the future when, perhaps someday, the Doctor and the Loverboy would meet again. Did I know the stakes would be high? Hm. Well, I suppose I could have assumed. Figuring I'm going to be Universal Champion forever. Was I worried though? Was I concerned that YOU would be the one to end my reign? I'll put it to you this way, I always have my eyes open. I seen what progress you made in the lower ranks of the XWF, Loverboy. I knew your intentions when you entered the match for the Universal Title Number One Contenders match. I knew you'd procrastinate. It would have probably been a bit easier for you if Gator would have come back in his rematch to defeat me, wouldn't it? I'm sure you'd be a bit more at ease. Because as confident as you are, I know you're afraid. Trembling in your boots, Mister Lane. Everything you've worked for and all of this crap you've said the past week of overcoming the odds and beating the man will lay to waste. Throw it in the garbage, my friend. Because you'll be starting over. Oh, I suppose unless you defend your Hart Title against Mister Harrison. Then, you could just take over where you left off. Splendid. So no harm done. Well, besides the harm that I'm bringing to you. And the harm I've already brought you.

Don't mistake the attack from the Asylum as a sign of weakness on my part. What's the point of having an army if you can't use it? Throw you around a bit, bloody your nose maybe? You did well against them, but that's good. You managed to fight them off and then lose consciousness in the middle of the ring. Are you going to start having little seizures during our match, Vinnie? If you don't think your capable of carrying on for an hour long match, just say something and I'm sure that XWF management could work something out for you.

I always knew you were a little cunt.

And soon to be, a very disappointed little cunt.

The rock n' roll dream is over, Vinnie. It's time to face the reality that's been in the air for quite some time now. You've stared it in the face once before and you'll be doing it again. This time, you're right, the stakes are a lot higher. So, what? You'll be giving it your all this time? Spare me. I've heard the same story from so many others. You think you're ready for me? Bring it, Loverboy. The entire world has been anticipating this match and we're not going to let them down, will we? A straight hour of the Doctor, the KING, the Universal Champion pummeling his challenger into the mat. A straight hour, my friends. I promise I'll try to mix it up a bit though. I'll make sure to keep you all well entertained while I rip the Loverboy to pieces and retain my place as the Ruler of the XWF.

I hope you haven't lost focus, Mister Lane. I know you have a lot going on outside of the XWF right now between your two Malibu girlfriends and your previous injuries and such. If I was you I'd be locking those two bitches in a room together until after this weekend. You don't need any distractions or anyone sucking any testosterone from your body. You're going to need all the energy you can hold on to. Save the partying and the gang bangs for after the show. It may not be the same for a while. You won't be able to move too much and you'll be sucking your party-drinks through a straw along with three meals a day. As for your Barbie-dolls? Well, it will most certainly be a test for love, Mister Lane. How long do you think their hungry vaginas will wait for you to be able to pivot at the hips? Take it from an old man who has seen many sinful things in his day. The ones you hold the closest to you could easily throw that dagger in your back. The Doctor? He's no where near you. And when I plan on stabbing you with a dagger, I'll be sure to plant it in your chest.

The Ex-Detective rises up from the seat.

So I suppose movie time is over?

I suppose. Well, why not, one more.

Quote:Monday Madfare - 5/13/15

BLACK. LABEL. DRIVER!


LH is out cold! Lane finds his belt amongst the wreckage of bodies and raises it above his head. Dim comes back and Lane drops him like a bad habit with a title shot!

Lane hobbles over to LH and places his boot across the chest of LH as he holds the title up. Doc looks a little concerned for the first time… well ever.

Lane’s eyes roll back into his head as he falls to the mat backwards. Referees converge on the scene and try to revive Lane, but he’s passed out!

Doctor D’Ville is standing on the entrance ramp just smiling with a large toothy grin. He begins laughing demonically as the lights and show dim and come to a close.

See you soon, Mr. Lane.

Lane kinda kicked ass back there. Well, until he fainted.

He did over exert himself a bit, didn't he?

You think you can take 'em then, Lou?

I've proved to the world once before that I can.

Yeah, yeah. I heard ya. You've been the champ for a while, huh?

Three months, this weekend.

Nice. Any cases out there?

Yes, a few. I wouldn't concern myself with too many of them though.

So, there is?

There could be a cash-in. Bruce Blingsteen has been the X-Treme Champion for over six weeks.

So, on top of fighting that asshole for an hour, you have to worry about some other asshole coming in afterward and challenging you?

Well, yes, much like I did when I became Universal Champion. You see, there's a difference between the two fellows in the Universal Title match and the person that was cashing-in. They weren't ready for the Doctor to come out of the shadows and stake his claim. The Higher Power was revealed and the XWF World shifted in a single night. After proving to the world that I am the most powerful being to ever grace the mat here in the XWF, but I have the prize to go along with it. I've taken criticism for the way I went about getting the title. People said that I was 'better than a cash-in'. I'm 'better' than a lot of things. It wasn't about winning the Universal Title that night, folks. It was about keeping it from Gator. The ultimate redemption. Then I followed on and proved that it belonged with me by defeating Gator for it once and for all. Are you prepared to back that up, Mister Blingsteen? Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against the cash-in. Hell, if I was you I'd cash-in on Mister Lane during his Hart Title match and leave him with NOTHING at the end of the night. Now THAT would be grand. But, like I said if you do decide to come after me, I'll be ready. If you manage to overcome the odds and take down a battered Doctor, that doesn't make you the best. It only makes you smart. Go stay at a Holiday Inn Express that night, too. The best will be coming back after you soon after. Of course, that's only if we even get that far. If I do have to defend my title twice, I do plan on walking away with the Universal Champion. I've set a few records around this place as of late. I'm not sure if anyone has ever defended a cash-in, sounds like something I'd do.

The Ex-Detective grows uncomfortable in the seats and rises up. He pulls a cigarette from his inside pocket and begins puffing away.

The Doctor slowly rises from his seat as well and motions for the Ex-Detective to follow him.

Let's head back and check on our magic mirror.

The Doctor and his patient exit the small theater through the entrance from which they came and step back into the Doctor's office. Much to their surprise, the Mirror of Mastermind is no longer lying and burning in the fire, it is standing upright in front of the Doctor's desk.

What the fuck?

Interesting . . .


]]>




                                                                                                                              


























































[Image: HoHFc0V.png?1]










[Image: XyTjvsM.png]


"My bad habits aren't my title. My strengths and talents are my title.."

― Layne Staley (8/22/1967 - 4/5/2002)


[Image: Kd641BT.png]

Is that what you want on your tombstone . . . ?


Hello, Detective . . .

Doc... It's been a long time.

Indeed, it has. Are you ready for our next session?

You're fuckin' right.

The reflection reaches behind his back and pulls a pistol out from the back of his pants. He looks at the Doctor who responds with a nod and a grin. The Ex-Detective on the floor begins to panic and pulls himself away across the floor by his elbows.

"What the fuck is going on?!!"

The reflection walks across the room and picks the Ex-Detective up by the collar and throws him towards the mirror. He stumbles forward and falls into it. Instead of the mirror toppling over and the glass shattering everywhere, the Ex-Detective falls through it and lands on the other side.

The grave site is gone and it appears that he's standing in a similar room that he originally had woken up in. His prison. He reaches out and screams at the Doctor and his reflection and pounds on the glass which now seems impenetrable. The reflection returns a smile to the Doctor and lifts the pistol eye level and aims it at the mirror.


The bullet makes a twang noise as it ricochets off the mirror and into the ceiling. The Ex-Detective jumps for a moment, but barely hesitates to try three more times.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

Each bang followed with a similar twang to follow it.

What the fuck, Lou?!

The Doctor scratches his chin a bit.

Hmm. Throw it in the fire.

The Doctor points to the large fireplace in the far side of the room, which seems to get larger and larger as the Ex-Detective drags the mirror to it. He picks the mirror up above his head as the reflection inside screams about.

"Let me go! Let me out!"

The Ex-Detective whips his arms ahead and throws the Mirror of Mastermind into the blazing fire in front of him. The Doctor and his patient watch as the fire covers the mirror.

Well done, Mister Dedntik.

The Ex-Detective accepts the compliment from the Doctor, but continues to watch the mirror closely.

Trevor?

Yeah Doc?

Welcome back, my friend.

You're an asshole.

Come now, you knew what was in store for you. We've discussed it over and ---

Over and over again. I get it, Lou. But you're still a dick.

The Doctor laughs and slowly begins to walk behind his desk to the whiskey table. He pours two drinks and walks back over to the Ex-Detective holding the two glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other.

Have a drink, friend. Let's soothe those nerves.

The Ex-Detective snatches the bottle away from the Doctor's hand and tips it back.

Very good, then.

The Doctor shares a drink with the Ex-Detective as something dawns in his head.

Oh, stop looking at the mirror.

The Ex-Detective looks at the Doctor with a confused look.

And why is that? It's not burning, you know.

Just trust me. Pay no attention to it. Let's focus on what's important here, my friend. Come with me.

The Doctor has the patient follow him across the room and to the wooden door leading outside. They exit the room and walk into a large theatre. A large white 22x52 screen stands before them with several rows of cushioned seats sit several feet back away from it.

Have a seat, my friend.

You taking me to a movie, or what, Lou?

The Doctor humors the Ex-Detective and snickers at his attempts at being humorous at a time like this. The two of them take a seat in the front row and focus on the screen as the film reel in the room behind them begins to roll and the lights dim.

Quote:Monday Madness - 9/22/14

JOEY STYLES: “Doc kicks out! My God what a match!

“Shit!

“More JR!”

Loverboy once again gets to his feet. He lifts Doc back to his and sets him up for the Vertebreaker.

JOEY STYLES: “He's going for it! If he hits the Black Label Driver, its all over!”

CRASH!

JOEY STYLES: “Doc reversed it! He hit him with the Lobotomy!”

Diesel gets on the apron as Doc gets back to his feet. Doc charges toward Diesel and sends an elbow to his face causing the big man to fall off the apron and to the floor. Doc runs back to Lane and hooks the leg.

1...
2...

3!

RING ANNOUNCER: “The winner of this match, DOCTOR LOUIS D'VILLE!”

JOEY STYLES: “He got him! What a fuckin' match! Doc takes the win!”

CRACK!

Did that big bastard just hit you with a chair after you basically beat both of their asses?

He did. Indeed.

What a cheap fuck. Wait a minute? What are they doing now?

The Ex-Detective watches the screen as Diesel hands the chair over to Vinnie Lane.

Quote:Monday Madness - 9/22/14

CRACK!

JOEY STYLES: “Over and over! Vinnie Lane is going to town on Doc D'Ville!”

Lane spikes the chair on the mat. Diesel picks up Doc, then plants him on top of the chair with the Jackknife!

JOEY STYLES: “Somebody stop this!

“Christ!

“More Jim Ross!”

Lane picks Doc up off the mat and plants him right back onto the chair with...

JOEY STYLES: “Black Label Driver! From Lane to Doc on the chair!”

Lame, Doc. Real lame.

This is what I have to deal with usually. I win, and someone is usually coming out to take me out. Of course, in this case Mister Lane and his long, lost friend did the honors themselves.

Pricks, man. I can see why you want him dead.

No, no. This is more of just an example, I suppose. You see Mister Lane's hinted to us all that I've had the easy road throughout my career around here. Contendership battle royals and title shots and chance after chance . . . It sounds to me that Mister Loverboy may just be a little distraught that someone that's stepped into the federation after him played leap frog over about twenty heads and landed on the top. I impressed the right people, am I right?

I impressed them by taking care of business, Mister Loverboy. And whether I impressed anyone or not I've earned everything I've ever had here. From the crown to the X-Treme Title to the Universal Title. I've earned it from being dominant and from being the unrelenting force that you cannot beat. I beat people to earn the things that I have. To say that I coasted through is a little much, don't you think?

As close as you came to beating me last time and as big a part as your large stupid friend played, those two things add up to a lot. I don't think you have much to talk about in regards to our last session. Imagine what it's going to be like this time, Mister Lane. Just you and I alone in the cell. No friends. No escape. All of the victories that you've accumulated in your little career mean nothing. There is NO ONE like the Doctor. You said it yourself, Vinnie, I'm once in a lifetime. There's nothing in the world like me. And you'll never face another challenger like me either. You know this. Everyone knows this. People used to jump at the chance to come and visit the Doctor. Now, my sessions fall bare minimum to once a month. It's a shame. I always looked forward to carrying on new patients. After awhile . . . It seemed I had a few reoccurring ones. The Knight. Mastermind. Mister Wallace . . . Which I have no complaints over. I'll take on anyone, anytime, my friends.

Mister Loverboy. This Sunday my reign as the Universal Champion will mark three months. That's longer than anyone has carried this title, my friend. To think all of the hard work you've put in lately could even amount to what I can bring to the table is absurd. You've never been able to stand next to me and the reason we've lost touch as of late is because you've focused on lesser things. The Hart Title, Vinnie? I know you're a fruit-cake and all and the title sort-of fits you. But let's get real here. You won the title and got a pretty dollar for doing so. Now you talk about defending your title a few times a month like it's something great. I defend the Universal Title once a month and do you know who I get as a formidable opponent? Another shout out for TJ Wallace and the Knight! Two gentlemen, that no matter the circumstances, could ever stand a chance against me. And then there's Mister Mastermind. Ohhh, Mastermind. The man's heart is what gets me. A trustworthy fellow with a heart have black and half gold. A fine person to have in your arms and an even finer opponent. Regardless. A waste of time. Could you imagine if I would defend the title twice a month? To mix it up we'd have to give every person on the roster a title shot eventually. Unless the XWF World would like to watch me kick around the likes of those threee, Vinnie Lane, Gator, and whoever else in short bi weekly cycles.

You know I have to be honest, Mister Lane.

Since my victory over you on Monday Madness all of those months ago, I'll admit, you've crossed my mind from time to time. You most certainly have. I've thought about a time in the future when, perhaps someday, the Doctor and the Loverboy would meet again. Did I know the stakes would be high? Hm. Well, I suppose I could have assumed. Figuring I'm going to be Universal Champion forever. Was I worried though? Was I concerned that YOU would be the one to end my reign? I'll put it to you this way, I always have my eyes open. I seen what progress you made in the lower ranks of the XWF, Loverboy. I knew your intentions when you entered the match for the Universal Title Number One Contenders match. I knew you'd procrastinate. It would have probably been a bit easier for you if Gator would have come back in his rematch to defeat me, wouldn't it? I'm sure you'd be a bit more at ease. Because as confident as you are, I know you're afraid. Trembling in your boots, Mister Lane. Everything you've worked for and all of this crap you've said the past week of overcoming the odds and beating the man will lay to waste. Throw it in the garbage, my friend. Because you'll be starting over. Oh, I suppose unless you defend your Hart Title against Mister Harrison. Then, you could just take over where you left off. Splendid. So no harm done. Well, besides the harm that I'm bringing to you. And the harm I've already brought you.

Don't mistake the attack from the Asylum as a sign of weakness on my part. What's the point of having an army if you can't use it? Throw you around a bit, bloody your nose maybe? You did well against them, but that's good. You managed to fight them off and then lose consciousness in the middle of the ring. Are you going to start having little seizures during our match, Vinnie? If you don't think your capable of carrying on for an hour long match, just say something and I'm sure that XWF management could work something out for you.

I always knew you were a little cunt.

And soon to be, a very disappointed little cunt.

The rock n' roll dream is over, Vinnie. It's time to face the reality that's been in the air for quite some time now. You've stared it in the face once before and you'll be doing it again. This time, you're right, the stakes are a lot higher. So, what? You'll be giving it your all this time? Spare me. I've heard the same story from so many others. You think you're ready for me? Bring it, Loverboy. The entire world has been anticipating this match and we're not going to let them down, will we? A straight hour of the Doctor, the KING, the Universal Champion pummeling his challenger into the mat. A straight hour, my friends. I promise I'll try to mix it up a bit though. I'll make sure to keep you all well entertained while I rip the Loverboy to pieces and retain my place as the Ruler of the XWF.

I hope you haven't lost focus, Mister Lane. I know you have a lot going on outside of the XWF right now between your two Malibu girlfriends and your previous injuries and such. If I was you I'd be locking those two bitches in a room together until after this weekend. You don't need any distractions or anyone sucking any testosterone from your body. You're going to need all the energy you can hold on to. Save the partying and the gang bangs for after the show. It may not be the same for a while. You won't be able to move too much and you'll be sucking your party-drinks through a straw along with three meals a day. As for your Barbie-dolls? Well, it will most certainly be a test for love, Mister Lane. How long do you think their hungry vaginas will wait for you to be able to pivot at the hips? Take it from an old man who has seen many sinful things in his day. The ones you hold the closest to you could easily throw that dagger in your back. The Doctor? He's no where near you. And when I plan on stabbing you with a dagger, I'll be sure to plant it in your chest.

The Ex-Detective rises up from the seat.

So I suppose movie time is over?

I suppose. Well, why not, one more.

Quote:Monday Madfare - 5/13/15

BLACK. LABEL. DRIVER!


LH is out cold! Lane finds his belt amongst the wreckage of bodies and raises it above his head. Dim comes back and Lane drops him like a bad habit with a title shot!

Lane hobbles over to LH and places his boot across the chest of LH as he holds the title up. Doc looks a little concerned for the first time… well ever.

Lane’s eyes roll back into his head as he falls to the mat backwards. Referees converge on the scene and try to revive Lane, but he’s passed out!

Doctor D’Ville is standing on the entrance ramp just smiling with a large toothy grin. He begins laughing demonically as the lights and show dim and come to a close.

See you soon, Mr. Lane.

Lane kinda kicked ass back there. Well, until he fainted.

He did over exert himself a bit, didn't he?

You think you can take 'em then, Lou?

I've proved to the world once before that I can.

Yeah, yeah. I heard ya. You've been the champ for a while, huh?

Three months, this weekend.

Nice. Any cases out there?

Yes, a few. I wouldn't concern myself with too many of them though.

So, there is?

There could be a cash-in. Bruce Blingsteen has been the X-Treme Champion for over six weeks.

So, on top of fighting that asshole for an hour, you have to worry about some other asshole coming in afterward and challenging you?

Well, yes, much like I did when I became Universal Champion. You see, there's a difference between the two fellows in the Universal Title match and the person that was cashing-in. They weren't ready for the Doctor to come out of the shadows and stake his claim. The Higher Power was revealed and the XWF World shifted in a single night. After proving to the world that I am the most powerful being to ever grace the mat here in the XWF, but I have the prize to go along with it. I've taken criticism for the way I went about getting the title. People said that I was 'better than a cash-in'. I'm 'better' than a lot of things. It wasn't about winning the Universal Title that night, folks. It was about keeping it from Gator. The ultimate redemption. Then I followed on and proved that it belonged with me by defeating Gator for it once and for all. Are you prepared to back that up, Mister Blingsteen? Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against the cash-in. Hell, if I was you I'd cash-in on Mister Lane during his Hart Title match and leave him with NOTHING at the end of the night. Now THAT would be grand. But, like I said if you do decide to come after me, I'll be ready. If you manage to overcome the odds and take down a battered Doctor, that doesn't make you the best. It only makes you smart. Go stay at a Holiday Inn Express that night, too. The best will be coming back after you soon after. Of course, that's only if we even get that far. If I do have to defend my title twice, I do plan on walking away with the Universal Champion. I've set a few records around this place as of late. I'm not sure if anyone has ever defended a cash-in, sounds like something I'd do.

The Ex-Detective grows uncomfortable in the seats and rises up. He pulls a cigarette from his inside pocket and begins puffing away.

The Doctor slowly rises from his seat as well and motions for the Ex-Detective to follow him.

Let's head back and check on our magic mirror.

The Doctor and his patient exit the small theater through the entrance from which they came and step back into the Doctor's office. Much to their surprise, the Mirror of Mastermind is no longer lying and burning in the fire, it is standing upright in front of the Doctor's desk.

What the fuck?

Interesting . . .


]]> <![CDATA[Come on you punks!]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20065 Thu, 21 May 2015 17:52:59 -0700 Marek Matthews]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20065
I remember when I was just a little boy, I always wanted to be a wrestler, and now I am doing that. I am finally living the dream. I am rich as hell and I am strong as hell. I will rip all your heads off. I will show the wrestling world what I can do. I have been waiting for this my whole life and it's finally happening. You guys better be afraid. You might as well not bother stepping into the ring with me because straight up, you're not going to win. Outsider Joel, you say you've been eyeing the Federweight championship since you nearly captured it, well guess what Outsider Joel, that's as close as you're going to get to it. You won't be able to get to touch that belt because it is going around my waist.

Outsider Joel, you better realize what is going to happen to you this Sunday at Bad Medicine. I'm going to break every single bone in your body. I am going to make an example out of you and show the wrestling world why I am the very best. Everyone will know me but don't you worry, they'll know you too. They'll know you as the guy that Marek Matthews destroyed in the pre show match at the pay per view. Outsider Joel, you may be fast and quick in the ring, but that won't do you any good. You can run but you can't hide. I will get you in that ring, in that squared circle. You may be a great competitor, but you're not as good as Marek Matthews and that's just the way it is.]]>
I remember when I was just a little boy, I always wanted to be a wrestler, and now I am doing that. I am finally living the dream. I am rich as hell and I am strong as hell. I will rip all your heads off. I will show the wrestling world what I can do. I have been waiting for this my whole life and it's finally happening. You guys better be afraid. You might as well not bother stepping into the ring with me because straight up, you're not going to win. Outsider Joel, you say you've been eyeing the Federweight championship since you nearly captured it, well guess what Outsider Joel, that's as close as you're going to get to it. You won't be able to get to touch that belt because it is going around my waist.

Outsider Joel, you better realize what is going to happen to you this Sunday at Bad Medicine. I'm going to break every single bone in your body. I am going to make an example out of you and show the wrestling world why I am the very best. Everyone will know me but don't you worry, they'll know you too. They'll know you as the guy that Marek Matthews destroyed in the pre show match at the pay per view. Outsider Joel, you may be fast and quick in the ring, but that won't do you any good. You can run but you can't hide. I will get you in that ring, in that squared circle. You may be a great competitor, but you're not as good as Marek Matthews and that's just the way it is.]]> <![CDATA[Team Gilmour is exactly like Fans]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20050 Thu, 21 May 2015 01:43:48 -0700 Mastermind]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20050 SATURDAY MAY 9TH 2015

WATCHING RUGBY LEAGUE - AUSTRALIAN NRL

GAME BETWEEN NEW ZEALAND WARRIORS VS CRONULLA SUTHERLAND SHARKS
[video=youtube]www.youtube.com/watch?v=COPGC_tqK04[/video]

I'm taking a break as I prepare for Wednesday Night Madfare and my number 1 contenders match against L H Harrison for the Hart Championship. I've made it to my hotel in Cincinnati, Ohio. And I'm on my lap top managing to find a link to watch one of my favorite Rugby League teams and that's the New Zealand Warriors. The only New Zealand Rugby league team in the Australian Rugby League Competition. It is the most toughest League competition in the world, just for clubs.

I have to admit that I'm a Rugby fan at heart, but at the moment I am just interested in the All Blacks New Zealand National team. Not interested in the Super 15 Provincial competition. The All Blacks don't play until July.

So that is why I am watching Rugby League. My third favorite team of all time. The New Zealand Warriors. In any sport. After the All Blacks, and the Otago Highlanders Rugby Union Super 15 team.

So I'm sitting down watching the New Zealand Warriors, and hoping that after 8 rounds with a 3 Win 5 Loss record that they are going to turn their season around. They can't afford to have their 3rd loss in a row.

And there we are within the last 10 minutes of the game we are 14-16 down. The team is in trouble. They have just had a try scored against them, and looking out on their feet. When the above play happens.

(Ryan Hoffman with the charge down)

"Awesome Hoffy that's what we needed, maybe this can set something up."

(Cronulla Fullback Ben Barba with the tackle to bring Hoffman down.)

"That's it Hoffy take the tackle, one of our most experienced players knows what he's doing, and surely can't fuck that up. Set things up guys. Don't fuck this up."

(Chad Townsend the #6 races into dummy half and sends the ball onto the #16. Who then sends the ball onto our captain Simon Mannering at #13, who then gives it to Shaun Johnson the #7.)

"Please god, don't let them drop the ball on this one. Come on Johnson you were great in the Test match last week, do something sensational this week, please."

(Johnson steps and weaves past 4 Sharks Players.)

"He's trying something. Go Johnson go."

(Johnson steps in field and runs past 4 other Sharks Players to score. Without a hand laid on him.)

"Johnson.... Johnson.... Johnson.... Johnson... Johnson... JOHNSON............... Wow what a try. What a fantastic try that only Shaun Johnson can pull off when he's on fire. Give the kid props. What a fucking great try that sees us home."

COMMENTATOR: "This is incredible... .This is ridiculous... This is 15 out of 10 on the incredible meter." )

"You said it Dude, you oh so said it."


SATURDAY MAY 16TH 2015

WATCHING RUGBY LEAGUE - AUSTRALIAN NRL FROM MY HOME IN WELLINGTON, NEW ZEALAND

GAME BETWEEN NEW ZEALAND WARRIORS VS PARRAMATTA EELS


I am sitting in my specially built Man Cave in my mansion watching the New Zealand Warriors rugby league team taking on the Parramatta Eels in Round 10 of the NRL. After last week last minute win, surely it wouldn't go down to the wire again?

But that doesn't mean a thing when you're supporting the New Zealand Warriors. In their 20 year history they either do four things. Win well, lose badly, win in the last ten minutes, or lose in the last ten minutes. Either way it's a watch on the edge of your seat kind of thing.

They start off well going out to a 12 nil lead, before the Eels pull it back to be at 12-4 down at Halftime. Then as usual the Warriors fade out, and the Eels go level at 12 all with 10 minutes to go. They should be leading 18-12. But all their conversions missed.

Then with 5 minutes to go our #6 Chad Townsend kicks a one point field goal to get us out to 13-12. That should be enough, but then in the last minute, their #7, slots a field goal of his own to level the scores at 13 all. The game ends in a tie, but as is tradition in the NRL, the game will have a 10 Minute Gold Point extra time. Which means the team that either kick a field goal or score a try first in that ten minutes will win the game. If not, then it'll be a draw. And I'm sitting here thinking:

"Shit we don't have very many golden point time chances lately. We haven't had one for a few years. But the last few we played in we lost. Shit great."

Both sides had early pot shots at nailing a field goal early in the side, the Warriors first, then the Eels second but both attempts sailed wide. I was on the edge of my seat all ready. And then in the last minute of the first half of extra time, it happened:

(Captain Simon Mannering the #13 runs it up, and is tackled. The Dummy Half #9, Nathan Friend passes it to Johnson, who then passes it to Fullback #1, Tuimoala Lolohea.)

"Please guys find some space. What's Johnson doing passing it.?"

(Tui manages to step and find some space, and opens that side of the field up, before being tackled.)

"What are you doing Tui? That looks like a mess, what a waste of a tackle."

(The ball is given to Bodene Thompson. Thompson runs forward in a gap.)

"Go Thompson go."

(Suddenly opponents converge on Bodene, and Bodene lunges for the line, carrying about 3 players across the line.)

"Wahoooooooooooooooooooooo looks like we did it again, Bodene Thompson scores the match winner and we escape with a win. Wahoooooooooooo."

Before I know it, the referee sends the play up to the Video Referee for judgement, it clearly looks like a try, but they spend a good few minutes looking at it and looking at it, and looking at it, before giving it the green light.

"Yes we win again, get out of jail, for the second week in a row. Wahoo."


Now you all may be wondering what is watching Rugby League or any sports team game got to do with my match coming up at Bad Medicine. Well I can tell you it has everything to do with it. As I'm the leader of Team Mastermind, I need to install confidence in the rest of my team, that if we work well as a team, then we can come back from anything that would be thrown at us by Team Gilmour. They aren't working as a team, so if we were ever facing being in trouble, we can come from behind and win. Win by any means necessary.


[video=youtube]www.youtube.com/watch?v=vkmlujV-TvU[/video]


[Image: turbine_1408289c.jpg]

"Here's a question. What is the difference between Team Gilmour and a line of Turbine's in the country side. The turbines use wind to make power, whilst Team Gilmour just throws out hot air, because they talk too much.

"And speaking of hot air, we heard some more of it coming from Peter Gilmour in the last 24 hours. He actually became the copy cat and told us a story, after I spoke of several stories, he decided to put one out. What a doosh bag he is. He tries to be original but has to copy what others have been doing.

"So let's get into doing some more back and forth debating. There's only a couple of more days left before Bad Medicine begins, but I'd thought I'd get another promo out early because it's fun tearing Peter apart. So let's get going."

Peter Said:you must really think my team are idiots

"No, no, no, Peter, I don't think your team are idiots. I KNOW your team are idiots."

Confused Peter Said:because you chose horrible partners

"Let's get one thing straight Peter, and I think you are in la la land, I DID NOT choose my partners. I'll say that again slowly for you Mr. Confused. I.... DID.... NOT.... CHOOSE.... MY... PARTNERS. Nor did you, we got given them. I don't think my team mates are horrible. The fact that we haven't hear from Rellik yet, is a bit worrisome, but Yellow Sword and I are doing quite fine. But you, Peter, and your team are in total disarray. Need I say more? No I've already said it."

Peter Said:You talk about our Thunderdome match where you somehow pinned me even though it was Tommy Gunn who fucked up the entire match with his stupid gun distracting me and allowing you to pin me. You see Mastermind, you can claim you beat me but you had help.

"Peter, Peter, Peter, when are you going to wake up and smell the roses? It's in the history books as a win. It doesn't matter what happened, and how it happened, because I still pinned you. 1... 2.. 3. I still won. And you still lost. But you need to do something for me, it's some advice that I gave to the great Sebastian Duke. Peter, build a fucking bridge and get over it. And I have the materials for you to do that literally."

[Image: stone77-4.gif]

[Image: stone77-7.gif]

[Image: stone77-8.gif]

[Image: stone77-10.gif]

"So Pete, if you follow all those instructions, the bridge should come out like this:"

[Image: stone77-11.jpg]

"So I implore you to build that bridge, and get the fuck over it. Because every time we meet, do we have to listen to your so called pity party saying that you lost to me because I had help. If I can't help you no one can. Not even yourself."

Peter Said:You said that when we fought you didn’t talk about my weight. Highly doubt that because you knew you would of said something stupid about it if given the chance.

"Well, seen that you won't go do any research because I clearly said that you should, I decided to give your lazy fat ass a rest and do the research for you. Coming up are all four promos that I used for my week heading up to the Thunderdome match, if you click on the links, you can clearly see that I did not speak about your weight at all. Go on give it a click. I dare you too. I dare you. In fact after the match you said to me, no you thanked me in private that I did not use the subject of your weight at all through out the week, and you took that under consideration."

Promo #1

Promo #2

Promo #3

Promo #4

Peter Said:And the funniest thing you said in your promo was that you “own me”. YOU?! HA! One little fluke win over me and you “OWN ME”. Wow, you really are a fuckin’ . Nobody has ever owned me in my entire career and never will.

Mastermind held up the t-shirt:

T-shirt Said:I

MASTERED

PETER
GILMOUR'S

MIND

"Do your remember this Peter? I sent you your shirt, until you can beat me one on one it means I OWN YOU. That's a fact. So come on Mr Gilmour, challenge me to a rematch and get your pride back. It obviously hurts you that I beat you. I OWN YOU and will continue to do so, until you beat me. It is you who is a if you can't get that through your mind."

Peter the so called Man Gilmour Said:But I digress. Mastermind, you can come out here and bash my teammates and say we’re not on the same page. Now Ray Tings did say some harsh shit about me and Ray no offense but I meant no harm in saying your name was horrible. In fact, I find it humorous. But Ray, I don’t PANDER to the fans or to anyone. And saying I’m a JOHN CENA wannabe? Fuck that motherfucker. I was a special guest on RAW and when he saw me, he literally shit his pants. Then I showed him why he is such a stale piece of shit and I gave him the GILLY BOMB and left him lying on the mat. That is exactly what I’m going to do to you and your teammates this Saturday night at Bad Medicine. I will leave all of you lying in a pool of your own blood.

"You so contradict yourself Peter it's not even funny. Do you see Team Mastermind imploding? No way dude. We are one. Not like Team Gilmour who are exploding because no one likes what the other person is saying. You guys continue to explode. We will just feast on the left overs.

"I think I've said quite enough for one promo. You've given me plenty of ammo. It is what it is. This Saturday Night you guys are going down. Team Mastermind will be victorious. And that's the way the cookie crumbles, so stick that in your pipe and smoke it."

Mastermind starts laughing as the camera fades out.]]> SATURDAY MAY 9TH 2015

WATCHING RUGBY LEAGUE - AUSTRALIAN NRL

GAME BETWEEN NEW ZEALAND WARRIORS VS CRONULLA SUTHERLAND SHARKS
[video=youtube]www.youtube.com/watch?v=COPGC_tqK04[/video]

I'm taking a break as I prepare for Wednesday Night Madfare and my number 1 contenders match against L H Harrison for the Hart Championship. I've made it to my hotel in Cincinnati, Ohio. And I'm on my lap top managing to find a link to watch one of my favorite Rugby League teams and that's the New Zealand Warriors. The only New Zealand Rugby league team in the Australian Rugby League Competition. It is the most toughest League competition in the world, just for clubs.

I have to admit that I'm a Rugby fan at heart, but at the moment I am just interested in the All Blacks New Zealand National team. Not interested in the Super 15 Provincial competition. The All Blacks don't play until July.

So that is why I am watching Rugby League. My third favorite team of all time. The New Zealand Warriors. In any sport. After the All Blacks, and the Otago Highlanders Rugby Union Super 15 team.

So I'm sitting down watching the New Zealand Warriors, and hoping that after 8 rounds with a 3 Win 5 Loss record that they are going to turn their season around. They can't afford to have their 3rd loss in a row.

And there we are within the last 10 minutes of the game we are 14-16 down. The team is in trouble. They have just had a try scored against them, and looking out on their feet. When the above play happens.

(Ryan Hoffman with the charge down)

"Awesome Hoffy that's what we needed, maybe this can set something up."

(Cronulla Fullback Ben Barba with the tackle to bring Hoffman down.)

"That's it Hoffy take the tackle, one of our most experienced players knows what he's doing, and surely can't fuck that up. Set things up guys. Don't fuck this up."

(Chad Townsend the #6 races into dummy half and sends the ball onto the #16. Who then sends the ball onto our captain Simon Mannering at #13, who then gives it to Shaun Johnson the #7.)

"Please god, don't let them drop the ball on this one. Come on Johnson you were great in the Test match last week, do something sensational this week, please."

(Johnson steps and weaves past 4 Sharks Players.)

"He's trying something. Go Johnson go."

(Johnson steps in field and runs past 4 other Sharks Players to score. Without a hand laid on him.)

"Johnson.... Johnson.... Johnson.... Johnson... Johnson... JOHNSON............... Wow what a try. What a fantastic try that only Shaun Johnson can pull off when he's on fire. Give the kid props. What a fucking great try that sees us home."

COMMENTATOR: "This is incredible... .This is ridiculous... This is 15 out of 10 on the incredible meter." )

"You said it Dude, you oh so said it."


SATURDAY MAY 16TH 2015

WATCHING RUGBY LEAGUE - AUSTRALIAN NRL FROM MY HOME IN WELLINGTON, NEW ZEALAND

GAME BETWEEN NEW ZEALAND WARRIORS VS PARRAMATTA EELS


I am sitting in my specially built Man Cave in my mansion watching the New Zealand Warriors rugby league team taking on the Parramatta Eels in Round 10 of the NRL. After last week last minute win, surely it wouldn't go down to the wire again?

But that doesn't mean a thing when you're supporting the New Zealand Warriors. In their 20 year history they either do four things. Win well, lose badly, win in the last ten minutes, or lose in the last ten minutes. Either way it's a watch on the edge of your seat kind of thing.

They start off well going out to a 12 nil lead, before the Eels pull it back to be at 12-4 down at Halftime. Then as usual the Warriors fade out, and the Eels go level at 12 all with 10 minutes to go. They should be leading 18-12. But all their conversions missed.

Then with 5 minutes to go our #6 Chad Townsend kicks a one point field goal to get us out to 13-12. That should be enough, but then in the last minute, their #7, slots a field goal of his own to level the scores at 13 all. The game ends in a tie, but as is tradition in the NRL, the game will have a 10 Minute Gold Point extra time. Which means the team that either kick a field goal or score a try first in that ten minutes will win the game. If not, then it'll be a draw. And I'm sitting here thinking:

"Shit we don't have very many golden point time chances lately. We haven't had one for a few years. But the last few we played in we lost. Shit great."

Both sides had early pot shots at nailing a field goal early in the side, the Warriors first, then the Eels second but both attempts sailed wide. I was on the edge of my seat all ready. And then in the last minute of the first half of extra time, it happened:

(Captain Simon Mannering the #13 runs it up, and is tackled. The Dummy Half #9, Nathan Friend passes it to Johnson, who then passes it to Fullback #1, Tuimoala Lolohea.)

"Please guys find some space. What's Johnson doing passing it.?"

(Tui manages to step and find some space, and opens that side of the field up, before being tackled.)

"What are you doing Tui? That looks like a mess, what a waste of a tackle."

(The ball is given to Bodene Thompson. Thompson runs forward in a gap.)

"Go Thompson go."

(Suddenly opponents converge on Bodene, and Bodene lunges for the line, carrying about 3 players across the line.)

"Wahoooooooooooooooooooooo looks like we did it again, Bodene Thompson scores the match winner and we escape with a win. Wahoooooooooooo."

Before I know it, the referee sends the play up to the Video Referee for judgement, it clearly looks like a try, but they spend a good few minutes looking at it and looking at it, and looking at it, before giving it the green light.

"Yes we win again, get out of jail, for the second week in a row. Wahoo."


Now you all may be wondering what is watching Rugby League or any sports team game got to do with my match coming up at Bad Medicine. Well I can tell you it has everything to do with it. As I'm the leader of Team Mastermind, I need to install confidence in the rest of my team, that if we work well as a team, then we can come back from anything that would be thrown at us by Team Gilmour. They aren't working as a team, so if we were ever facing being in trouble, we can come from behind and win. Win by any means necessary.


[video=youtube]www.youtube.com/watch?v=vkmlujV-TvU[/video]


[Image: turbine_1408289c.jpg]

"Here's a question. What is the difference between Team Gilmour and a line of Turbine's in the country side. The turbines use wind to make power, whilst Team Gilmour just throws out hot air, because they talk too much.

"And speaking of hot air, we heard some more of it coming from Peter Gilmour in the last 24 hours. He actually became the copy cat and told us a story, after I spoke of several stories, he decided to put one out. What a doosh bag he is. He tries to be original but has to copy what others have been doing.

"So let's get into doing some more back and forth debating. There's only a couple of more days left before Bad Medicine begins, but I'd thought I'd get another promo out early because it's fun tearing Peter apart. So let's get going."

Peter Said:you must really think my team are idiots

"No, no, no, Peter, I don't think your team are idiots. I KNOW your team are idiots."

Confused Peter Said:because you chose horrible partners

"Let's get one thing straight Peter, and I think you are in la la land, I DID NOT choose my partners. I'll say that again slowly for you Mr. Confused. I.... DID.... NOT.... CHOOSE.... MY... PARTNERS. Nor did you, we got given them. I don't think my team mates are horrible. The fact that we haven't hear from Rellik yet, is a bit worrisome, but Yellow Sword and I are doing quite fine. But you, Peter, and your team are in total disarray. Need I say more? No I've already said it."

Peter Said:You talk about our Thunderdome match where you somehow pinned me even though it was Tommy Gunn who fucked up the entire match with his stupid gun distracting me and allowing you to pin me. You see Mastermind, you can claim you beat me but you had help.

"Peter, Peter, Peter, when are you going to wake up and smell the roses? It's in the history books as a win. It doesn't matter what happened, and how it happened, because I still pinned you. 1... 2.. 3. I still won. And you still lost. But you need to do something for me, it's some advice that I gave to the great Sebastian Duke. Peter, build a fucking bridge and get over it. And I have the materials for you to do that literally."

[Image: stone77-4.gif]

[Image: stone77-7.gif]

[Image: stone77-8.gif]

[Image: stone77-10.gif]

"So Pete, if you follow all those instructions, the bridge should come out like this:"

[Image: stone77-11.jpg]

"So I implore you to build that bridge, and get the fuck over it. Because every time we meet, do we have to listen to your so called pity party saying that you lost to me because I had help. If I can't help you no one can. Not even yourself."

Peter Said:You said that when we fought you didn’t talk about my weight. Highly doubt that because you knew you would of said something stupid about it if given the chance.

"Well, seen that you won't go do any research because I clearly said that you should, I decided to give your lazy fat ass a rest and do the research for you. Coming up are all four promos that I used for my week heading up to the Thunderdome match, if you click on the links, you can clearly see that I did not speak about your weight at all. Go on give it a click. I dare you too. I dare you. In fact after the match you said to me, no you thanked me in private that I did not use the subject of your weight at all through out the week, and you took that under consideration."

Promo #1

Promo #2

Promo #3

Promo #4

Peter Said:And the funniest thing you said in your promo was that you “own me”. YOU?! HA! One little fluke win over me and you “OWN ME”. Wow, you really are a fuckin’ . Nobody has ever owned me in my entire career and never will.

Mastermind held up the t-shirt:

T-shirt Said:I

MASTERED

PETER
GILMOUR'S

MIND

"Do your remember this Peter? I sent you your shirt, until you can beat me one on one it means I OWN YOU. That's a fact. So come on Mr Gilmour, challenge me to a rematch and get your pride back. It obviously hurts you that I beat you. I OWN YOU and will continue to do so, until you beat me. It is you who is a if you can't get that through your mind."

Peter the so called Man Gilmour Said:But I digress. Mastermind, you can come out here and bash my teammates and say we’re not on the same page. Now Ray Tings did say some harsh shit about me and Ray no offense but I meant no harm in saying your name was horrible. In fact, I find it humorous. But Ray, I don’t PANDER to the fans or to anyone. And saying I’m a JOHN CENA wannabe? Fuck that motherfucker. I was a special guest on RAW and when he saw me, he literally shit his pants. Then I showed him why he is such a stale piece of shit and I gave him the GILLY BOMB and left him lying on the mat. That is exactly what I’m going to do to you and your teammates this Saturday night at Bad Medicine. I will leave all of you lying in a pool of your own blood.

"You so contradict yourself Peter it's not even funny. Do you see Team Mastermind imploding? No way dude. We are one. Not like Team Gilmour who are exploding because no one likes what the other person is saying. You guys continue to explode. We will just feast on the left overs.

"I think I've said quite enough for one promo. You've given me plenty of ammo. It is what it is. This Saturday Night you guys are going down. Team Mastermind will be victorious. And that's the way the cookie crumbles, so stick that in your pipe and smoke it."

Mastermind starts laughing as the camera fades out.]]> <![CDATA[Shooting Star - My Reflection]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20058 Thu, 21 May 2015 00:58:14 -0700 Doctor Louis D'Ville]]> https://xwf1999.com/showthread.php?tid=20058




                                                                                                                              


























































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"I used to live in a room full of mirrors; all I could see was me. I take my spirit and I crash my mirrors, now the whole world is here for me to see."

― Jimi Hendrix


[Image: Kd641BT.png]

You can learn a lot from your reflection . . .


Mirror, mirror show me clear, the fate of a Loverboy as the day draws near . . .

"What's this favor, then?"

I want you to assassinate Vinnie Lane.


The Ex-Detective wakes up. He's sitting in the driver's seat of his car. His sunglasses are half on and half off of his face as he slouched down in his seat. They were unnecessary, however, because the sun was in hiding today. The rain was relentless.

A half burnt cigarette lay rest between his fingers and his hands lay rest by his sides. He raises his head and opens his eyes. As he looks around and removes the sunglasses the rest of the way from his face. After he pulls himself up in the seat, with a trembling hand he slowly puckers around the charred roll of tobacco and fishes around in his pocket until he pulls out a lighter.

As the rain lets up, he's able to see around the car a little bit more and decides to step out and have a look around. He noticed the couple of drips of whiskey left in a flask inside his jacket pocket a few minutes ago... Could explain the black out. Either way, this is nothing far from what he's used to.

He stepped from the vehicle and pulled his jacket close against the back of his neck. The day is muggy, but the rain is still a little cold. He turns around and realizes he's facing an army of gravestones.

What. The fuck.

The Ex-Detective realizes he has come-to in some strange places before, but a cemetery? This is definitely a first.

He decides to pull the rest of the whiskey left in the flask. Then, without hesitation, he begins to walk towards the gate to enter the graveyard.

There's a lot of cars lined up near the entrance and in a small parking lot across the road from it. He was parked quite a ways up the street along the gate. He thought about hopping the gate up by the car, but that would look a little strange and with it being the middle of the day and all.

The Ex-Detective walks up a small path and notices the clouds begin to part in the sky. A beam of sunlight shines down from the top of a hill in the distance. He notices a large group of people slowly drifting away from the hill top, leaving only two. The Ex-Detective slowly makes his way towards the hill top, he watches as the one silhouette in the distance seems to comfort the other. After a few moments, there is only one silhouette. A tall, slender woman, it would appear, dressed from head to toe in all black.

Whether it seemed appropriate or not, it never crossed his mind, he continued to approach the hilltop. When he reached the top, the tall woman dressed in black stood tall and still in front of a lone tombstone.

Excuse me?

"?Em esucxe"

The Ex-Detective swallowed part of his words. His brain knew what to say, but did his mouth?

Am I speaking in tongues or something?

Hello?? Can you hear me?

"?Em raeh uoy nac ??Olleh"

?!

The Ex-Detective could compare speaking to spitting out shard of glass right now. He reaches out and touches the woman in black's shoulder and like a piece of plastic she fell forward to the ground.

It startled him at first, but then curiosity got the best of him and he reached down and rolled her over. The lifeless face of a life-sized lifeless plastic doll stared past the Ex-Detective into the clearing in the sky.

Funeral Barbie??

He picks up the doll and stands it back up on it's feet. He shakes his head then directs his attention to the tombstone that stood before him. He knelt down and rubbed his eyes. It seemed blurred to him. Jumbled. Indecipherable.

The Ex-Detective cocks his head and takes a deep hit from his cigarette. He blasts the front of the tombstone with smoke and it slowly becomes clearer and clearer. He reaches out and touches it as if to slowly uncover the lettering engraved into the marble.

A smile stretches across the Ex-Detectives face. He takes one last hit of his cigarette before reaching out with it and burning it out on the face of the tombstone. The end of it begins to spark tremendously and slowly begins burning into the marble. It cracks the face of it and splits the tombstone completely in half. The crack follows down through it and continues into the ground and in between the Ex-Detective's feet. He turns around and follows the crack as it continues to split the ground. The clouds that were begin to clear in the sky have been taken over by a thick sheet of dark clouds that rolled into the scene like a large carpet. The wind picked up and thunder begin to rumble in the sky and surround him with the sound. A single bolt of lighting strikes down and hits the tall tree standing at the hilltop with him. It instantaneously bursts into flames and slowly begins to crumble nearly on top of the Ex-Detective. A limb falls beside him and manages to throw enough ash and coals to ignite his arm. He begins to wave it frantically in the air while trying to rip off the jacket with his other hand.


The Ex-Detective flaps his arms frantically up and down as if he was trying to fly for the first time. He does it so much that he falls face first onto the floor from his chair. The Doctor chuckles out loud as the Ex-Detective begins to come-to.

Have a nice trip, Trevor?

"What the fuck was that?!"

The Ex-Detective looks up at the mirror and sees nothing but a reflection of himself and the room around him.

I told you the mirror was special.

The Ex-Detective stumbles up to his feet.

"This is really freaking me out, pal. I don't know what the fuck's real and what the fuck isn't anymore. This bullshit with the mirror and did you just ask me to kill someone?!"

Well, I wasn't really asking, but I brought it up. Yes.

"What?! Why?! Why me? Why kill someone?"

You know, Trevor. I believe I do owe somewhat of an explanation, I suppose. My purpose here, to this day, still seems unclear to even the ones that watched my arrival. They've heard me say it a thousand times as I continue to feel like a broken record. Just put me on 'repeat', ladies and gentlemen. It apparent that none of you seem to listen the first time. Or the second. Or third.

It would be appropriate, as well. I thought Mister Loverboy and I were far past introductions, but . . . I seem to be wrong again. What he doesn't understand though is, I DO know you, Vinnie. I know you every well. You don't have to replay your 'Behind the Music' for me again. Please, spare me. Spare us all. I know you've lived the rock n' roll dream your entire life. Age seventeen, looked down upon because of your golden locks and your mascara. You were determined to convince a certain someone that your choice of life would benefit you more than anything they could ever think up. Besides, this was your calling. The fame. The fortune. The rock n' roll. The woman. Who wouldn't ask for that type of life?

Yes. What a life.

An empire built with piss, semen, and vomit. What a kingdom. I know how rock stardom is, Mister Lane. You go from city to city. Town to town. You put on your little show. How many illegitimate little Vinnie Lane's do you think there are out in the world today, hm? And don't tell me that after all of the drugs and gallons of Jack and Cokes that you had the where-about to throw on a sock. You make me sick.

Here we are thirteen years later and what have you amounted to? Of course you're one of the most recognizable fellows in the world right now. The XWF has that power to boost someone's popularity like that. But see, it's the reason your out here week in and week out busting your balls to make an impression. How many other guys have to do that around here? I certainly don't. Do you think the next XWF fan will have no clue who the King is? The reason your there after Monday, week in and week out, is because you have to be, Mister Loverboy. You have to continue to make a presence and you have to continue to show that pretty face. Otherwise, your greatest fear will become a reality, you will indeed just fade away. You will be forgotten. And you will not be missed. I don't care how many times your throw your credentials and all of those stupid statistics in my face. Who you've beaten in the past is irrelevant. BEYOND irrelevant. Theo Pryce, John Samuels, Gator, Azrael . . . They're things of the past, Loverboy. A new era began when I stepped foot through the ropes for the very first time. I'm sure that in the XWF's many years, a few dark clouds have rolled in. But nothing like the one that I brought with me. From the first time that I said, 'Hello', the shadow has never left. The chill in the air has never ceased. And the inevitable remains infallible.

I don't understand what made you think stacking statistics next time mine made you look any more threatening. I never even stepped into the ring with half of those fellows, so your claims are pointless. I bet if I look back, you didn't beat a single one of them one on one. You were the Queen of Teams there for a while. "Vinnie and the Boys". All that did was cause drama stacked on top of more drama. You seem to surround yourself with that type of thing don't you, Loverboy? Always craving the attention and always opening your mouth. So much, it's put you in some strange situations before, hasn't it? You see, it's not your skill in the squared circle that's made you this renowned, Mister Lane. It's your constant presence when there's something afoot.

Let's back track a bit, shall we? The Doctor arrives on the scene and blows everyone out of the water, right? Impressed the right people. Won the right matches, including one with yourself. Ya-da. Ya-da. When it came down to who was the Superstar of the Month of September, you mentioned controversy and, in my opinion, stupidity from both parties costs you that award.

Controversy.

Vinnie Lane.

Two peas in a pod, my friend. I'm sure that my victory over you and just one failed Television Title attempt struck against me had nothing to do with the outcome of that. But there you were, defending yourself for some reason, like always. But all of that effort and bitching didn't lay to waste. Several, several, several months later you were finally awarded with Superstar of the Month. You have my congratulations, if I haven't already given them to you. It got to the point where there was really no one else to give the title to . . . So yeah, congrats, Vinnie.

Prior to all of that, you won the XWF Trios Titles! How exciting to win a title so quickly after your debut in this fine organization. Unfortunately, your friends didn't last long and the titles seemed to be . . . Taken out of commission a bit, am I right? That didn't stop you from carrying those little things around with you everywhere you went though! It took the XWF a few months to come up with something. You thought you chose wisely until you had to beat the two gentlemen you chose as your partners. Why do you think the XWF treated you the way they did, Mister Lane? You must be extremely well liked but the upper management to be thrown in stupid little games such as these. I've never had to deal with anything like that, to be honest. So anyway, you won, of course. The victory allowed you, Mister Gilmour, and Morbid Angel to team up and lose the titles to the Three Kings. So, minus the three month or so title reign you had with the titles. You never once managed to defend them. Did you forget to mention that credential during your last little storytime?

See, I know your story, my friend. You managed to actually make a few friends along the way to your Hart Title victory though. I can't say you are the tightest group to this day, but I'm sure Mister MacClay wasn't hesitant to provide you with some early favors. That Stampede looked awful easy, Mister Lane. I'm not sure what types of strings he pulled for you from the get-go, but the Asylum and myself placing Defiance in such disarray before the event surely played a decent part, as well. Is that the one victory you mentioned over Austin Fernando? Throwing him over the top rope? Hm. Talk about taking whatever you can. I mean, I know I gloated a bit about every kick out I made as the undefeated XWF X-Treme Champion, but I didn't count each one as say . . . A victory. But it's fine. Take whatever you can get, Loverboy. We know how you are.

As I said at the beginning, Mister Lane. It seems you've once against misconstrued what is I do here. My first time here I explained it over and over again. Simply put. I'm here to cure the XWF from all ailments. I've done a pretty good job so far, don't you think? Nothing is out of place. Everything is intact. Look around you. Have you ever seen such a prosperous organization in your life? I brought this light to the XWF. With all of my darkness and stormy whether, I placed a seed of prosperity in the center of it all. You can't deny that the XWF is the place to be right now. Look at your success, Mister Lane. Look at what you've become. You're a champion. Where do you suppose you would be if I never came here? Who do you suppose would be ruling at the top of the mountain? Would it be Gator? Would it be Morbid Angel? Would it be you?! Who knows. But if I never arrived here to place the bar where I did, none of you would be as talented or as successful as you believe you are. When I laid my first patient down with my Lobotomy, the entire world of the XWF stopped. They stopped, looked over their shoulder, and watched. That strange feeling your stomach? That chill that ran up your spine? That, my friends, was reality slapping you in the face. Whether the feeling was brought on by fear, lack of confidence, or something else. Every single person around that night began doubting their abilities. They doubted their true worth here in the XWF. If I didn't make you better, you perished. Those that did learn to adapt to their surroundings are still here. But they're waiting in hiding. In the shadows they wait for the right time to show their stupid little faces. Perfect example is right in front of me. Who else? Mister Lane.

Call us polar opposites. Arch enemies. Whatever you like. Say that I've been avoiding you . . . Whatever. The truth of the matter is that you won the Number One Contendership match for the Universal Title five months ago. Five months, Mister Lane. I have been Universal Champion for three of those five months.

Who avoided who?

You could have had your long awaited rematch that's been haunting you for ages whenever you wanted it. I've never backed down from a challenge.

Well, wait a moment. I did tell Mister Fernando he was in no position to be challenging me. Struck a deal with him and then put him in the proper place. So, I didn't exactly back down, but I procrastinated a bit. Hm. Much like you did, Loverboy! Was it procrastination or were you just biding your time? Training harder and harder everyday to ensure your victory at Bad Medicine? All of the training in the world isn't going to save you, my friend. You should know this. Also, I figured you'd be the last person to refer my talents back to my age. Because the fact I look eighty years old stopped me from dropping you on your head back in September, right?

Strength.

Speed.

Youth.

You could hold all of those cards, Vinnie. But I hold the ace in my back pocket. The gold around my waist is proof that no other competitor in this company can use any of those three things against me. Many have tried, some twice even. Some have even succeeded. But the gold does the talking. Your third or fourth place trophy. Your pink little prize . . . I would focus on holding onto that quite tightly the next couple of days, Loverboy. You don't want to walk away completely empty handed, anyway. That way, after Bad Medicine, you can forget about this entire week, or maybe pretend it was just a long bad dream. You can wear that belt with whatever pride that's left that you can scrape up and go back to representing Madness like a good little Loverboy. I'll continue to represent the XWF and rule over it like the dark cloud above it.

The Ex-Detective looks up at the Doctor.

"Back to to Madness? I thought you wanted him... gone?"

Well, of course. A mission is a mission, my friend. You sound convinced?

"No, no, no, no, no."

The Ex-Detective shoots up out of the chair.

"I'm not killing anybody, man. No way."

The Ex-Detective reaches over the desk and pulls a small glass bottle to his mouth. He gulps then immediately spits the liquid into the air.

"What the fuck?!"

That'd be kerosene for the lantern.

The Doctor points across the room to a hanging lantern near the door.

"Why the fuck would yo..--"

The Ex-Detective forgets the kerosene as he reaches for another bottle.

"Is this one alright?"

The finest bourbon . . .

The Ex-Detective takes a huge drink and barely manages to swallow it. The kerosene tasted a bit better he thought.

"Why do you want to kill this guy, anyway? Are you that afraid to fight him, or what?"

Nonsense!

I never mentioned WHEN, now did I? His demise could come long after Bad Medicine, or perhaps, the night of!

"But why?"

Why?

"Uh, yeah. Why?"

Have you not been listening to me this entire time, Trevor? Remarkable, you're so far away from being you, yet you still retain the attention span of a complete alcoholic.

Hm.

The reason why, Mister Dedntik is because I've been in this fine federation for nearly ten months. The words of Vinnie Lane is I've had it easy up until now. I have but a single blemish on my record and I continue to shut everyone down. I'm sure I've made it look easy, Mister Lane. Rest assured, it kind of has been. Beating everyone around you and everyone you encounter kind of makes you the best. And when you're the best there's no one that can touch you. The reason of the Loverboy's demise leads straight to why I'm here. The filth. The vermin. The disease that plagues the XWF all originates with Vinnie Lane. He is poison.

The controversies.

The discrepancies.

All come back on you, Mister Lane. When I first arrived here, I had no idea I'd spend the time I have here. No clue. But in a short period of time I grew to love the place that I ascended here to save. I will not sit back and watch you destroy it. The thought of you becoming the Universal Champion is the first step to eradicating you. The second step, is up to my friend here. Is the reason me going after Vinnie Lane a result of fear? Indeed. Fear of losing what I love most. The X-Treme Wrestling Federation. If Mister Lane becomes champion, the XWF as we know it will become nothing but a memory. The face of Vinnie Lane will be the final stamp before the XWF closes it's doors and is forgotten forever. The Doctor, my friends, is not going to let that happen.

"Well, okay, if you're not afraid of him.... Why not just beat him? You beat him, he stays away from the title. Right?"

Of course, Trevor. As unstoppable as I've become, I may not always be around forever. It's easy to say that someday my services will be required else where and I'll have to step away. That does not mean that my love for this company will leave with me. Even in my absence, I will protect the XWF from the dirty and grime that Vinnie Lane brings to the ring with him EVERY SINGLE MONDAY.

"I--- I can't believe what you're asking me to do here."

What's not to believe? A simple task, my friend. You never used to be like this, I must say.

The Ex-Detective holds the sides of his head together. If he were to guess, he would guess the headache forming is apoplexy. Or he would hope.

The Doctor places his hand over the Ex-Detective's shoulder as he begins to sob a bit.

There, there, Trevor.

The Doctor whispers down to his patient.

You're doing a lot better with this than I had anticipated, to be honest. Do me a favor?

The Ex-Detective sniffles and looks up at the Doctor. If anyone is going through any type of fear right now, it's him. The Doctor meets the Ex-Detective's eyes with the one of his own and nods towards the mirror. He rubs his eyes and allows a moment for them to focus. It's the graveyard again. And there's the Ex-Detective, standing over the same grave puffing away at a cigarette. He slides out of the chair and begins to crawl across the floor to the mirror. He squints and can finally read what's written across the tombstone.

[Image: pE6VbHx.jpg]

A look of horror stretches across the Ex-Detective's face as his own reflection turns around faces him. He removes the burning cigarette from his mouth and flicks it out of the mirror and hitting the Ex-Detective square between the eyes.

"What the hell!?"

The hot ash stings against his forehead and the bridge of his nose and he quickly begins to shuffle on his back side away from the mirror. His reflection begins to walk towards him away from the grave site. Somehow . . . The reflection steps through the mirror and into the office of the Doctor.

Well hello, Trevor.

The now physical reflection stands beside the Doctor above the Ex-Detective.

Doc... It's been a long time.

Indeed, it has. Are you ready for our next session?

You're fuckin' right.

The reflection reaches behind his back and pulls a pistol out from the back of his pants. He looks at the Doctor who responds with a nod and a grin. The Ex-Detective on the floor begins to panic and pulls himself away across the floor by his elbows.

"What the fuck is going on?!!"

The reflection walks across the room and picks the Ex-Detective up by the collar and throws him towards the mirror. He stumbles forward and falls into it. Instead of the mirror toppling over and the glass shattering everywhere, the Ex-Detective falls through it and lands on the other side.

The grave site is gone and it appears that he's standing in a similar room that he originally had woken up in. His prison. He reaches out and screams at the Doctor and his reflection and pounds on the glass which now seems impenetrable. The reflection returns a smile to the Doctor and lifts the pistol eye level and aims it at the mirror.

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"I used to live in a room full of mirrors; all I could see was me. I take my spirit and I crash my mirrors, now the whole world is here for me to see."

― Jimi Hendrix


[Image: Kd641BT.png]

You can learn a lot from your reflection . . .


Mirror, mirror show me clear, the fate of a Loverboy as the day draws near . . .

"What's this favor, then?"

I want you to assassinate Vinnie Lane.


The Ex-Detective wakes up. He's sitting in the driver's seat of his car. His sunglasses are half on and half off of his face as he slouched down in his seat. They were unnecessary, however, because the sun was in hiding today. The rain was relentless.

A half burnt cigarette lay rest between his fingers and his hands lay rest by his sides. He raises his head and opens his eyes. As he looks around and removes the sunglasses the rest of the way from his face. After he pulls himself up in the seat, with a trembling hand he slowly puckers around the charred roll of tobacco and fishes around in his pocket until he pulls out a lighter.

As the rain lets up, he's able to see around the car a little bit more and decides to step out and have a look around. He noticed the couple of drips of whiskey left in a flask inside his jacket pocket a few minutes ago... Could explain the black out. Either way, this is nothing far from what he's used to.

He stepped from the vehicle and pulled his jacket close against the back of his neck. The day is muggy, but the rain is still a little cold. He turns around and realizes he's facing an army of gravestones.

What. The fuck.

The Ex-Detective realizes he has come-to in some strange places before, but a cemetery? This is definitely a first.

He decides to pull the rest of the whiskey left in the flask. Then, without hesitation, he begins to walk towards the gate to enter the graveyard.

There's a lot of cars lined up near the entrance and in a small parking lot across the road from it. He was parked quite a ways up the street along the gate. He thought about hopping the gate up by the car, but that would look a little strange and with it being the middle of the day and all.

The Ex-Detective walks up a small path and notices the clouds begin to part in the sky. A beam of sunlight shines down from the top of a hill in the distance. He notices a large group of people slowly drifting away from the hill top, leaving only two. The Ex-Detective slowly makes his way towards the hill top, he watches as the one silhouette in the distance seems to comfort the other. After a few moments, there is only one silhouette. A tall, slender woman, it would appear, dressed from head to toe in all black.

Whether it seemed appropriate or not, it never crossed his mind, he continued to approach the hilltop. When he reached the top, the tall woman dressed in black stood tall and still in front of a lone tombstone.

Excuse me?

"?Em esucxe"

The Ex-Detective swallowed part of his words. His brain knew what to say, but did his mouth?

Am I speaking in tongues or something?

Hello?? Can you hear me?

"?Em raeh uoy nac ??Olleh"

?!

The Ex-Detective could compare speaking to spitting out shard of glass right now. He reaches out and touches the woman in black's shoulder and like a piece of plastic she fell forward to the ground.

It startled him at first, but then curiosity got the best of him and he reached down and rolled her over. The lifeless face of a life-sized lifeless plastic doll stared past the Ex-Detective into the clearing in the sky.

Funeral Barbie??

He picks up the doll and stands it back up on it's feet. He shakes his head then directs his attention to the tombstone that stood before him. He knelt down and rubbed his eyes. It seemed blurred to him. Jumbled. Indecipherable.

The Ex-Detective cocks his head and takes a deep hit from his cigarette. He blasts the front of the tombstone with smoke and it slowly becomes clearer and clearer. He reaches out and touches it as if to slowly uncover the lettering engraved into the marble.

A smile stretches across the Ex-Detectives face. He takes one last hit of his cigarette before reaching out with it and burning it out on the face of the tombstone. The end of it begins to spark tremendously and slowly begins burning into the marble. It cracks the face of it and splits the tombstone completely in half. The crack follows down through it and continues into the ground and in between the Ex-Detective's feet. He turns around and follows the crack as it continues to split the ground. The clouds that were begin to clear in the sky have been taken over by a thick sheet of dark clouds that rolled into the scene like a large carpet. The wind picked up and thunder begin to rumble in the sky and surround him with the sound. A single bolt of lighting strikes down and hits the tall tree standing at the hilltop with him. It instantaneously bursts into flames and slowly begins to crumble nearly on top of the Ex-Detective. A limb falls beside him and manages to throw enough ash and coals to ignite his arm. He begins to wave it frantically in the air while trying to rip off the jacket with his other hand.


The Ex-Detective flaps his arms frantically up and down as if he was trying to fly for the first time. He does it so much that he falls face first onto the floor from his chair. The Doctor chuckles out loud as the Ex-Detective begins to come-to.

Have a nice trip, Trevor?

"What the fuck was that?!"

The Ex-Detective looks up at the mirror and sees nothing but a reflection of himself and the room around him.

I told you the mirror was special.

The Ex-Detective stumbles up to his feet.

"This is really freaking me out, pal. I don't know what the fuck's real and what the fuck isn't anymore. This bullshit with the mirror and did you just ask me to kill someone?!"

Well, I wasn't really asking, but I brought it up. Yes.

"What?! Why?! Why me? Why kill someone?"

You know, Trevor. I believe I do owe somewhat of an explanation, I suppose. My purpose here, to this day, still seems unclear to even the ones that watched my arrival. They've heard me say it a thousand times as I continue to feel like a broken record. Just put me on 'repeat', ladies and gentlemen. It apparent that none of you seem to listen the first time. Or the second. Or third.

It would be appropriate, as well. I thought Mister Loverboy and I were far past introductions, but . . . I seem to be wrong again. What he doesn't understand though is, I DO know you, Vinnie. I know you every well. You don't have to replay your 'Behind the Music' for me again. Please, spare me. Spare us all. I know you've lived the rock n' roll dream your entire life. Age seventeen, looked down upon because of your golden locks and your mascara. You were determined to convince a certain someone that your choice of life would benefit you more than anything they could ever think up. Besides, this was your calling. The fame. The fortune. The rock n' roll. The woman. Who wouldn't ask for that type of life?

Yes. What a life.

An empire built with piss, semen, and vomit. What a kingdom. I know how rock stardom is, Mister Lane. You go from city to city. Town to town. You put on your little show. How many illegitimate little Vinnie Lane's do you think there are out in the world today, hm? And don't tell me that after all of the drugs and gallons of Jack and Cokes that you had the where-about to throw on a sock. You make me sick.

Here we are thirteen years later and what have you amounted to? Of course you're one of the most recognizable fellows in the world right now. The XWF has that power to boost someone's popularity like that. But see, it's the reason your out here week in and week out busting your balls to make an impression. How many other guys have to do that around here? I certainly don't. Do you think the next XWF fan will have no clue who the King is? The reason your there after Monday, week in and week out, is because you have to be, Mister Loverboy. You have to continue to make a presence and you have to continue to show that pretty face. Otherwise, your greatest fear will become a reality, you will indeed just fade away. You will be forgotten. And you will not be missed. I don't care how many times your throw your credentials and all of those stupid statistics in my face. Who you've beaten in the past is irrelevant. BEYOND irrelevant. Theo Pryce, John Samuels, Gator, Azrael . . . They're things of the past, Loverboy. A new era began when I stepped foot through the ropes for the very first time. I'm sure that in the XWF's many years, a few dark clouds have rolled in. But nothing like the one that I brought with me. From the first time that I said, 'Hello', the shadow has never left. The chill in the air has never ceased. And the inevitable remains infallible.

I don't understand what made you think stacking statistics next time mine made you look any more threatening. I never even stepped into the ring with half of those fellows, so your claims are pointless. I bet if I look back, you didn't beat a single one of them one on one. You were the Queen of Teams there for a while. "Vinnie and the Boys". All that did was cause drama stacked on top of more drama. You seem to surround yourself with that type of thing don't you, Loverboy? Always craving the attention and always opening your mouth. So much, it's put you in some strange situations before, hasn't it? You see, it's not your skill in the squared circle that's made you this renowned, Mister Lane. It's your constant presence when there's something afoot.

Let's back track a bit, shall we? The Doctor arrives on the scene and blows everyone out of the water, right? Impressed the right people. Won the right matches, including one with yourself. Ya-da. Ya-da. When it came down to who was the Superstar of the Month of September, you mentioned controversy and, in my opinion, stupidity from both parties costs you that award.

Controversy.

Vinnie Lane.

Two peas in a pod, my friend. I'm sure that my victory over you and just one failed Television Title attempt struck against me had nothing to do with the outcome of that. But there you were, defending yourself for some reason, like always. But all of that effort and bitching didn't lay to waste. Several, several, several months later you were finally awarded with Superstar of the Month. You have my congratulations, if I haven't already given them to you. It got to the point where there was really no one else to give the title to . . . So yeah, congrats, Vinnie.

Prior to all of that, you won the XWF Trios Titles! How exciting to win a title so quickly after your debut in this fine organization. Unfortunately, your friends didn't last long and the titles seemed to be . . . Taken out of commission a bit, am I right? That didn't stop you from carrying those little things around with you everywhere you went though! It took the XWF a few months to come up with something. You thought you chose wisely until you had to beat the two gentlemen you chose as your partners. Why do you think the XWF treated you the way they did, Mister Lane? You must be extremely well liked but the upper management to be thrown in stupid little games such as these. I've never had to deal with anything like that, to be honest. So anyway, you won, of course. The victory allowed you, Mister Gilmour, and Morbid Angel to team up and lose the titles to the Three Kings. So, minus the three month or so title reign you had with the titles. You never once managed to defend them. Did you forget to mention that credential during your last little storytime?

See, I know your story, my friend. You managed to actually make a few friends along the way to your Hart Title victory though. I can't say you are the tightest group to this day, but I'm sure Mister MacClay wasn't hesitant to provide you with some early favors. That Stampede looked awful easy, Mister Lane. I'm not sure what types of strings he pulled for you from the get-go, but the Asylum and myself placing Defiance in such disarray before the event surely played a decent part, as well. Is that the one victory you mentioned over Austin Fernando? Throwing him over the top rope? Hm. Talk about taking whatever you can. I mean, I know I gloated a bit about every kick out I made as the undefeated XWF X-Treme Champion, but I didn't count each one as say . . . A victory. But it's fine. Take whatever you can get, Loverboy. We know how you are.

As I said at the beginning, Mister Lane. It seems you've once against misconstrued what is I do here. My first time here I explained it over and over again. Simply put. I'm here to cure the XWF from all ailments. I've done a pretty good job so far, don't you think? Nothing is out of place. Everything is intact. Look around you. Have you ever seen such a prosperous organization in your life? I brought this light to the XWF. With all of my darkness and stormy whether, I placed a seed of prosperity in the center of it all. You can't deny that the XWF is the place to be right now. Look at your success, Mister Lane. Look at what you've become. You're a champion. Where do you suppose you would be if I never came here? Who do you suppose would be ruling at the top of the mountain? Would it be Gator? Would it be Morbid Angel? Would it be you?! Who knows. But if I never arrived here to place the bar where I did, none of you would be as talented or as successful as you believe you are. When I laid my first patient down with my Lobotomy, the entire world of the XWF stopped. They stopped, looked over their shoulder, and watched. That strange feeling your stomach? That chill that ran up your spine? That, my friends, was reality slapping you in the face. Whether the feeling was brought on by fear, lack of confidence, or something else. Every single person around that night began doubting their abilities. They doubted their true worth here in the XWF. If I didn't make you better, you perished. Those that did learn to adapt to their surroundings are still here. But they're waiting in hiding. In the shadows they wait for the right time to show their stupid little faces. Perfect example is right in front of me. Who else? Mister Lane.

Call us polar opposites. Arch enemies. Whatever you like. Say that I've been avoiding you . . . Whatever. The truth of the matter is that you won the Number One Contendership match for the Universal Title five months ago. Five months, Mister Lane. I have been Universal Champion for three of those five months.

Who avoided who?

You could have had your long awaited rematch that's been haunting you for ages whenever you wanted it. I've never backed down from a challenge.

Well, wait a moment. I did tell Mister Fernando he was in no position to be challenging me. Struck a deal with him and then put him in the proper place. So, I didn't exactly back down, but I procrastinated a bit. Hm. Much like you did, Loverboy! Was it procrastination or were you just biding your time? Training harder and harder everyday to ensure your victory at Bad Medicine? All of the training in the world isn't going to save you, my friend. You should know this. Also, I figured you'd be the last person to refer my talents back to my age. Because the fact I look eighty years old stopped me from dropping you on your head back in September, right?

Strength.

Speed.

Youth.

You could hold all of those cards, Vinnie. But I hold the ace in my back pocket. The gold around my waist is proof that no other competitor in this company can use any of those three things against me. Many have tried, some twice even. Some have even succeeded. But the gold does the talking. Your third or fourth place trophy. Your pink little prize . . . I would focus on holding onto that quite tightly the next couple of days, Loverboy. You don't want to walk away completely empty handed, anyway. That way, after Bad Medicine, you can forget about this entire week, or maybe pretend it was just a long bad dream. You can wear that belt with whatever pride that's left that you can scrape up and go back to representing Madness like a good little Loverboy. I'll continue to represent the XWF and rule over it like the dark cloud above it.

The Ex-Detective looks up at the Doctor.

"Back to to Madness? I thought you wanted him... gone?"

Well, of course. A mission is a mission, my friend. You sound convinced?

"No, no, no, no, no."

The Ex-Detective shoots up out of the chair.

"I'm not killing anybody, man. No way."

The Ex-Detective reaches over the desk and pulls a small glass bottle to his mouth. He gulps then immediately spits the liquid into the air.

"What the fuck?!"

That'd be kerosene for the lantern.

The Doctor points across the room to a hanging lantern near the door.

"Why the fuck would yo..--"

The Ex-Detective forgets the kerosene as he reaches for another bottle.

"Is this one alright?"

The finest bourbon . . .

The Ex-Detective takes a huge drink and barely manages to swallow it. The kerosene tasted a bit better he thought.

"Why do you want to kill this guy, anyway? Are you that afraid to fight him, or what?"

Nonsense!

I never mentioned WHEN, now did I? His demise could come long after Bad Medicine, or perhaps, the night of!

"But why?"

Why?

"Uh, yeah. Why?"

Have you not been listening to me this entire time, Trevor? Remarkable, you're so far away from being you, yet you still retain the attention span of a complete alcoholic.

Hm.

The reason why, Mister Dedntik is because I've been in this fine federation for nearly ten months. The words of Vinnie Lane is I've had it easy up until now. I have but a single blemish on my record and I continue to shut everyone down. I'm sure I've made it look easy, Mister Lane. Rest assured, it kind of has been. Beating everyone around you and everyone you encounter kind of makes you the best. And when you're the best there's no one that can touch you. The reason of the Loverboy's demise leads straight to why I'm here. The filth. The vermin. The disease that plagues the XWF all originates with Vinnie Lane. He is poison.

The controversies.

The discrepancies.

All come back on you, Mister Lane. When I first arrived here, I had no idea I'd spend the time I have here. No clue. But in a short period of time I grew to love the place that I ascended here to save. I will not sit back and watch you destroy it. The thought of you becoming the Universal Champion is the first step to eradicating you. The second step, is up to my friend here. Is the reason me going after Vinnie Lane a result of fear? Indeed. Fear of losing what I love most. The X-Treme Wrestling Federation. If Mister Lane becomes champion, the XWF as we know it will become nothing but a memory. The face of Vinnie Lane will be the final stamp before the XWF closes it's doors and is forgotten forever. The Doctor, my friends, is not going to let that happen.

"Well, okay, if you're not afraid of him.... Why not just beat him? You beat him, he stays away from the title. Right?"

Of course, Trevor. As unstoppable as I've become, I may not always be around forever. It's easy to say that someday my services will be required else where and I'll have to step away. That does not mean that my love for this company will leave with me. Even in my absence, I will protect the XWF from the dirty and grime that Vinnie Lane brings to the ring with him EVERY SINGLE MONDAY.

"I--- I can't believe what you're asking me to do here."

What's not to believe? A simple task, my friend. You never used to be like this, I must say.

The Ex-Detective holds the sides of his head together. If he were to guess, he would guess the headache forming is apoplexy. Or he would hope.

The Doctor places his hand over the Ex-Detective's shoulder as he begins to sob a bit.

There, there, Trevor.

The Doctor whispers down to his patient.

You're doing a lot better with this than I had anticipated, to be honest. Do me a favor?

The Ex-Detective sniffles and looks up at the Doctor. If anyone is going through any type of fear right now, it's him. The Doctor meets the Ex-Detective's eyes with the one of his own and nods towards the mirror. He rubs his eyes and allows a moment for them to focus. It's the graveyard again. And there's the Ex-Detective, standing over the same grave puffing away at a cigarette. He slides out of the chair and begins to crawl across the floor to the mirror. He squints and can finally read what's written across the tombstone.

[Image: pE6VbHx.jpg]

A look of horror stretches across the Ex-Detective's face as his own reflection turns around faces him. He removes the burning cigarette from his mouth and flicks it out of the mirror and hitting the Ex-Detective square between the eyes.

"What the hell!?"

The hot ash stings against his forehead and the bridge of his nose and he quickly begins to shuffle on his back side away from the mirror. His reflection begins to walk towards him away from the grave site. Somehow . . . The reflection steps through the mirror and into the office of the Doctor.

Well hello, Trevor.

The now physical reflection stands beside the Doctor above the Ex-Detective.

Doc... It's been a long time.

Indeed, it has. Are you ready for our next session?

You're fuckin' right.

The reflection reaches behind his back and pulls a pistol out from the back of his pants. He looks at the Doctor who responds with a nod and a grin. The Ex-Detective on the floor begins to panic and pulls himself away across the floor by his elbows.

"What the fuck is going on?!!"

The reflection walks across the room and picks the Ex-Detective up by the collar and throws him towards the mirror. He stumbles forward and falls into it. Instead of the mirror toppling over and the glass shattering everywhere, the Ex-Detective falls through it and lands on the other side.

The grave site is gone and it appears that he's standing in a similar room that he originally had woken up in. His prison. He reaches out and screams at the Doctor and his reflection and pounds on the glass which now seems impenetrable. The reflection returns a smile to the Doctor and lifts the pistol eye level and aims it at the mirror.

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