Post by Joey Flash on May 6, 2016 22:32:47 GMT -5
To all of us
‘Le Lion’ was awash with life and energy, the laugher and noxious pheromones made a cocktail in and of itself as men in bespoke Giorgio suits and women with red soled heels that would be pointing skyward by the time the clock hit midnight, Hispanic Cinderella in your sugar daddy funded dress and sickening Coco Chanel odour you shall go to the ball. The waiter, ‘Eduardo’ as was scribed on his name tag – the only thing he had always resented about working at the esteemed Robert Hess endorsed cocktail bar in the heart of Mexico City collected the three glasses from the bar and began to manoeuvre through the swath of flirtation, grinding and eye fucking stares .
The head charge of a hundred dollars kept the clientele select for the most part, it also kept the clientele a strictly macadamia hue. It pained him to see the pinnacle of the womenfolk from his city being vultured by the money and power of men under the veil of celebrity or opulence. The VIP section had been booked by one such man this evening, and for every Sunday night for the next three weeks. He stepped past the security to the secluded tiered VIP seating and rather than a raucous party of women, cocaine fuelled alpha mentality and copious discarded broken cocktail dreams there were only three men sat around a table at the rear of the spacious area that would on a good night hold up to a hundred people.
It provided a surreal dreamscape for Eduardo; the Trio couldn’t be any different. At one side sat a lithe light skinned Negro, a beaten slouching beanie perched atop his head was offset by the Saint Laurent combo of baby blue jacket and ripped skinny jeans finished off by some well-worn charcoal Tims. Opposite him, in every sense was an Aryan who as contrast to the languidness of his counterpart was upright in rigidity, you could have taken this man’s face and placed it on any of the men that came to ‘Le Lion’ and it would have fit – though Eduardo had the uneasy feeling that if you placed this man’s face on almost anyone, in any situation it would somehow ‘fit’. This face at this time was fitting in beautifully with a single breasted grey Armani suit and slacks with navy Brenson brogues – the way he stiffly shifted in his seat it gave the feeling that this man was dressing down for the night.
In the centre sat the most bizarre and outlandish of the three. From the looks of this third man he seemed to belong more on the streets panhandling than in this establishment, his jet black mane was encircled by a blue headband, with black hooded top and tight grey sweatpants topped off with some faded Nike Air Force 1’s. The mood seemed to be anything but joviality as Eduardo approached; the men were barely even looking at each other let alone having a good time. He lowered the drinks tray to the table and began to decant the beverages in front of each man. Straight neat Hennessey for the gentleman to the right, an Old Fashioned for the gentleman in the middle and for the man on the left a martini, stirred not-
Jared: You spilled a bit.
Eduardo looked upward to find the cold dead blue eyes hollowing his fortitude before he could even speak.
Eduardo: I…oh- I’m-
Jared: Clean it up.
The Negro spoke up.
Andre: Bruh, he didn’t spill-
The third man said nothing – just observed. Eduardo hastily reached into his breast pocket for his cloth.
Jared: No cloth.
Eduardo looked puzzled at the young blonde man sat in front of him, the next line was delivered with such quiet venom it could have melted a hole in the floor.
Jared: With your tongue.
Eduardo took a step backward, shocked, angered and disgusted.
Eduardo: You’re kidding sir I can’t-
Jared: You can, and will. Now. Clean my table.
The waiter tentatively stepped forward and peered toward the table squinting his eyes in the dim light, there was no spillage.
Eduardo: Sir, there isn’t-
With one deft move, Jared Holmes plucked his glass from the table and slammed it in a shattering maelstrom of pain into the face of Eduardo. Eduardo felt first blunt force pain flash through his nervous system then residual throbbing scraping piercing pain across his forehead as his vision hazed crimson. Jared Holmes stood above him, not an ounce of emotion even showing across the man’s face as he raised one of the brogues into view as the waiter collapsed to the floor.
‘So, that’s why he wasn’t wearing dress shoes’. With the footfall came darkness as Eduardo was sent into unconsciousness. Jared took a step back from the broken waiter and let out a deep breath before turning to face his compatriots. Andre stood up and squared up to his friend.
Andre: BRO stop it, what the fuck are you doing? Have you lost ya fuckin’ mind?
Jared turned to the still seated Joey Flash.
Jared: No. Not me. I haven’t lost; I haven’t lost a damn fucking thing. But you, you…
He points an accusatory finger across the table toward Joey before tensing his fingers and balling them into a fist, exploding in a barrage of the emotion he keeps bubbling under the lacquer masquerade visage.
Jared: You lost EVERYTHING. You are supposed to be the BEST, why are you losing? Why are you losing the most important thing in the company? I have lived the past year of my life to get to this point. Everything I have done here has been for you, because of you. I don’t care about anything else, anyone else, I went through three months of hell to fight YOU and you, at the last minute – this is what you do to me? I put my all into you, I trusted you, I believ-
Jared flops to his seat, regaining his composure before he compromises anything. Aquarius, sensing the situation somewhat diffused takes a step back and similarly sits back down. This time, it is Flash’s turn to rise. Ignoring Jared, he strides toward the fallen waiter and fumbles around in his hoodie pocket before producing a money clip; he counts off ten fifties and places them inside the breast pocket along with the man’s cloth before calling over to security.
Joey: Hey, security. This man needs to go to a hospital. All medical bills will be paid for by the tab by name of Jared Holmes.
Jared: You-
Joey holds a palm of defiance toward his partner and looks toward the broken Eduardo as the two burly security guys hoist him shoulderward and haul him off to be rushed to the hospital.
Joey: Sorry about my friend.
Flash turns to regard his Trios partners. This had been coming, Jared had been simmering ready to explode for the past few hours since they got backstage after Slam. The three had barely as much as exchanged a glance let alone words since then. For all the rage swirling inside of Jared Holmes, for all the disappointment nestling in the back of Andre Aquarius’ mind, the only thing Joey Flash felt was…numbness. From holding the master key to everything in the WCF he had been held up at gunpoint without so much as a knife to defend himself from the Lerch authorised assault of Bates and the grinning, manic wild briefcase wielding Logan. Everything moved in slow motion that night, from the Bates Boot to the cries of the crowd when Logan avoided the Lightning Bolt, landing deftly on his feet behind Joey it was at that point Joey’s Damoclesian rope was hanging by a thread. Even at this point there was no doubt in Joey’s mind that he couldn’t lose. Not him. Not now.
Time stopped in that instant. As Joey looked around the ringside area, he saw everything in crystal clear 4K vision, every detail on every face in the audience. The way the light reflected off the lenses of a bespectacled man in the front row, his mouth agape with shock as if stood by the procession car as John Kennedy was reeling from the shot that stopped the world – back, and to the left – back and, to the left, back and-
This was the feelings. Joey felt his chest convex in a breath and muscles tense almost to the point of tearing themselves apart as he prepared himself. Logan was finished. This was the time.
Then, the tiniest flicker of moment in his dreamscape, the rising of a billowing smoke cloud floated from half way up the bleachers, it was so tiny and nigh on perceptible that he almost didn’t notice. Focusing on the smoke his eyes tracked downward to the source. Where everything was still, there was one man stood, watching, breathing and completely fluid in movement. The smoke billowed once more and the man removed the cigar from his mouth with a wide comic book smile. Jim Thuggin.
The strange man – no it was not a game for pretences anymore, the creature mouthed what should have been an inaudible whisper but to Joey Flash it boomed through the PA system like his voicebox was plugged in to the system itself.
“End of The World.”
1…
2…
3.
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Audiolog intercepted; transcription from Pod 43, Sentient 1 to “Jalaxaritkatusain Salvation Program”
37590451 of the Astral Cycle
It is the worst case scenario. The Chosen Child and The Destroyer are set to face each other in one on one combat. This is a moment that has explicitly been neglected in the writings of Sage DM Crunk. Everything that has been scribed through the aeons has led to this moment right here, I have followed ‘The Galactic Prophecy’ since my gestation and it has been my single pathos in life to facilitate its fulfilment. Now I stand shakingly at the precipice of the unknown, there is no scripture detailing this point and beyond.
Joseph Malignaggi and Jared Holmes are the two souls we have been searching for our previous three millennia, through innumerable centuries of bleak dark nothingness and crossing an ocean of primitive life form after primitive life form we finally found them. Co-existing in the smallest of ponds in the Universe without so much as even knowing the connection that the two innately share.
Malignaggi is indeed dangerous, dangerous but not yet apocalyptic.
37590458 of the Astral Cycle: Early Crest
There is no way around it. I must intervene, this fight must be aborted. I have worked so hard for so long to let my hesitance hold back my instinct, the match between the pair is a month away, how can I put a stop to this? I will enter the Hall of Thoughtfulness in the mother base and pour over my thoughts.
37590458 of the Astral Cycle: Falling Light
I have found a loophole. The ability of The Destroyer is singular in its might as of current reporting. For the hours I have spent surveying the man in the ring there is a singular point in which he displays weakness, it is an exploit I can truly make the most of. I will turn his greatest strength, his celestial power shall be turned on itself. I just need to orchestrate an opportunity to remove him from the match with The Chosen One, there is one option – a man far too sloth of mind and body to do it alone. I will manipulate his puppet master and give them their prize on a silver platter, I will see Malignaggi fall.
Do you understand the term ‘Making a deal with the devil’? I did not understand this terminology on my earthbound existence. Today I fully comprehend – at my lowest ebb in psyche it happened. He happened. You were wrong about him Overseer. You were so, so wrong.
37590459 of the Astral Cycle: Mid Crest
It’s done; Malignaggi has been removed from the match with The Chosen One. Now we get to watch our prophesised destiny take shape.
I should be experiencing feelings of great happiness and joy. Why then, do I have a feeling deep inside that I just made the biggest mistake possible?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*TRANSMISSION END*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Life is Strange
Asian bitch with a flat ass.
Buck teeth.
Ugh, put a top on bitch.
#TRIGGLYPUFF
They were five drinks deep now. Andre had been swiping left for the past five minutes and was getting nowhere fast.
Andre: This shit is fuckin’ horrible. Mexico has the worst bitches ever, all I want is a main bitch that cooks, cleans and swallows, is that too much for a young nigga to ask? How did you guys manage?
Flash and Holmes exchange a look.
Joey: Luck.
Jared: Power.
Andre: So I need luck and power along with my horse dick? I done had that for like three months now.
Joey: Look, you want a good woman?
Andre: Yeah, I need a good bitch up in my shit.
Joey: A good bitch up in your shit, right. So, first you need to find someone to have mutual-
Joey’s wise advice was crushed.
Andre: DAMN I WOULD TONGUE DOWN THAT ASS! Ayo Jared, check it bruh.
An excited Andre holds his phone toward Jared who nods in placating agreement.
Jared: I’d fuck it.
Andre: Right? Damn ‘Carla’ you better get that mutual like in right quick my balls turning blue. Ay, so like, we’re facing the Team of Torture right?
Jared: Uhuh.
Andre: That’s Logan Cooper, Dag Cooper and who the fuck is this other guy?
Jared: How the fuck should I know?
Andre: Really, like I’ve searched around. I’ve Googled, Yahoo’d and even fuckin’ Ask Jeeves’d this nigga and nothing. I’ve tried asking around to find someone who knows someone who knows someone who knows of this nigga. Seth…who is this nigga?
Joey: It’s ‘The GAME Cooper’.
For the rest of this promotional video Jared Holmes and Andre Aquarius become the greatest hype men ever seen in this company
Andre: That’s a stupid fuckin name nigga.
Jared: Sounds like a Shaft villain of the week.
Joey: Let me start by welcoming you to the company. Hi The Game, congratulations you’ve won an award within your first month. Come on down, I’ll present you with the ‘Least creative name in wrestling award’. James Chevalier, you actually called yourself…’The Game’ – I…I don’t even. It’s like if I made my debut and Kyle Steel stepped up to announce me…
Kyle Steel: Introducing, weighting 220lbs, from The Bronx, New York…THE HEARTBREAK KID – Joeeeeeeyyyy Flaaash!
Joey: Within five minutes of this guy being on the roster he buried himself deeper than Logan’s credibility, masculinity, wit, intelligence and homosexual repression.
Andre: Damn this nigga digging for Australia.
Joey: Roasting session, I could spend about five hours just killing this poor sap without even dissecting his weak ass holy shit. You named yourself – ‘The Game’ aight, so plagiarism from other wrestling companies not withstanding this is an interesting name, so let’s dig how as to how this creative genius came up with his name.
Andre: We got a mothafuckin’ Da Vinci in here!
Joey: So this idiot is get this – ‘a gamer’. He legitimately named himself after a fucking HOBBY. Why don’t we all do that?
The Boning Thick Ebony Hoes
The Philanthropic Fashionista
The Line of Cocaine
Andre: Ay, got heeeeem.
Joey: What are you even doing here you doughy, podgy, pale faggot? You aren’t a wrestler by any stretch of the imagination. You look like the default ‘Create a Wrestler’ on WWF No Mercy. How about you stick to playing that shit rather than stepping into MY business, there are no save points, no retries, no continues in the professional wrestling business you can’t suddenly ragequit and throw your controller down like ‘FUCK JOEY FLASH JUST GAME ME BRAIN DAMAGE I NEED TO RESTART’ nope, you’re a fucking cabbage. You even stepping into the same ring as me is a disgrace, who signed off on your medical release to allow you to compete here? I guess the same soft, slow faggot who decided to back Logan and ‘The Family’ as contenders, that’s like watching the Kentucky Derby and betting on the lame three legged donkey that mistakenly got into the starting gate.
It was only last year Seth was watching me beating the fuck out of Logan and clapping like a spastic seal as I pushed that guys shit in time and time again. ‘You go Joey; I’m behind you all the way!’ What changed Seth? What did I do to make you leave me? Do you not believe in me anymore? I tried my best to live up to your hopes and aspirations for me, I had the best debut year in history, I’ve dominated the federation top to bottom without as much as breaking a sweat and I did it for you, for the faith you showed in me. You called me your next superstar and man, that meant something to me. Was it something I said? Was it something I did? Am I just not good enough for you?
Joey pauses for a moment and muses, sniffing at the air a little before a smile creeps across his face.
Joey: Oh shit! I guess the pencil necked faggot repellent is working fine after all.
Andre: Got heeeeeeeeeem!
Joey: ‘The Family’ is the most retarded stable in WCF history. This is a history that contains Pantheon. You went from ‘group of random heels’ to ‘bizarre stupid swamp family who fucked gators’ now to ‘generic authority type blandness’. I think I preferred it when Logan was going balls deep in a fucking crocodile. You’ve let Dag down something rotten Logi-bear Cooper (fucking fruitcake) you convinced him with so much wonder and joy to come to your side, ‘come on boy, we’ll have a good ol’ time, Mr Cooper will show you the way.’ Dag’s face lit up at this point. He only joined with you thinking he could enjoy
Now you fucking guys managed to convince this imbecile to join your ranks, when does the retardation stop? Well, probably when all three of you are dead – but that’s coming. What’s in this for you Game? What do you possibly have to gain from hanging out with these guys? What ideals do you share with Logan and Dag Riddik? Really, I’d like to know. I’m like, super interested.
Andre: Joey sarcasming!!!!
Joey: ‘Hmm this guy actively calls himself the ‘face of treachery’ and has betrayed and fucked over every single partner he has ever had in the history of the company – sounds like a trustworthy kinda fella, I’m in!’ Fuck sake. At least I’m unpredictable enough to team up with that it’s only like 90% certain I’ll end up beating the shit out of you.
Jared: Won’t happen.
Joey: But this guy is batting 1.000 for that shit. But no, your real excuse? You’re working as an informant on Dag Riddik.
Andre: Snitches get stiches!!
Joey: This shit barely even makes sense at this point. Motherfucker just because you logged a thousand hours into Goldeneye, that shit doesn’t make you James Bond. I bet you were that annoying cunt who always rushed to pick fucking Oddjob as well.
You are a complete fop. You picked an ideal time to debut as well, and it’s as if you’ve done all the research in the world. You join a team at the exact time they’re getting an undeserved, unwarranted, underwhelming push and hoping to bandwagon that shit all the way to success here. No long hard slogs for you eh Game? You want that fast road straight to the top! Well this is the match where you come crashing straight back to Earth in the most devastating way possible. You’re 2-0 and proud of that zero, I get it, I was too but you ain’t making it any further this is where your terrible little manufactured shitty start ends. But hey, who knows Game, for a rookie you sure know a lot about a lot. You picked your opponents apart last round with the precision of a Spencer Adams (you tried hard and did the best you could, but in the end still fucking sucked) I’m sure you’ll know a lot about me and my history, you’ll know who Thursday is, you’ll know who Robert Facchetti is, you’ll probably know the name of Andre’s father.
Andre: I ain’t even know that shit!!!
Joey: You have absolutely no chance in this match, in a team full of weakness you are undoubtedly the weakest. You guys will come after Andre as our weak link but it’s not even slightly the case, I wouldn’t have allowed myself to share the team with someone who I don’t consider capable enough to slap seven shades of shit out of 99% of the roster.
Andre: Bruh, muh feels.
Joey: You, Game are so unbelievably outmatched in this one. It’s almost embarrassing what we’re going to do to you.
Jared: I’m also unbelievably outmatched in ‘hype man’ comments so far.
Andre: Also outmatched in length and girth, ya dig?
Joey: Well James, game recognise game, and holy shit you’re looking pretty damn see through right now. Well Samus, get ready for the fucking beatdown, I’ll rip ya Metroid suit off and expose you as a bitch. You guys absolutely fucking suck, my squad will destroy yours, I’ve got a team full of animals like I’m playing Starfox – nerd references, see I do that better than you as well. You’re a WoW fan, colour me surprised, well this ain’t shared XP when the Dag Riddik Gang are levelling your team.
Jared: Joey, I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this before-
Joey: Go on.
Jared: You are a fucking geek…
Joey: And?
Jared: Add me on Steam. 6ixGodShark. Let’s get some CS:GO popping.
Andre: Ayyyyyy I’m mean with that big green my nig, shit is cray how I let that AWP work. While I play I always smoking that bomb like a ninja defuse…ayy how about it? Let’s get a clan up in here, nigga I used to play with that nigga KSharp, big homie bullseye, you know how it work, I’m a fuckin CAL-I star nigga.
Joey: Uhh, I’ll think about it.
Andre: Ayooooo that shit crazy. Ayo so what should we be called? I think-
Joey: I need to take a piss.
Jared gave Joey the ‘don’t leave me here, this motherfucker is going to spend the next five minutes talking about Counter-Strike’ look. Joey smiled, and toddled off to relieve himself. There was no need to wade through the sea of humanity clogging the main area of the bar; their little cordoned off clubhouse had been worth the money, he didn’t think he had it in him today to face any fans who wanted pictures or autographs. He was not in the mood for revelry.
Flash pushed the door to the ensuite bathroom and staggered inside. The place looked and smelt positively pristine, no stale beer, semen, vomit and urine. Finally a bathroom that didn’t smell like Logan, this definitely WAS worth the money. He took a seat on the porcelain throne and dropped one hell of a Dag Riddik, it landed with a satisfying plop: this would be a one wiper. This was a good day. Joey’s peaceful shit was interrupted by a ping from his phone. Pulling the iPhone 6 from it’s sheath of his pants pocket he opened the Facebook chat head.
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He re-pocketed his phone and gave a flush. This was a fucking no wiper. Live a little. He wasn’t a complete Logan though, he at least washed his hands – basic personal hygiene fuck yeah! Walking back across the VIP area Andre Aquarius was excitedly unloading on a very bored Jared Holmes who from the looks of the empty rocks glass on the table in front of him had taken to haze the boredom under the watchful gaze of his favourite bedfellow, intoxication.
Andre: -so I rolled up on that nigga all silent, I was like Tenchu Stealh Assassin nigga, this fool running like an elephant so I spam the shit out of the hut and bam down he goes for the second round on a wall I murked that guy through the fuckin’ wall. Nigga was furious all like ‘HACKING FUCKING NIGGER THAT’S ALL YOU GUYS ARE GOOD FOR, CHEATING AND RUINING THINGS FOR OTHERS’ I told that guy to peace out but lil motherfucker just wouldn’t stop. Sent me a message on Steam telling me he’d ‘DDoS’ me, I was like ayo I don’t even know what the fuck that shit is fall back nerd. Lil nigga fell back right quick.
He fumbles with his own phone and shows Jared to show him the profile of the harassing, tedious, annoying, repetitive racist faggot.
Jared: So his clan is…the Klan?
Andre: Furreal doe.
Flash sits back down at the table alongside his team mates.
Joey: What did I miss?
Andre: BRUH! I was just telling Jared-
Jared snapped at Andre.
Jared: Yes. He heard.
Joey: Time for the #fuccboigenocide to begin anew.
Jared: That’s my gimmick.
Joey: For one night only, it’s OUR gimmick. Let me borrow it to kill Dag Riddik?
Jared: Kill away.
Joey: Dag Riddik. I asked this question the last time we faced each other. Now I’m going to put it to Prince Lightskin and Los Tiburones - How badly should I destroy this guy?
I’ll give you guys options.
A) Roast him, make him a laughing stock.
B) Go in, make him question his career.
C) Total annihilation, make him question his life.
Jared: How about give him D, he gets that every night from Logan anyway.
Andre: HAHA SHIT, got heeeeeeeem.
Flash muses and nods affirmative.
Joey: Aight, I’ll run balls so deep into this guy’s sphincter my dick he’ll be spitting my spunk into his crusty ass beard.
Andre: Pause.
Jared: No homo.
Joey: So this is a match you’ve been waiting for huh? You want your rematch with daddy Flash, little Daggy wants to prove that the last time I stomped the fuck out of you was a complete fluke and that the embarrassing one sided loss you suffered was ‘luck’. Well fuck, the team that tooled your worthless shitshow team over doesn’t even exist anymore; I’m standing tall with two completely new guys and guess what the outcome of this one is going to be? Yep, you getting ya fuckin noggin busted up again. It doesn’t matter what partners I have Dag, the fact I am on this team is reason alone you are going to lose this week. It’s not even close to being a contest.
You guys are supposed to be the team, supposed to be smooth, seamless, set of superstars who use their cohesion to run through everyone, how’s it feeling though? In one week we’ve shown that our trio is already the slickest set of motherfuckers in the entire company, this is a fact. We have absolutely no issues with each other – you have problems with The Game – we are sat here roasting you fools together like it ain’t even a thing. You with your great long term planning, you sure done made a good little ploy didn’t ya. There was one single issue that could have splintered us heading to this goal, that shiny piece of gold around my waist, the match at Asesinato De Mayo. Now though? All you’ve done is focus our efforts in one direction, yours.
How’s that 6-7 record treating your superiority complex? Maybe the crippling self-loathing is overriding that shit at the moment ya fuckin bum. You have compiled a record so bad the 76ers are impressed with how well you fuckin tank. It’s not even like you’ve managed that shit against quality opposition, it’d be one thing if you running against a murderers row of straight up killers but nah you’re facing the likes of fucking Cormack MacNeill, the fact you are struggling against legit bottom feeders of this federation makes me want to face palm almost as badly as watching Logan interact with women.
Andre: Socially awkard ass nigga!!!
Jared: Would probably be a virgin if he wasn’t a serial molester and/or rapist. He’s the type to drop a dick pic with ‘Rate my cock’ as an opening message on Tinder. His game is as worthless as his partner of the same name.
Andre: Hah, got heeem, you warming up mah nig.
Joey: Dagvald Riddik-Cooper, the true international champion. The man who adds prestige to the belt by actively avoiding any fucking challenge possible for the title, you and Logan are a match made in faggot heaven. Occulo has been calling your name for a month now and yet you persist to fight bum after bum, I wonder what’s next oh I know, I bet Cormack as a ‘rematch clause’ – yeah, because you fucking made Seth add it to the contract. Hey Seth can I have a twenty match rematch clause with Cormack MacNeill please? Sure Dag, whatever you want – deposit semen now. It seems that you don’t understand the true competition that is out there for the belt you hold. You think you’re struggling to find competition huh?
Well I’ve got an offer for you; I could do with another worthless piece of metal as a weed plate. Sicilian born and bred – Joseph Malignaggi has a penchant for ethering worthless queers, might as well fuck about and take the thing that you hold most dear. That said, I don’t think you’re going to make it that far. Not even close, I’m going to fucking ruin you on Sunday. I’m going to beat you so excruciatingly that even Thor Balfore will be able to mop the floor with what I leave. Here is my gift to the WCF Universe, Dag Riddik’s mangled body thrown at the feet of Thor Balfore – when you hear the bell ring and Kyle Steel scream ‘and neeeeeeeeeeeeew’ it won’t be your recurring wet dream of what happened last Sunday, but it’s going to be the most embarrassing reality possible. Dag Riddik loses to a jobber, I don’t just predict it, no, I’m going to fucking ruin you, I guarantee it.
How do you manage it Dag? How do you manage to talk so much shit and back it up with so little? I ran my mouth from day one; I challenged everyone in the company and guess what? Not a soul would dare step in the ring with me. Beckman refused, Cairo refused and still here was Joey Flash telling them ‘Yep, I’m better than you both – prove me wrong’ not once did they even let my name cross their lips. That, Dagvald, is how you make your mark, not through annoyance, but through fear.
Instead, the opposite is happening with you. You make an open challenge, about five guys respond and you refuse to fight every fucking one of them. I bet you’re rushing around trying to forge an Adam Young passport, yellow his skin and slant his eyes then face ‘Adam Chung’ in a best of five set of matches over the summer. You are a fucking joke. I wonder how you’re going to react to what happens to you this week? I wonder how you’re going to take bearing the brunt of the senseless massacre coming your way? There is no positive spin you can put on this, there is not an ounce of no-selling to be done when you get beaten straight up, mano a mano…again. You are not a match for me, you’re not even a thought for me, you Dagvald are naught but a gnat. Bottom of the card fodder, I’m going to affirm your place, the place that your bravado is trying so hard to convince your subconscious knowledge that you’re better than. You are my opening act, you are a curtain jerker and you have never once in your career shown me anything beyond that. You are a fucking robot in the ring, you have no talent, no creativity, no drive, no passion, no versatility, you rehash the same tired old moves just like rehash the same bland drab drivel on the internet every single day. Keep slurping the dick of those who you think can help you to a push, that doesn’t make you seem like a desperate attention seeking faggot at all.
Andre: BEEP BEEP NIGGA.
Jared: Huh?
Andre: SARCASM ALERT, GOT HEEEEEEM.
Joey: Every time you make a post another line is added to the anthology I’m putting together for you, it will serve you beautifully as your autobiography. Dag Riddik – How to Lose Friends and Alienate People. Is it a personal choice to be such a massive throbbing cock? You’re the first person in my study, so consider yourself Subject Zero in this, were you born a massive cunt or did you just turn out like this? You are not a good wrestler Dagvald, you are up there with the worst in the federation with a mouth that just about keeps you afloat. Well I’m popping your water wings this week and I’m going to press my foot down on the back of your head and drown you in all the bullshit you’ve been blathering on about for the past six months. You fucking bum, this is what I do to faggots who dare mention my name and think they can get shine from my ethereal glow. You might be able to slob on sloppy white trash ‘boudle’ dick but you aren’t even so much as getting a hair caught in your teeth from me pushing your thirsty ass away fuckboy. This is total annihilation, this is the destruction of your false reality that you and Logan have painted, the way you talk it’s like you’re right up there with gods and in complete control. Sorry, this is the severe brutal wakeup call that is long awaited (Well at least since I last pushed your shit in), I’ve told you time and time again that you are beyond the realm you are allowed in, some things just aren’t meant to be. I think young Icarus is flying awfully close to the sun right now, it’s right about…
Joey theatrically glances at his watch.
Joey: Now that you feel the hot wax burning your shoulders and begin your descent into oblivion. Your one lesson to learn from this: don’t you ever throw rocks at the sun; you will never, ever be able to reach it.
P.S. The most fame you have ever gotten / will ever get is from the parody team name we took from your terrible self. The Dag Riddik Gang about to smash the shit out of Dag Riddik, that’s the definition of the best advice I’ve ever given to you bro: Kill yourself, faggot.
Andre: GO IN NIGGA!
Jared Holmes begins to lightly slap his porcelain palms together in applause.
Jared: That was beauti-
A ping from Jared’s pocket this time stops him. With an exacerbated sigh he plucks his phone from his inside jacket pocket.
Andre: Ayyy you lookin suave as shit my G.
Jared’s expression turns from shock to disgust to delighted glee. He takes a deep breath.
Jared: Gentlemen. You won’t believe it.
Andre: Shieeet making a nigga guess? Ay, I got you, Torture wack ass is gonna be the one facing Logan at the next PPV?
Jared: That’s fucking idiotic, no. Better.
Joey: Just tell us.
Jared: Logan sent a picture of his dick to my girlfriend.
Andre: BRUH
Jared: She has been messaging him at my behest for the past week via DM on instagram. ‘BoudleBitch69’ – I even took the shots of her in the negligée.
Andre: Let a nigga see that shit.
Jared turns the phone toward Andre, Joey on cue hops right behind Andre and the two stare at the slender Thursday Kerrigan posed in several different scenarios, virginal Red Riding Hood with six inch heels to offset all the way to hands taped, gagged but with a wanting look in her eyes. Andre damn near smashed the table over with how quickly his horse cock swelled with amorous blood. Joey had already seen enough of The Queen of Blades to last him a lifetime and backed away.
Jared: This thirsty faggot just can’t stay away. I wanted to test him for weakness, now he’s champion and all I figured maybe he’d be a tough nut to crack, seems he is more willing to nut the moment he sees a crack himself. Wanna see?
Andre: Is Dag Riddik a fuckin faggot? What kinda stupid shit is that, show me that weakass white meat.
Joey: Fuck it. Hit me.
Jared flicks his thumb twice across the screen before bringing up the sight of Logan’s penis.
Joey: Is this erect or flaccid, I don’t even…
Andre: Ayyyyy imagine this guy fuckin, would be like throwing a chipolata down a hallway.
Jared Holmes face went from laughter to serious in one swift movement and his voice took on a more serious tone.
Jared: Now boys, here is the question…
Then straight back to being a roasting motherfucker.
Jared: …what do we do with Logan’s dick?
Joey: We do with Logan’s dick exactly what he does.
Andre: Nigga wut?
Joey: Absolutely nothing.
Andre: Got heeeeeeem, nigga never dipped that tip.
Joey holds his hand out like a conductor.
Andre: Ay, dis nigga finna shoot on a weak ass faggot.
A smile crept across Joey’s face as he drew a breath inward.
Joey: So Logan, you’re the new World Champion. You pinned Joey Flash in the middle of the ring. Congratulations.
Joey claps, and claps, and claps, and claps and destroys.
Joey: I wonder what you thought would happen following this outcome? Maybe ‘hyuk hyuk this Flash guy will be so mad and run away’ that didn’t happen I’m still here and I’m set to decimate you this week. Maybe ‘nyak nyak I am the king troll no one can stop me. Let’s collude with Seth to try to get myself over because I in no way can manage that myself HotdogHiatusCooper’ nope, I ran you off the internet within seconds, you have absolute nothing for me you autistic ass motherfucker.
Oscar Wilde said sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, well if that poor bastard lived to listen to any shit you ever say he’d be changing his tune in an instant – overused nonsensical catchphrases and sexually deviant, predatory, Chris Hansen bait. Do people laugh with you? Have people ever laughed with you Logan? Somehow I don’t think so. You aren’t just the joke; you’re the fucking punch line.
This is what you wanted r-r-r-right? LOGAN DA BESS. ‘I pinned Joey Flash I’m the best’ HAH HAH HAH. How does it feel to be a week into your legacy defining reign and to be thought of as nothing but a storyline determined joke? Fuck the bravado, you want acceptance, you want people to stop seeing the Hotdog King, stop seeing the faggot who dressed up as Sarah Twilight and tried to fuck Steve Orbit, you’re a Hall of Famer, a fucking legend dammit! Where is your fucking respect? In the gutter with your self-esteem you fucking queer.
Let me ask you a question Logan. How good do you think you are? Seriously. Do you think you are the best wrestler in the world? Do you think you outstrip me by several paces? I’m a bum, I’m a chump. Then prove it. Put your ‘World Title’ on the line on Sunday. Oh, no? What’s wrong? No, you don’t have that type of confidence, I mean, I wouldn’t if I was a sloppy, idiotic bitch like you either, but still, where is your pride as a man? Oh right, you gave that up when cross-dressing, okay.
I put my title of ‘best in the world’ on the line every single week, here is your chance Logan. Everyone in the world doubts you, everyone thinks you’re a back biting snake who can’t earn anything from his own talent and skill, prove them wrong, prove ME wrong. I think the exact fucking same. You are pure unadulterated fucking trash. I was willing to put my title on the line every single week of this tournament for the sheer reason of ‘It would be pretty fun to give people a chance’ you refuse because ‘It would be pretty fun to give no one a chance’ – you play it off as being above this, like no one is a contest. The reality is you will lose the first time you ever defend that belt. This is the calibre of athlete that you are, an apathetic front running bitch who needs his ego stroked every two seconds in order to manifest any courage then crumble under any sign of adversity.
This is the difference between you and the best wrestler in the world. The first week following the most humiliating loss of my career (yep, it’s no longer Grime, the fact I lost the World Title to such a spunk knuckled cunt is even worse. Think about that Logan, you are worse than Grime. Also, Grime would actually beat you in a match, this is how bad you are) I’m straight back and straight up bodying that very same person like it’s not even a problem. Let’s get to it.
I have dismantled you every single time we have fought. Straight up crushed you, wrecked you, and made you my bitch. Had you begging for mercy on your dusty ass knees. Every single time I’ve taken it easy on you.
Now though?
Joey smiles.
Joey: Seth signed your DNR a long time ago; I’m going to make that shit a reality. This is not how I wanted your career to end. I wanted you to slink away as a Hotdog King, the funny fat unathletic guy who everyone likes, but everyone knows that’s their niche and they should stick to that shit. You however? Delusions of mass grandeur, you fucked over Mayhem because of a single whiff of vagina juice. I dread to think what you’d do for a pity handjob. Please note: I don’t give a fuck about your career before I came into the federation, I can only go by what is shown to me and even now you come across as an idiotic, unintelligent try-hard who is trying to cling on to the last remnants of worth in his life.
You are like the last remains of a bad stench just clinging to the curtains of a refurbished room. Seth is there with the spray thinking to himself ‘I probably should get rid of this shit, It’s been stinking up my life for so long and its parasitic presence adds nothing of value…but it was so comforting when I was growing up’. That’s why just like a blankie or a pacifier he turns back to you, old worn out cumsock that you are. You can’t succeed in this current era, you can’t even make it beyond the midcard, yet your ego hauls you over to Seth and you whisper in his ear ‘I think Logan would beat this guy right? I mean Bruno Sammartino would beat Daniel Bryan…right?’ Oh shit, we mentioned that other company again, sorry Game. I need to stop doing that.
So your whisper becomes reality, well here is my whisper to you Logan Cooper.
‘You are fucking terrible’
You want to compare teams? You are the ‘best’ on your team and not for a single second would I trade Andre Aquarius for you. You are a Grade A bum. Everything ‘successful’ you have done this year has been shrouded in controversy, when controversy is used it usually means ‘WHAT THE FUCK WHY? THAT’S SO STUPID’…this is no exception. When have you EVER proved anything in the modern WCF? When have you ever beaten a top tier savage one on one? I’ve killed you time and time again, Dune would wipe the floor with you and Jared-
Jared: I think we know the outcome already.
Joey: This is the sad reality, Seth will probably try and protect you from facing Jared for the World Title, and you won’t think anything of it. He will tell you ‘Oh, he’s just a jobber, you’re too good Logi-bear’ the pair of you will try to bullshit the next two months, maybe you’ll face a perfunctory jobber, maybe you’ll have the biggest match that no one gives a flying fuck about and pit shit irrelevant jobber Logan vs shit irrelevant jobber Torture. Let’s fill the arena. Oh shit, Greg Valentine is facing Tatanka at a bar ten minutes away ahh fuck it, I think I prefer that. Just what we want to see, two old motherfuckers shouting at each other about shit that happened ten years ago.
Logan will never face Joey Flash, Logan will never face Jared Holmes, Logan will never face Andre Aquarius. I have a rematch clause; I could snap my fingers and demand a rematch this very week. But no, it’s not my shit anymore. You made your bed of bullshit Seth Russo, you’re turning fans away, you’re thumbing down the future while tonguing down the past.
Logan. You are fucking worthless. You are the most irrelevant World Champion since I’ve been here. Jay Omega has also been World Champion in this time period. You are a transitional nostalgia wank, you have absolutely nothing against the current generation of WCF stars. You are fucking dogshit. Prove me wrong or live with the hollow sadness knowing that A) You are fucking dogshit and even worse, but I guess it’s not so out of the norm for you B) You are a complete bitch and coward. You can’t ever beat me, I’m going to whitewash you this week and no – you can’t get a rematch you ‘trashcan boudle’ LMFAO. God even your catchphrases are fucking trash, have you been watching Hey Arnold! Reruns for the past ten years of your life? That’s where your intellect lies.
Here is the difference between me and you; here is the difference between me and everyone else in the history of this company. You are struggling at this level, you are taking deep breaths, you are digging down as deep as possible, and you’re hitting Google in hopes of finding anything to help. At this level I am on complete cruise control, I am dismantling you and I’m doing it on whim. You are done Logan, it’s over. Bodybags on deck. You’re done.
CUT…
…OF COUSE NOT FAGGOT, M-M-MONSTER KILL.
Joey: God you actually thought that was as bad as it was going to get for you? MAH GAWD stop the damn match already if that’s the case.
Andre: I ain’t interrupted a nigga for a fuckin minute mah G.
Joey: You just did, fucking idiot.
Andre: Ayyy got meeeeeeeeeeeeee.
Joey: I don’t hate you Logan, I don’t dislike you….I feel sorry for you. You are being used and abused by Lerch to further ‘storyline’. Though the storyline Lerch thinks people want is completely different from reality. Do we want an ‘old legend holds the title’ tale?
NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!!!!!!!!!
Maybe, if the old legend earned it. If the old legend was a good wrestler. If you were Jonny Fly in this position Logan, do you think people would be up in arms? Let me put in perspective as to how bad you are, as to how much everyone else in this industry thinks of you as a sloppy, unintelligent, unintelligible, unreliable fucking joke – Jayson Price won the World Title at Fifteen. No one cried, no one complained. Not a single fan was angry about that. Jayson Price won the World Title in 2016 and people LOVED IT, you? It’s not love, it’s not hate, it’s even worse - it’s apathy. You’re a drunken faggot cutting into Torvill and Dean’s dance telling the fans ‘THIS IS HOW WE USED TO DOES IT!’ when everyone involved is just thinking ‘Fuck off, you’re shit and no one even likes you’. Well Logan, you legend you, in one year I’ve already achieved half of your achievements in your whole fifteen year career here. What does that tell you? No? Yeah you are pretty fucking dense aren’t you? An ode from Seth to you.
“You are a great wrestler, were an elite back in the day, a true Hall of Fame legend who dominated challenger after challenger and managed to continue to adapt throughout the WCF’s legacy, however a man joined last year who has a talent level unparalleled to anyone we have ever seen in the WCF. We incorrectly underestimated him by proclaiming him the next Fly; he’s more than that, so much more. He’s the future of the business, he’s the present of the business, right now he is everything – now let’s screw him over for OldBastard McFaggot’s sixth reign no one gives a shit about!”
Be happy I don’t care about the World Title. Be extremely happy, I could activate that ‘rematch clause’ shit and just dead you where you stand, but instead I’m going to chill. See for me, it’s not about the belt; I take one thing more serious than anything else, personal pride and disrespect. You tried to meekly step in my face like a pimply virginal teen stepping to Mike Tyson, now I’m shutting you completely down. The Family, The Game, The Biggest Trio of Troglodyte shit in WCF history, you are completely finished. This right here is a fucking benchmark. You want to compete Logan? Nonsensical blithering bullshit filled with “comedy” and meek impotent shoot isn’t going to work, ever. The bottom line (COS STONE COLD SAID SO): you are shit. You have always been shit. You just have never had to deal with wrestlers so beyond your level that it leaves you stumbling and stuttering to try assert your bird chested masculinity. You are the type of faggot who would let his girl be taken right in front of him and while she is crying at your feet after the deed step forward like ‘YEAH YOU BETTER RUN MOTHERFUCKER’.
The Family, The Game, complete trash. This whole promotional video has been an exercise in education. I’ve not done this to defeat you – that was a given anyway. I’ve not done this to make you feel like a group of embarrassed emasculated spastics – that was a given anyway. I have done this as a love letter to the fans, the fans who still believe in quality, the fans who still want to see intricate well told stories over bullshit short term wankfests, the fans who want to see the best wrestler in the world go balls deep in an old faggot, a nerd and a bearded cunt. Well, you’re going to get your wish.
I came for this match prepped to bury you guys, after last week? I’m shitting on your graves and spitting on your tombstones. You deserve absolutely nothing in this company and I’m going to ensure that you absolutely get what you deserve. I came looking for a body bag, but look what happened…I’m taking three home with me like I just hit a Grand Slam.
Andre: NIGGUH!
Joey: Bodybags on deck. Goodbye Team of Torture. You really are shit.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*LET THE RIGHT ONE IN~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
In an apartment a lifetime away Occulo hits the power button on his laptop. Dune had left him, Howard had left him, now he was the only one left. The only one left to uphold the beliefs of The Sentinels. It had always been him. He has been the constant. This Trios tournament was strange; he had no familiar partners, no trust, no camaraderie. For the first time in a long time, Occulo was alone.
A *ping* reminded him that he wasn’t alone, he rushed over to his laptop. It had been a while since someone had contacted him on this address. The contents of the email however? Made his chest tighten and made him wish he WAS alone.
"Heya John
Long-time no speak. I just thought I’d check in with you – first
thing’s first. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m sorrier for. I dunno
what to even say to you at this point, I feel like I’ve ruined
everything. Since War I’ve been feeling pretty destroyed to tell you the
truth, mind body and soul I’m just…broken. I don’t know how else to
describe it.
Jack took everything from me. I tried man, I really tried. For you, for Howard, for even Joey – no, especially Joey but I just couldn’t do it. It’s not like I’m trying to come up with excuses or anything, I should never have been the reason you lost the Trios titles. I feel like shit just thinking about it.
Just now I’m starting to get back into exercise; I’m not talking about fighting I’m talking about fucking moving lol. So like Freeman has me doing speed walking drills, I dunno if you’ve ever seen that shit but it looks like a speed addict hurrying to his next hit smfh. Anyway, I’m getting there, so you keep holding down the fort. It’s not been the best run for us, there tends to be only one of us healthy at a fucking time, it’s like we’ve been cursed.
I’d love to catch up some time, I’m not really fit for travel right now, and even if I was I look an absolute mess. God Pinky would kill me but I’d love you to come see me anytime really. Bring Bonnie, I cook a mean steak. Medium rare, wasn’t it?
I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you lately but please, if you can reply by the day’s end it would let me sleep easier.
Did you watch Joey’s match this week? He won, that was normal, but after it, did you see what happened with Logan? Tell me I’m not going crazy here. It would be a big big help. If you can find tape of it please get round to watching, pause at the moment that Joey locks in the Lightning Bolt.
*The video attachment begins to play*
What do you see?
Next to the boy with the ‘BATES + BOOT = ORBIT’ sign.
*The screen experiences a split second of glitched static before falling back into focus. We see a man who just looks…out of place*
LET
*A pinstriped suit, black shirt and crimson tie combo.*
Please, PLEASE tell me I’m just worrying for no reason.
ME
*The black Van Dyke facial hair drapes over a beautiful ivory smile. A smile full of joviality and knowing malice, a predatory grin of an animal ready to begin the hunt once more.*
Like, I’m having palpitations over here. I thought this was done, I thought this was over with. Please, John. Tell me this isn’t real. Tell me this isn’t what I think? Please.
IN.
‘Le Lion’ was awash with life and energy, the laugher and noxious pheromones made a cocktail in and of itself as men in bespoke Giorgio suits and women with red soled heels that would be pointing skyward by the time the clock hit midnight, Hispanic Cinderella in your sugar daddy funded dress and sickening Coco Chanel odour you shall go to the ball. The waiter, ‘Eduardo’ as was scribed on his name tag – the only thing he had always resented about working at the esteemed Robert Hess endorsed cocktail bar in the heart of Mexico City collected the three glasses from the bar and began to manoeuvre through the swath of flirtation, grinding and eye fucking stares .
The head charge of a hundred dollars kept the clientele select for the most part, it also kept the clientele a strictly macadamia hue. It pained him to see the pinnacle of the womenfolk from his city being vultured by the money and power of men under the veil of celebrity or opulence. The VIP section had been booked by one such man this evening, and for every Sunday night for the next three weeks. He stepped past the security to the secluded tiered VIP seating and rather than a raucous party of women, cocaine fuelled alpha mentality and copious discarded broken cocktail dreams there were only three men sat around a table at the rear of the spacious area that would on a good night hold up to a hundred people.
It provided a surreal dreamscape for Eduardo; the Trio couldn’t be any different. At one side sat a lithe light skinned Negro, a beaten slouching beanie perched atop his head was offset by the Saint Laurent combo of baby blue jacket and ripped skinny jeans finished off by some well-worn charcoal Tims. Opposite him, in every sense was an Aryan who as contrast to the languidness of his counterpart was upright in rigidity, you could have taken this man’s face and placed it on any of the men that came to ‘Le Lion’ and it would have fit – though Eduardo had the uneasy feeling that if you placed this man’s face on almost anyone, in any situation it would somehow ‘fit’. This face at this time was fitting in beautifully with a single breasted grey Armani suit and slacks with navy Brenson brogues – the way he stiffly shifted in his seat it gave the feeling that this man was dressing down for the night.
In the centre sat the most bizarre and outlandish of the three. From the looks of this third man he seemed to belong more on the streets panhandling than in this establishment, his jet black mane was encircled by a blue headband, with black hooded top and tight grey sweatpants topped off with some faded Nike Air Force 1’s. The mood seemed to be anything but joviality as Eduardo approached; the men were barely even looking at each other let alone having a good time. He lowered the drinks tray to the table and began to decant the beverages in front of each man. Straight neat Hennessey for the gentleman to the right, an Old Fashioned for the gentleman in the middle and for the man on the left a martini, stirred not-
Jared: You spilled a bit.
Eduardo looked upward to find the cold dead blue eyes hollowing his fortitude before he could even speak.
Eduardo: I…oh- I’m-
Jared: Clean it up.
The Negro spoke up.
Andre: Bruh, he didn’t spill-
The third man said nothing – just observed. Eduardo hastily reached into his breast pocket for his cloth.
Jared: No cloth.
Eduardo looked puzzled at the young blonde man sat in front of him, the next line was delivered with such quiet venom it could have melted a hole in the floor.
Jared: With your tongue.
Eduardo took a step backward, shocked, angered and disgusted.
Eduardo: You’re kidding sir I can’t-
Jared: You can, and will. Now. Clean my table.
The waiter tentatively stepped forward and peered toward the table squinting his eyes in the dim light, there was no spillage.
Eduardo: Sir, there isn’t-
With one deft move, Jared Holmes plucked his glass from the table and slammed it in a shattering maelstrom of pain into the face of Eduardo. Eduardo felt first blunt force pain flash through his nervous system then residual throbbing scraping piercing pain across his forehead as his vision hazed crimson. Jared Holmes stood above him, not an ounce of emotion even showing across the man’s face as he raised one of the brogues into view as the waiter collapsed to the floor.
‘So, that’s why he wasn’t wearing dress shoes’. With the footfall came darkness as Eduardo was sent into unconsciousness. Jared took a step back from the broken waiter and let out a deep breath before turning to face his compatriots. Andre stood up and squared up to his friend.
Andre: BRO stop it, what the fuck are you doing? Have you lost ya fuckin’ mind?
Jared turned to the still seated Joey Flash.
Jared: No. Not me. I haven’t lost; I haven’t lost a damn fucking thing. But you, you…
He points an accusatory finger across the table toward Joey before tensing his fingers and balling them into a fist, exploding in a barrage of the emotion he keeps bubbling under the lacquer masquerade visage.
Jared: You lost EVERYTHING. You are supposed to be the BEST, why are you losing? Why are you losing the most important thing in the company? I have lived the past year of my life to get to this point. Everything I have done here has been for you, because of you. I don’t care about anything else, anyone else, I went through three months of hell to fight YOU and you, at the last minute – this is what you do to me? I put my all into you, I trusted you, I believ-
Jared flops to his seat, regaining his composure before he compromises anything. Aquarius, sensing the situation somewhat diffused takes a step back and similarly sits back down. This time, it is Flash’s turn to rise. Ignoring Jared, he strides toward the fallen waiter and fumbles around in his hoodie pocket before producing a money clip; he counts off ten fifties and places them inside the breast pocket along with the man’s cloth before calling over to security.
Joey: Hey, security. This man needs to go to a hospital. All medical bills will be paid for by the tab by name of Jared Holmes.
Jared: You-
Joey holds a palm of defiance toward his partner and looks toward the broken Eduardo as the two burly security guys hoist him shoulderward and haul him off to be rushed to the hospital.
Joey: Sorry about my friend.
Flash turns to regard his Trios partners. This had been coming, Jared had been simmering ready to explode for the past few hours since they got backstage after Slam. The three had barely as much as exchanged a glance let alone words since then. For all the rage swirling inside of Jared Holmes, for all the disappointment nestling in the back of Andre Aquarius’ mind, the only thing Joey Flash felt was…numbness. From holding the master key to everything in the WCF he had been held up at gunpoint without so much as a knife to defend himself from the Lerch authorised assault of Bates and the grinning, manic wild briefcase wielding Logan. Everything moved in slow motion that night, from the Bates Boot to the cries of the crowd when Logan avoided the Lightning Bolt, landing deftly on his feet behind Joey it was at that point Joey’s Damoclesian rope was hanging by a thread. Even at this point there was no doubt in Joey’s mind that he couldn’t lose. Not him. Not now.
Time stopped in that instant. As Joey looked around the ringside area, he saw everything in crystal clear 4K vision, every detail on every face in the audience. The way the light reflected off the lenses of a bespectacled man in the front row, his mouth agape with shock as if stood by the procession car as John Kennedy was reeling from the shot that stopped the world – back, and to the left – back and, to the left, back and-
This was the feelings. Joey felt his chest convex in a breath and muscles tense almost to the point of tearing themselves apart as he prepared himself. Logan was finished. This was the time.
T H E W O R L D
Then, the tiniest flicker of moment in his dreamscape, the rising of a billowing smoke cloud floated from half way up the bleachers, it was so tiny and nigh on perceptible that he almost didn’t notice. Focusing on the smoke his eyes tracked downward to the source. Where everything was still, there was one man stood, watching, breathing and completely fluid in movement. The smoke billowed once more and the man removed the cigar from his mouth with a wide comic book smile. Jim Thuggin.
The strange man – no it was not a game for pretences anymore, the creature mouthed what should have been an inaudible whisper but to Joey Flash it boomed through the PA system like his voicebox was plugged in to the system itself.
“End of The World.”
1…
2…
3.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*TRANSMISSION START*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Audiolog intercepted; transcription from Pod 43, Sentient 1 to “Jalaxaritkatusain Salvation Program”
37590451 of the Astral Cycle
It is the worst case scenario. The Chosen Child and The Destroyer are set to face each other in one on one combat. This is a moment that has explicitly been neglected in the writings of Sage DM Crunk. Everything that has been scribed through the aeons has led to this moment right here, I have followed ‘The Galactic Prophecy’ since my gestation and it has been my single pathos in life to facilitate its fulfilment. Now I stand shakingly at the precipice of the unknown, there is no scripture detailing this point and beyond.
Joseph Malignaggi and Jared Holmes are the two souls we have been searching for our previous three millennia, through innumerable centuries of bleak dark nothingness and crossing an ocean of primitive life form after primitive life form we finally found them. Co-existing in the smallest of ponds in the Universe without so much as even knowing the connection that the two innately share.
Malignaggi is indeed dangerous, dangerous but not yet apocalyptic.
37590458 of the Astral Cycle: Early Crest
There is no way around it. I must intervene, this fight must be aborted. I have worked so hard for so long to let my hesitance hold back my instinct, the match between the pair is a month away, how can I put a stop to this? I will enter the Hall of Thoughtfulness in the mother base and pour over my thoughts.
37590458 of the Astral Cycle: Falling Light
I have found a loophole. The ability of The Destroyer is singular in its might as of current reporting. For the hours I have spent surveying the man in the ring there is a singular point in which he displays weakness, it is an exploit I can truly make the most of. I will turn his greatest strength, his celestial power shall be turned on itself. I just need to orchestrate an opportunity to remove him from the match with The Chosen One, there is one option – a man far too sloth of mind and body to do it alone. I will manipulate his puppet master and give them their prize on a silver platter, I will see Malignaggi fall.
Do you understand the term ‘Making a deal with the devil’? I did not understand this terminology on my earthbound existence. Today I fully comprehend – at my lowest ebb in psyche it happened. He happened. You were wrong about him Overseer. You were so, so wrong.
37590459 of the Astral Cycle: Mid Crest
It’s done; Malignaggi has been removed from the match with The Chosen One. Now we get to watch our prophesised destiny take shape.
Consume
Obey
I should be experiencing feelings of great happiness and joy. Why then, do I have a feeling deep inside that I just made the biggest mistake possible?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*TRANSMISSION END*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Life is Strange
Asian bitch with a flat ass.
Buck teeth.
Ugh, put a top on bitch.
#TRIGGLYPUFF
They were five drinks deep now. Andre had been swiping left for the past five minutes and was getting nowhere fast.
Andre: This shit is fuckin’ horrible. Mexico has the worst bitches ever, all I want is a main bitch that cooks, cleans and swallows, is that too much for a young nigga to ask? How did you guys manage?
Flash and Holmes exchange a look.
Joey: Luck.
Jared: Power.
Andre: So I need luck and power along with my horse dick? I done had that for like three months now.
Joey: Look, you want a good woman?
Andre: Yeah, I need a good bitch up in my shit.
Joey: A good bitch up in your shit, right. So, first you need to find someone to have mutual-
Joey’s wise advice was crushed.
Andre: DAMN I WOULD TONGUE DOWN THAT ASS! Ayo Jared, check it bruh.
An excited Andre holds his phone toward Jared who nods in placating agreement.
Jared: I’d fuck it.
Andre: Right? Damn ‘Carla’ you better get that mutual like in right quick my balls turning blue. Ay, so like, we’re facing the Team of Torture right?
Jared: Uhuh.
Andre: That’s Logan Cooper, Dag Cooper and who the fuck is this other guy?
Jared: How the fuck should I know?
Andre: Really, like I’ve searched around. I’ve Googled, Yahoo’d and even fuckin’ Ask Jeeves’d this nigga and nothing. I’ve tried asking around to find someone who knows someone who knows someone who knows of this nigga. Seth…who is this nigga?
Joey: It’s ‘The GAME Cooper’.
For the rest of this promotional video Jared Holmes and Andre Aquarius become the greatest hype men ever seen in this company
Andre: That’s a stupid fuckin name nigga.
Jared: Sounds like a Shaft villain of the week.
Joey: Let me start by welcoming you to the company. Hi The Game, congratulations you’ve won an award within your first month. Come on down, I’ll present you with the ‘Least creative name in wrestling award’. James Chevalier, you actually called yourself…’The Game’ – I…I don’t even. It’s like if I made my debut and Kyle Steel stepped up to announce me…
Kyle Steel: Introducing, weighting 220lbs, from The Bronx, New York…THE HEARTBREAK KID – Joeeeeeeyyyy Flaaash!
Joey: Within five minutes of this guy being on the roster he buried himself deeper than Logan’s credibility, masculinity, wit, intelligence and homosexual repression.
Andre: Damn this nigga digging for Australia.
Joey: Roasting session, I could spend about five hours just killing this poor sap without even dissecting his weak ass holy shit. You named yourself – ‘The Game’ aight, so plagiarism from other wrestling companies not withstanding this is an interesting name, so let’s dig how as to how this creative genius came up with his name.
Andre: We got a mothafuckin’ Da Vinci in here!
Joey: So this idiot is get this – ‘a gamer’. He legitimately named himself after a fucking HOBBY. Why don’t we all do that?
The Boning Thick Ebony Hoes
The Philanthropic Fashionista
The Line of Cocaine
Andre: Ay, got heeeeem.
Joey: What are you even doing here you doughy, podgy, pale faggot? You aren’t a wrestler by any stretch of the imagination. You look like the default ‘Create a Wrestler’ on WWF No Mercy. How about you stick to playing that shit rather than stepping into MY business, there are no save points, no retries, no continues in the professional wrestling business you can’t suddenly ragequit and throw your controller down like ‘FUCK JOEY FLASH JUST GAME ME BRAIN DAMAGE I NEED TO RESTART’ nope, you’re a fucking cabbage. You even stepping into the same ring as me is a disgrace, who signed off on your medical release to allow you to compete here? I guess the same soft, slow faggot who decided to back Logan and ‘The Family’ as contenders, that’s like watching the Kentucky Derby and betting on the lame three legged donkey that mistakenly got into the starting gate.
It was only last year Seth was watching me beating the fuck out of Logan and clapping like a spastic seal as I pushed that guys shit in time and time again. ‘You go Joey; I’m behind you all the way!’ What changed Seth? What did I do to make you leave me? Do you not believe in me anymore? I tried my best to live up to your hopes and aspirations for me, I had the best debut year in history, I’ve dominated the federation top to bottom without as much as breaking a sweat and I did it for you, for the faith you showed in me. You called me your next superstar and man, that meant something to me. Was it something I said? Was it something I did? Am I just not good enough for you?
Joey pauses for a moment and muses, sniffing at the air a little before a smile creeps across his face.
Joey: Oh shit! I guess the pencil necked faggot repellent is working fine after all.
Andre: Got heeeeeeeeeem!
Joey: ‘The Family’ is the most retarded stable in WCF history. This is a history that contains Pantheon. You went from ‘group of random heels’ to ‘bizarre stupid swamp family who fucked gators’ now to ‘generic authority type blandness’. I think I preferred it when Logan was going balls deep in a fucking crocodile. You’ve let Dag down something rotten Logi-bear Cooper (fucking fruitcake) you convinced him with so much wonder and joy to come to your side, ‘come on boy, we’ll have a good ol’ time, Mr Cooper will show you the way.’ Dag’s face lit up at this point. He only joined with you thinking he could enjoy
‘Hangin’ with Mr Cooper’
Now you fucking guys managed to convince this imbecile to join your ranks, when does the retardation stop? Well, probably when all three of you are dead – but that’s coming. What’s in this for you Game? What do you possibly have to gain from hanging out with these guys? What ideals do you share with Logan and Dag Riddik? Really, I’d like to know. I’m like, super interested.
Andre: Joey sarcasming!!!!
Joey: ‘Hmm this guy actively calls himself the ‘face of treachery’ and has betrayed and fucked over every single partner he has ever had in the history of the company – sounds like a trustworthy kinda fella, I’m in!’ Fuck sake. At least I’m unpredictable enough to team up with that it’s only like 90% certain I’ll end up beating the shit out of you.
Jared: Won’t happen.
Joey: But this guy is batting 1.000 for that shit. But no, your real excuse? You’re working as an informant on Dag Riddik.
Andre: Snitches get stiches!!
Joey: This shit barely even makes sense at this point. Motherfucker just because you logged a thousand hours into Goldeneye, that shit doesn’t make you James Bond. I bet you were that annoying cunt who always rushed to pick fucking Oddjob as well.
You are a complete fop. You picked an ideal time to debut as well, and it’s as if you’ve done all the research in the world. You join a team at the exact time they’re getting an undeserved, unwarranted, underwhelming push and hoping to bandwagon that shit all the way to success here. No long hard slogs for you eh Game? You want that fast road straight to the top! Well this is the match where you come crashing straight back to Earth in the most devastating way possible. You’re 2-0 and proud of that zero, I get it, I was too but you ain’t making it any further this is where your terrible little manufactured shitty start ends. But hey, who knows Game, for a rookie you sure know a lot about a lot. You picked your opponents apart last round with the precision of a Spencer Adams (you tried hard and did the best you could, but in the end still fucking sucked) I’m sure you’ll know a lot about me and my history, you’ll know who Thursday is, you’ll know who Robert Facchetti is, you’ll probably know the name of Andre’s father.
Andre: I ain’t even know that shit!!!
Joey: You have absolutely no chance in this match, in a team full of weakness you are undoubtedly the weakest. You guys will come after Andre as our weak link but it’s not even slightly the case, I wouldn’t have allowed myself to share the team with someone who I don’t consider capable enough to slap seven shades of shit out of 99% of the roster.
Andre: Bruh, muh feels.
Joey: You, Game are so unbelievably outmatched in this one. It’s almost embarrassing what we’re going to do to you.
Jared: I’m also unbelievably outmatched in ‘hype man’ comments so far.
Andre: Also outmatched in length and girth, ya dig?
Joey: Well James, game recognise game, and holy shit you’re looking pretty damn see through right now. Well Samus, get ready for the fucking beatdown, I’ll rip ya Metroid suit off and expose you as a bitch. You guys absolutely fucking suck, my squad will destroy yours, I’ve got a team full of animals like I’m playing Starfox – nerd references, see I do that better than you as well. You’re a WoW fan, colour me surprised, well this ain’t shared XP when the Dag Riddik Gang are levelling your team.
Jared: Joey, I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this before-
Joey: Go on.
Jared: You are a fucking geek…
Joey: And?
Jared: Add me on Steam. 6ixGodShark. Let’s get some CS:GO popping.
Andre: Ayyyyyy I’m mean with that big green my nig, shit is cray how I let that AWP work. While I play I always smoking that bomb like a ninja defuse…ayy how about it? Let’s get a clan up in here, nigga I used to play with that nigga KSharp, big homie bullseye, you know how it work, I’m a fuckin CAL-I star nigga.
Joey: Uhh, I’ll think about it.
Andre: Ayooooo that shit crazy. Ayo so what should we be called? I think-
Joey: I need to take a piss.
Jared gave Joey the ‘don’t leave me here, this motherfucker is going to spend the next five minutes talking about Counter-Strike’ look. Joey smiled, and toddled off to relieve himself. There was no need to wade through the sea of humanity clogging the main area of the bar; their little cordoned off clubhouse had been worth the money, he didn’t think he had it in him today to face any fans who wanted pictures or autographs. He was not in the mood for revelry.
Flash pushed the door to the ensuite bathroom and staggered inside. The place looked and smelt positively pristine, no stale beer, semen, vomit and urine. Finally a bathroom that didn’t smell like Logan, this definitely WAS worth the money. He took a seat on the porcelain throne and dropped one hell of a Dag Riddik, it landed with a satisfying plop: this would be a one wiper. This was a good day. Joey’s peaceful shit was interrupted by a ping from his phone. Pulling the iPhone 6 from it’s sheath of his pants pocket he opened the Facebook chat head.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Alessandra
I watched with Thursday. I don’t know what to say – I’m sorry smushkin. Call me. *hugs*
Joey
it is wut it is, im not mad just i dunno *smushhug* ill call u later i need to wind down a little
jared wants to get drunk but i dont care about that shit, i just want a hug and my head stroked =|
Alessandra
Wow! How cute are you? Lose World Titles more often please.
Just know that I love you very much, it doesn’t matter what happens in the ring you are always my champion – sorry I couldn’t be there to support you but if you’ll have us we can come down for your next match.
Joey
fucc that wudnt want u to witness three faggots getting legit murdered as part of a sport lmfao
Alessandra
Mmmmmm. How would you do it? Will you slide a knife slowly into the base of the spine? (the leg spasms are absolutely divine.)
Stretch one of them out over your shoulder and run the blade across their throat like you’re playing a violin. Piu, Piu Maestro <3
Joey
if the cops read this shit we would get fuccin arrested every week
Alessandra
Fuck em.
Joey
<3
Alessandra
Sorry, a dyslexic moment. Fuck me. Soon. Hard. My cunt aches for you.
Joey
Alessandra
Yum. A murder and that cock? What more could a girl want?
Joey
new louboutins and a face full of spunk?
Alessandra
I knew I married you for a reason.
Joey
bwahahaha rite, call u later bitch ciao bella xxxxx
Alessandra
*MWAH* xxxxx
I watched with Thursday. I don’t know what to say – I’m sorry smushkin. Call me. *hugs*
Joey
it is wut it is, im not mad just i dunno *smushhug* ill call u later i need to wind down a little
jared wants to get drunk but i dont care about that shit, i just want a hug and my head stroked =|
Alessandra
Wow! How cute are you? Lose World Titles more often please.
Just know that I love you very much, it doesn’t matter what happens in the ring you are always my champion – sorry I couldn’t be there to support you but if you’ll have us we can come down for your next match.
Joey
fucc that wudnt want u to witness three faggots getting legit murdered as part of a sport lmfao
Alessandra
Mmmmmm. How would you do it? Will you slide a knife slowly into the base of the spine? (the leg spasms are absolutely divine.)
Stretch one of them out over your shoulder and run the blade across their throat like you’re playing a violin. Piu, Piu Maestro <3
Joey
if the cops read this shit we would get fuccin arrested every week
Alessandra
Fuck em.
Joey
<3
Alessandra
Sorry, a dyslexic moment. Fuck me. Soon. Hard. My cunt aches for you.
Joey
Alessandra
Yum. A murder and that cock? What more could a girl want?
Joey
new louboutins and a face full of spunk?
Alessandra
I knew I married you for a reason.
Joey
bwahahaha rite, call u later bitch ciao bella xxxxx
Alessandra
*MWAH* xxxxx
He re-pocketed his phone and gave a flush. This was a fucking no wiper. Live a little. He wasn’t a complete Logan though, he at least washed his hands – basic personal hygiene fuck yeah! Walking back across the VIP area Andre Aquarius was excitedly unloading on a very bored Jared Holmes who from the looks of the empty rocks glass on the table in front of him had taken to haze the boredom under the watchful gaze of his favourite bedfellow, intoxication.
Andre: -so I rolled up on that nigga all silent, I was like Tenchu Stealh Assassin nigga, this fool running like an elephant so I spam the shit out of the hut and bam down he goes for the second round on a wall I murked that guy through the fuckin’ wall. Nigga was furious all like ‘HACKING FUCKING NIGGER THAT’S ALL YOU GUYS ARE GOOD FOR, CHEATING AND RUINING THINGS FOR OTHERS’ I told that guy to peace out but lil motherfucker just wouldn’t stop. Sent me a message on Steam telling me he’d ‘DDoS’ me, I was like ayo I don’t even know what the fuck that shit is fall back nerd. Lil nigga fell back right quick.
He fumbles with his own phone and shows Jared to show him the profile of the harassing, tedious, annoying, repetitive racist faggot.
“[KKK]NeO_Nord!c”
Jared: So his clan is…the Klan?
Andre: Furreal doe.
Flash sits back down at the table alongside his team mates.
Joey: What did I miss?
Andre: BRUH! I was just telling Jared-
Jared snapped at Andre.
Jared: Yes. He heard.
Joey: Time for the #fuccboigenocide to begin anew.
Jared: That’s my gimmick.
Joey: For one night only, it’s OUR gimmick. Let me borrow it to kill Dag Riddik?
Jared: Kill away.
Joey: Dag Riddik. I asked this question the last time we faced each other. Now I’m going to put it to Prince Lightskin and Los Tiburones - How badly should I destroy this guy?
I’ll give you guys options.
A) Roast him, make him a laughing stock.
B) Go in, make him question his career.
C) Total annihilation, make him question his life.
Jared: How about give him D, he gets that every night from Logan anyway.
Andre: HAHA SHIT, got heeeeeeeem.
Flash muses and nods affirmative.
Joey: Aight, I’ll run balls so deep into this guy’s sphincter my dick he’ll be spitting my spunk into his crusty ass beard.
Andre: Pause.
Jared: No homo.
Joey: So this is a match you’ve been waiting for huh? You want your rematch with daddy Flash, little Daggy wants to prove that the last time I stomped the fuck out of you was a complete fluke and that the embarrassing one sided loss you suffered was ‘luck’. Well fuck, the team that tooled your worthless shitshow team over doesn’t even exist anymore; I’m standing tall with two completely new guys and guess what the outcome of this one is going to be? Yep, you getting ya fuckin noggin busted up again. It doesn’t matter what partners I have Dag, the fact I am on this team is reason alone you are going to lose this week. It’s not even close to being a contest.
You guys are supposed to be the team, supposed to be smooth, seamless, set of superstars who use their cohesion to run through everyone, how’s it feeling though? In one week we’ve shown that our trio is already the slickest set of motherfuckers in the entire company, this is a fact. We have absolutely no issues with each other – you have problems with The Game – we are sat here roasting you fools together like it ain’t even a thing. You with your great long term planning, you sure done made a good little ploy didn’t ya. There was one single issue that could have splintered us heading to this goal, that shiny piece of gold around my waist, the match at Asesinato De Mayo. Now though? All you’ve done is focus our efforts in one direction, yours.
How’s that 6-7 record treating your superiority complex? Maybe the crippling self-loathing is overriding that shit at the moment ya fuckin bum. You have compiled a record so bad the 76ers are impressed with how well you fuckin tank. It’s not even like you’ve managed that shit against quality opposition, it’d be one thing if you running against a murderers row of straight up killers but nah you’re facing the likes of fucking Cormack MacNeill, the fact you are struggling against legit bottom feeders of this federation makes me want to face palm almost as badly as watching Logan interact with women.
Andre: Socially awkard ass nigga!!!
Jared: Would probably be a virgin if he wasn’t a serial molester and/or rapist. He’s the type to drop a dick pic with ‘Rate my cock’ as an opening message on Tinder. His game is as worthless as his partner of the same name.
Andre: Hah, got heeem, you warming up mah nig.
Joey: Dagvald Riddik-Cooper, the true international champion. The man who adds prestige to the belt by actively avoiding any fucking challenge possible for the title, you and Logan are a match made in faggot heaven. Occulo has been calling your name for a month now and yet you persist to fight bum after bum, I wonder what’s next oh I know, I bet Cormack as a ‘rematch clause’ – yeah, because you fucking made Seth add it to the contract. Hey Seth can I have a twenty match rematch clause with Cormack MacNeill please? Sure Dag, whatever you want – deposit semen now. It seems that you don’t understand the true competition that is out there for the belt you hold. You think you’re struggling to find competition huh?
Well I’ve got an offer for you; I could do with another worthless piece of metal as a weed plate. Sicilian born and bred – Joseph Malignaggi has a penchant for ethering worthless queers, might as well fuck about and take the thing that you hold most dear. That said, I don’t think you’re going to make it that far. Not even close, I’m going to fucking ruin you on Sunday. I’m going to beat you so excruciatingly that even Thor Balfore will be able to mop the floor with what I leave. Here is my gift to the WCF Universe, Dag Riddik’s mangled body thrown at the feet of Thor Balfore – when you hear the bell ring and Kyle Steel scream ‘and neeeeeeeeeeeeew’ it won’t be your recurring wet dream of what happened last Sunday, but it’s going to be the most embarrassing reality possible. Dag Riddik loses to a jobber, I don’t just predict it, no, I’m going to fucking ruin you, I guarantee it.
How do you manage it Dag? How do you manage to talk so much shit and back it up with so little? I ran my mouth from day one; I challenged everyone in the company and guess what? Not a soul would dare step in the ring with me. Beckman refused, Cairo refused and still here was Joey Flash telling them ‘Yep, I’m better than you both – prove me wrong’ not once did they even let my name cross their lips. That, Dagvald, is how you make your mark, not through annoyance, but through fear.
Instead, the opposite is happening with you. You make an open challenge, about five guys respond and you refuse to fight every fucking one of them. I bet you’re rushing around trying to forge an Adam Young passport, yellow his skin and slant his eyes then face ‘Adam Chung’ in a best of five set of matches over the summer. You are a fucking joke. I wonder how you’re going to react to what happens to you this week? I wonder how you’re going to take bearing the brunt of the senseless massacre coming your way? There is no positive spin you can put on this, there is not an ounce of no-selling to be done when you get beaten straight up, mano a mano…again. You are not a match for me, you’re not even a thought for me, you Dagvald are naught but a gnat. Bottom of the card fodder, I’m going to affirm your place, the place that your bravado is trying so hard to convince your subconscious knowledge that you’re better than. You are my opening act, you are a curtain jerker and you have never once in your career shown me anything beyond that. You are a fucking robot in the ring, you have no talent, no creativity, no drive, no passion, no versatility, you rehash the same tired old moves just like rehash the same bland drab drivel on the internet every single day. Keep slurping the dick of those who you think can help you to a push, that doesn’t make you seem like a desperate attention seeking faggot at all.
Andre: BEEP BEEP NIGGA.
Jared: Huh?
Andre: SARCASM ALERT, GOT HEEEEEEM.
Joey: Every time you make a post another line is added to the anthology I’m putting together for you, it will serve you beautifully as your autobiography. Dag Riddik – How to Lose Friends and Alienate People. Is it a personal choice to be such a massive throbbing cock? You’re the first person in my study, so consider yourself Subject Zero in this, were you born a massive cunt or did you just turn out like this? You are not a good wrestler Dagvald, you are up there with the worst in the federation with a mouth that just about keeps you afloat. Well I’m popping your water wings this week and I’m going to press my foot down on the back of your head and drown you in all the bullshit you’ve been blathering on about for the past six months. You fucking bum, this is what I do to faggots who dare mention my name and think they can get shine from my ethereal glow. You might be able to slob on sloppy white trash ‘boudle’ dick but you aren’t even so much as getting a hair caught in your teeth from me pushing your thirsty ass away fuckboy. This is total annihilation, this is the destruction of your false reality that you and Logan have painted, the way you talk it’s like you’re right up there with gods and in complete control. Sorry, this is the severe brutal wakeup call that is long awaited (Well at least since I last pushed your shit in), I’ve told you time and time again that you are beyond the realm you are allowed in, some things just aren’t meant to be. I think young Icarus is flying awfully close to the sun right now, it’s right about…
Joey theatrically glances at his watch.
Joey: Now that you feel the hot wax burning your shoulders and begin your descent into oblivion. Your one lesson to learn from this: don’t you ever throw rocks at the sun; you will never, ever be able to reach it.
P.S. The most fame you have ever gotten / will ever get is from the parody team name we took from your terrible self. The Dag Riddik Gang about to smash the shit out of Dag Riddik, that’s the definition of the best advice I’ve ever given to you bro: Kill yourself, faggot.
Andre: GO IN NIGGA!
Jared Holmes begins to lightly slap his porcelain palms together in applause.
Jared: That was beauti-
A ping from Jared’s pocket this time stops him. With an exacerbated sigh he plucks his phone from his inside jacket pocket.
Andre: Ayyy you lookin suave as shit my G.
Jared’s expression turns from shock to disgust to delighted glee. He takes a deep breath.
Jared: Gentlemen. You won’t believe it.
Andre: Shieeet making a nigga guess? Ay, I got you, Torture wack ass is gonna be the one facing Logan at the next PPV?
Jared: That’s fucking idiotic, no. Better.
Joey: Just tell us.
Jared: Logan sent a picture of his dick to my girlfriend.
Andre: BRUH
Jared: She has been messaging him at my behest for the past week via DM on instagram. ‘BoudleBitch69’ – I even took the shots of her in the negligée.
Andre: Let a nigga see that shit.
Jared turns the phone toward Andre, Joey on cue hops right behind Andre and the two stare at the slender Thursday Kerrigan posed in several different scenarios, virginal Red Riding Hood with six inch heels to offset all the way to hands taped, gagged but with a wanting look in her eyes. Andre damn near smashed the table over with how quickly his horse cock swelled with amorous blood. Joey had already seen enough of The Queen of Blades to last him a lifetime and backed away.
Jared: This thirsty faggot just can’t stay away. I wanted to test him for weakness, now he’s champion and all I figured maybe he’d be a tough nut to crack, seems he is more willing to nut the moment he sees a crack himself. Wanna see?
Andre: Is Dag Riddik a fuckin faggot? What kinda stupid shit is that, show me that weakass white meat.
Joey: Fuck it. Hit me.
Jared flicks his thumb twice across the screen before bringing up the sight of Logan’s penis.
Joey: Is this erect or flaccid, I don’t even…
Andre: Ayyyyy imagine this guy fuckin, would be like throwing a chipolata down a hallway.
Jared Holmes face went from laughter to serious in one swift movement and his voice took on a more serious tone.
Jared: Now boys, here is the question…
Then straight back to being a roasting motherfucker.
Jared: …what do we do with Logan’s dick?
Joey: We do with Logan’s dick exactly what he does.
Andre: Nigga wut?
Joey: Absolutely nothing.
Andre: Got heeeeeeem, nigga never dipped that tip.
Joey holds his hand out like a conductor.
Andre: Ay, dis nigga finna shoot on a weak ass faggot.
A smile crept across Joey’s face as he drew a breath inward.
Joey: So Logan, you’re the new World Champion. You pinned Joey Flash in the middle of the ring. Congratulations.
Joey claps, and claps, and claps, and claps and destroys.
Joey: I wonder what you thought would happen following this outcome? Maybe ‘hyuk hyuk this Flash guy will be so mad and run away’ that didn’t happen I’m still here and I’m set to decimate you this week. Maybe ‘nyak nyak I am the king troll no one can stop me. Let’s collude with Seth to try to get myself over because I in no way can manage that myself HotdogHiatusCooper’ nope, I ran you off the internet within seconds, you have absolute nothing for me you autistic ass motherfucker.
Oscar Wilde said sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, well if that poor bastard lived to listen to any shit you ever say he’d be changing his tune in an instant – overused nonsensical catchphrases and sexually deviant, predatory, Chris Hansen bait. Do people laugh with you? Have people ever laughed with you Logan? Somehow I don’t think so. You aren’t just the joke; you’re the fucking punch line.
This is what you wanted r-r-r-right? LOGAN DA BESS. ‘I pinned Joey Flash I’m the best’ HAH HAH HAH. How does it feel to be a week into your legacy defining reign and to be thought of as nothing but a storyline determined joke? Fuck the bravado, you want acceptance, you want people to stop seeing the Hotdog King, stop seeing the faggot who dressed up as Sarah Twilight and tried to fuck Steve Orbit, you’re a Hall of Famer, a fucking legend dammit! Where is your fucking respect? In the gutter with your self-esteem you fucking queer.
Let me ask you a question Logan. How good do you think you are? Seriously. Do you think you are the best wrestler in the world? Do you think you outstrip me by several paces? I’m a bum, I’m a chump. Then prove it. Put your ‘World Title’ on the line on Sunday. Oh, no? What’s wrong? No, you don’t have that type of confidence, I mean, I wouldn’t if I was a sloppy, idiotic bitch like you either, but still, where is your pride as a man? Oh right, you gave that up when cross-dressing, okay.
I put my title of ‘best in the world’ on the line every single week, here is your chance Logan. Everyone in the world doubts you, everyone thinks you’re a back biting snake who can’t earn anything from his own talent and skill, prove them wrong, prove ME wrong. I think the exact fucking same. You are pure unadulterated fucking trash. I was willing to put my title on the line every single week of this tournament for the sheer reason of ‘It would be pretty fun to give people a chance’ you refuse because ‘It would be pretty fun to give no one a chance’ – you play it off as being above this, like no one is a contest. The reality is you will lose the first time you ever defend that belt. This is the calibre of athlete that you are, an apathetic front running bitch who needs his ego stroked every two seconds in order to manifest any courage then crumble under any sign of adversity.
This is the difference between you and the best wrestler in the world. The first week following the most humiliating loss of my career (yep, it’s no longer Grime, the fact I lost the World Title to such a spunk knuckled cunt is even worse. Think about that Logan, you are worse than Grime. Also, Grime would actually beat you in a match, this is how bad you are) I’m straight back and straight up bodying that very same person like it’s not even a problem. Let’s get to it.
I have dismantled you every single time we have fought. Straight up crushed you, wrecked you, and made you my bitch. Had you begging for mercy on your dusty ass knees. Every single time I’ve taken it easy on you.
‘Well he probably doesn’t know what he’s up against’
‘Poor bastard, he has nothing else in life I’ll let him live’
‘Poor bastard, he has nothing else in life I’ll let him live’
Now though?
Joey smiles.
Joey: Seth signed your DNR a long time ago; I’m going to make that shit a reality. This is not how I wanted your career to end. I wanted you to slink away as a Hotdog King, the funny fat unathletic guy who everyone likes, but everyone knows that’s their niche and they should stick to that shit. You however? Delusions of mass grandeur, you fucked over Mayhem because of a single whiff of vagina juice. I dread to think what you’d do for a pity handjob. Please note: I don’t give a fuck about your career before I came into the federation, I can only go by what is shown to me and even now you come across as an idiotic, unintelligent try-hard who is trying to cling on to the last remnants of worth in his life.
You are like the last remains of a bad stench just clinging to the curtains of a refurbished room. Seth is there with the spray thinking to himself ‘I probably should get rid of this shit, It’s been stinking up my life for so long and its parasitic presence adds nothing of value…but it was so comforting when I was growing up’. That’s why just like a blankie or a pacifier he turns back to you, old worn out cumsock that you are. You can’t succeed in this current era, you can’t even make it beyond the midcard, yet your ego hauls you over to Seth and you whisper in his ear ‘I think Logan would beat this guy right? I mean Bruno Sammartino would beat Daniel Bryan…right?’ Oh shit, we mentioned that other company again, sorry Game. I need to stop doing that.
So your whisper becomes reality, well here is my whisper to you Logan Cooper.
‘You are fucking terrible’
You want to compare teams? You are the ‘best’ on your team and not for a single second would I trade Andre Aquarius for you. You are a Grade A bum. Everything ‘successful’ you have done this year has been shrouded in controversy, when controversy is used it usually means ‘WHAT THE FUCK WHY? THAT’S SO STUPID’…this is no exception. When have you EVER proved anything in the modern WCF? When have you ever beaten a top tier savage one on one? I’ve killed you time and time again, Dune would wipe the floor with you and Jared-
Jared: I think we know the outcome already.
Joey: This is the sad reality, Seth will probably try and protect you from facing Jared for the World Title, and you won’t think anything of it. He will tell you ‘Oh, he’s just a jobber, you’re too good Logi-bear’ the pair of you will try to bullshit the next two months, maybe you’ll face a perfunctory jobber, maybe you’ll have the biggest match that no one gives a flying fuck about and pit shit irrelevant jobber Logan vs shit irrelevant jobber Torture. Let’s fill the arena. Oh shit, Greg Valentine is facing Tatanka at a bar ten minutes away ahh fuck it, I think I prefer that. Just what we want to see, two old motherfuckers shouting at each other about shit that happened ten years ago.
Logan will never face Joey Flash, Logan will never face Jared Holmes, Logan will never face Andre Aquarius. I have a rematch clause; I could snap my fingers and demand a rematch this very week. But no, it’s not my shit anymore. You made your bed of bullshit Seth Russo, you’re turning fans away, you’re thumbing down the future while tonguing down the past.
Logan. You are fucking worthless. You are the most irrelevant World Champion since I’ve been here. Jay Omega has also been World Champion in this time period. You are a transitional nostalgia wank, you have absolutely nothing against the current generation of WCF stars. You are fucking dogshit. Prove me wrong or live with the hollow sadness knowing that A) You are fucking dogshit and even worse, but I guess it’s not so out of the norm for you B) You are a complete bitch and coward. You can’t ever beat me, I’m going to whitewash you this week and no – you can’t get a rematch you ‘trashcan boudle’ LMFAO. God even your catchphrases are fucking trash, have you been watching Hey Arnold! Reruns for the past ten years of your life? That’s where your intellect lies.
Here is the difference between me and you; here is the difference between me and everyone else in the history of this company. You are struggling at this level, you are taking deep breaths, you are digging down as deep as possible, and you’re hitting Google in hopes of finding anything to help. At this level I am on complete cruise control, I am dismantling you and I’m doing it on whim. You are done Logan, it’s over. Bodybags on deck. You’re done.
CUT…
…OF COUSE NOT FAGGOT, M-M-MONSTER KILL.
Joey: God you actually thought that was as bad as it was going to get for you? MAH GAWD stop the damn match already if that’s the case.
Andre: I ain’t interrupted a nigga for a fuckin minute mah G.
Joey: You just did, fucking idiot.
Andre: Ayyy got meeeeeeeeeeeeee.
Joey: I don’t hate you Logan, I don’t dislike you….I feel sorry for you. You are being used and abused by Lerch to further ‘storyline’. Though the storyline Lerch thinks people want is completely different from reality. Do we want an ‘old legend holds the title’ tale?
NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!!!!!!!!!
Maybe, if the old legend earned it. If the old legend was a good wrestler. If you were Jonny Fly in this position Logan, do you think people would be up in arms? Let me put in perspective as to how bad you are, as to how much everyone else in this industry thinks of you as a sloppy, unintelligent, unintelligible, unreliable fucking joke – Jayson Price won the World Title at Fifteen. No one cried, no one complained. Not a single fan was angry about that. Jayson Price won the World Title in 2016 and people LOVED IT, you? It’s not love, it’s not hate, it’s even worse - it’s apathy. You’re a drunken faggot cutting into Torvill and Dean’s dance telling the fans ‘THIS IS HOW WE USED TO DOES IT!’ when everyone involved is just thinking ‘Fuck off, you’re shit and no one even likes you’. Well Logan, you legend you, in one year I’ve already achieved half of your achievements in your whole fifteen year career here. What does that tell you? No? Yeah you are pretty fucking dense aren’t you? An ode from Seth to you.
“You are a great wrestler, were an elite back in the day, a true Hall of Fame legend who dominated challenger after challenger and managed to continue to adapt throughout the WCF’s legacy, however a man joined last year who has a talent level unparalleled to anyone we have ever seen in the WCF. We incorrectly underestimated him by proclaiming him the next Fly; he’s more than that, so much more. He’s the future of the business, he’s the present of the business, right now he is everything – now let’s screw him over for OldBastard McFaggot’s sixth reign no one gives a shit about!”
Be happy I don’t care about the World Title. Be extremely happy, I could activate that ‘rematch clause’ shit and just dead you where you stand, but instead I’m going to chill. See for me, it’s not about the belt; I take one thing more serious than anything else, personal pride and disrespect. You tried to meekly step in my face like a pimply virginal teen stepping to Mike Tyson, now I’m shutting you completely down. The Family, The Game, The Biggest Trio of Troglodyte shit in WCF history, you are completely finished. This right here is a fucking benchmark. You want to compete Logan? Nonsensical blithering bullshit filled with “comedy” and meek impotent shoot isn’t going to work, ever. The bottom line (COS STONE COLD SAID SO): you are shit. You have always been shit. You just have never had to deal with wrestlers so beyond your level that it leaves you stumbling and stuttering to try assert your bird chested masculinity. You are the type of faggot who would let his girl be taken right in front of him and while she is crying at your feet after the deed step forward like ‘YEAH YOU BETTER RUN MOTHERFUCKER’.
The Family, The Game, complete trash. This whole promotional video has been an exercise in education. I’ve not done this to defeat you – that was a given anyway. I’ve not done this to make you feel like a group of embarrassed emasculated spastics – that was a given anyway. I have done this as a love letter to the fans, the fans who still believe in quality, the fans who still want to see intricate well told stories over bullshit short term wankfests, the fans who want to see the best wrestler in the world go balls deep in an old faggot, a nerd and a bearded cunt. Well, you’re going to get your wish.
I came for this match prepped to bury you guys, after last week? I’m shitting on your graves and spitting on your tombstones. You deserve absolutely nothing in this company and I’m going to ensure that you absolutely get what you deserve. I came looking for a body bag, but look what happened…I’m taking three home with me like I just hit a Grand Slam.
Andre: NIGGUH!
Joey: Bodybags on deck. Goodbye Team of Torture. You really are shit.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*LET THE RIGHT ONE IN~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
In an apartment a lifetime away Occulo hits the power button on his laptop. Dune had left him, Howard had left him, now he was the only one left. The only one left to uphold the beliefs of The Sentinels. It had always been him. He has been the constant. This Trios tournament was strange; he had no familiar partners, no trust, no camaraderie. For the first time in a long time, Occulo was alone.
A *ping* reminded him that he wasn’t alone, he rushed over to his laptop. It had been a while since someone had contacted him on this address. The contents of the email however? Made his chest tighten and made him wish he WAS alone.
From: DanielSandsDune@gmail.com
To: JMullins99@hotmail.com
Subject: Help: Joey – Video attachment included
To: JMullins99@hotmail.com
Subject: Help: Joey – Video attachment included
"Heya John
Long-time no speak. I just thought I’d check in with you – first
thing’s first. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m sorrier for. I dunno
what to even say to you at this point, I feel like I’ve ruined
everything. Since War I’ve been feeling pretty destroyed to tell you the
truth, mind body and soul I’m just…broken. I don’t know how else to
describe it.
Jack took everything from me. I tried man, I really tried. For you, for Howard, for even Joey – no, especially Joey but I just couldn’t do it. It’s not like I’m trying to come up with excuses or anything, I should never have been the reason you lost the Trios titles. I feel like shit just thinking about it.
Just now I’m starting to get back into exercise; I’m not talking about fighting I’m talking about fucking moving lol. So like Freeman has me doing speed walking drills, I dunno if you’ve ever seen that shit but it looks like a speed addict hurrying to his next hit smfh. Anyway, I’m getting there, so you keep holding down the fort. It’s not been the best run for us, there tends to be only one of us healthy at a fucking time, it’s like we’ve been cursed.
I’d love to catch up some time, I’m not really fit for travel right now, and even if I was I look an absolute mess. God Pinky would kill me but I’d love you to come see me anytime really. Bring Bonnie, I cook a mean steak. Medium rare, wasn’t it?
I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you lately but please, if you can reply by the day’s end it would let me sleep easier.
Did you watch Joey’s match this week? He won, that was normal, but after it, did you see what happened with Logan? Tell me I’m not going crazy here. It would be a big big help. If you can find tape of it please get round to watching, pause at the moment that Joey locks in the Lightning Bolt.
*The video attachment begins to play*
What do you see?
Next to the boy with the ‘BATES + BOOT = ORBIT’ sign.
*The screen experiences a split second of glitched static before falling back into focus. We see a man who just looks…out of place*
LET
*A pinstriped suit, black shirt and crimson tie combo.*
Please, PLEASE tell me I’m just worrying for no reason.
ME
*The black Van Dyke facial hair drapes over a beautiful ivory smile. A smile full of joviality and knowing malice, a predatory grin of an animal ready to begin the hunt once more.*
Like, I’m having palpitations over here. I thought this was done, I thought this was over with. Please, John. Tell me this isn’t real. Tell me this isn’t what I think? Please.
IN.
