No More Heros Pt 1

[Odin Balfore]

WCF
SLAM

Odin Balfore
vs
Vincent Augustine

No More Heros  (Part 1)

wordcount: 3351

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Prologue 

Next week the crusade of Bonnie Blue comes to an end. Payback is next week and all the un-thick bullshit that has happened over the past few months, my actions are justified. My anger, my rage, my fury will be justified. I’ll meet her in the middle of the ring, sans guardians and lay her out. And if they decide to try and make a difference, I’ll make them famous. I’ll rip out their spines and whip them with it. Everyone forgets who the champion is. Everyone tends to forget the power that I weild and the world crushing domination that I possess. That's what this company needs. It doesnt need a leader. It needed what I gave it back in February. It needs to be picked up by the skull, have it face slammed into the concrete and dragged around like the meth whore that it really is. I thought that maybe with all of the new guys, things would be different and I’d have my respect based on the merit but clearly things in wrestling never change. 

Bad fucking move, WCF. Bad fucking move. 

My dominantion is clear. I destroyed the church, reduced Steven Singh to the mid card talent that he is and shelved both Dune and Mikey Extreme. Now, Bonnie Blue gonna wish she had that hystarectaomy. Cuz shes about to catch all the fuckin dick. I’m going to make the entire fed suck my dick. From Augustine this week, to Bonnie Blue ( yet a fuckin-gain ) then Noble Savage. Perhaps Savage will be the sweetest of all because shes been roaring in 2018. 

Only to whimper out in 2019. 

Somones dick is getting hard just thinking about it and spoilers: it me. 

You could call this a prologue WCF but in reality, its the same old story that I’ve been telling for years. 

More @11. 

LOL

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Chapter I: No More Heros

The ticking and thunking of a grandfather clock pendulum swaying back and forth can be heard. It is almost deafening considering the silent company that it keeps. Its tucked away between two large windows that are draped. Its dark but theres just enough ambient light to see shapes in the darkness.The room smells of cedar and is heavy in gloom. The cameras sweep from the floor at the door, leftwards, in towards the master bed, sweeping past the grandfather clock and lands at the foot of the large king sized bed. Odin Balfore stands over the bed, gripping something in his hands. There is a slight struggle, barely noticeable before Odin stands up, turns and walks out of frame with the camera looking down at his feet. 

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Chapter II: No Time for You

Vincent Augustine. You returned. Oh gee, I knew that I had leftovers in the fridge somewhere. Didnt know that I had to dig in the way, way back; back to six months ago. Smells a little rank, it must be butthurt. That's fine. I understand. They’re always a little butthurt afterwards. You beat some jobber last week. Guess I’m supposed to be impressed by that. Oh no, you hit a clothesline, quick, CD, get this man a contract STAT. 

You fucking pleb.

You should have headed your own words to that queer china-man in the dress. People, I.E, YOU come to WCF with your false realities thinking that your crumb bum gimmick and the shitiest clothesline I’ve seen since the public hanging Saddam Husain. 

You’ll fold under presser. Your spine will snap under the weight of my boot. Make no mistake about this. This will be your last match in WCF. I do not want you here for the same reason you claim to not want the others. 

YOU are looking for fame and fortune. Here you will only find pestilence and fatigue. 

YOU want to be hoisted up on the shoulders and triumphed and championed. Here, I will bury you in a shallow unmarked grave where I have buried every other Vincent Augustine for the past two decades. 

YOU are not special. 

YOU are not unique. 

YOU arnt even you. You’re just some jobber shit bum with two thumbs and a sense of coordination whose going to get a bigger check than he deserve this week because I’m going to powerbomb you so hard that its going to shatter your hips and sever your spin so bad that you’ll have to borrow Steven Singhs dick just to take a piss. I hear the club for that meets on Tuesdays. What I am sick of is guys like you that want to be guys like me knowing full well that, that will never happen. 

YOU walked away from this company six months ago for no reason. You should tell those people why. Then look me in the eyes and ask if I give a damn because my spoiler game is on point tonight. You are the very thing that you were crying about last week and honestly, I aint got time for you or it. You can take your pity party elsewhere. You won’t be able to fool, convince or turn me into a believer because I’ve known so many Vincent Augustine's and how their stories ended. 

I am the world champion and yah, I’m a dick. Get used to it or go fuck yourself. Either way I’m going to knock your skull clear off your shoulders with Surtrs Revenge and bury you right next to Teo Del Sols dignity and Bonnie Blues chances at Payback. Then at one, I’ll dig that up, throw the corpse of Noble Savage in there and bingo, at least post mortem, you won’t be a sweaty try hard weeaboo virgin no more. I seldom do favors but perhaps I’ll grant you that one.

On second thought, you deserve the kind of loser, incel life that you lead. I’m not here to pat you on the ass or tell you that you did a good job or that I look forward to the challenge that you present. You are not a challenge. I could beat you with a waxy crayon and half a pez. Like Night Rider you exist for me to showcase this belt one more time before I got out there on Pay Per View and showcase for those that actually paid around the world to see me. Because that's what this is. For twenty years, people all over the world have paid to see me and like a hooker, they just pay you to leave. 

Sunday night you have a J.O.B to do and if not, then you got a L.I.F.E to lose. Either way, I win. When you go out there and you see all those people and you feel all the emotions and you hear them chanting my name and singing my theme song - You’ll know that you’re fucked. I’m a different kind of a wrestler and an old type of God. I’m going to send you back to your own personal hell when Ragnarok comes calling and there is nothing you can do to stop it. 

Pray if you have too. Beg if you must but, know that I will not be listening. 

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Chapter III: The Old Gods 

Sit down. Join the them with a seat at the table. The room around you is blinding white. Glowing, radiant light, wisps of smoke and angelic muses singing gentle hymns. This is the table of Jam Willy Hey-Zues; a god beyond and above even that of Odin Balfore. He is Odins good friend and mentor. He sits in front of you in a bathrobe and white undershirt. His goatee is greying but groomed. He sipped on a white coffee mug as Odin comes into frame, sits down next to you and sits at the mug that was presented to him. Jam Willy smiles and greets Odin. 

Jam Willy: Thank you for coming here, Odin. We have much to discuss. 

Odin Balfore: You tell me to meet you here and tell me that it is urgent yet here I sit as you drink coffee. 

Jam Willy: It is call being a good host, which is more than what I can say about you or the zebras.

Odin Balfore: I have Zebras?

Jam Willy: Apparently so. However, that is not why I have called you here. I called for you because of Ragnarok. The balance of power has shifted and will continue to shift as we head into 2019. It is going to be a big year. A lot of the Old Gods are passing on. Lemmy, Bowie, Prince. All vessels for Old Gods. Keith Richards, Phil Collins, Beyonce, all counterparts. You see, every God has a counterpart; even you. 

Odin Balfore: Yah, its Krampus. We fight all the damn time. I have the mantle of the Christmas God, my uncle, Ragnir.

Jam Willy: Indeed but you inherited your uncles problems with his brother. 

Odin Balfore: I’m not following. 

Jam Willy: Krampus is not your counterpart, Krampus is your uncle. He was Ragnirs Brother. They have their own problems. 

Odin Balfore: So whose mine? 

Jam Willy: That, I cannot tell you. If I did, you would go kill them right away. That would further upset the balance. They are the ying to your yang. Oddly enough, you have the dark powers of the Old Gods. You bring destruction. Your counter brings creation. 

Odin Balfore: So if my counter dies, what happens? Rather if the vessel dies.

Jam Willy: If a successor is not named and a mantle not bestowed, you must recover the mantle.

Odin Balfore: So am I going on a quest - or you just telling me this?

Jam Willy: Giving you fair warning. Also, if the mantle is not recovered then your powers too shall drain. 

Odin Balfore: And if I recover it?

Jam Willy: Your powers grows ten-fold. Think of this like the Highlander, in simple terms and like the highlander, if you knew, you would kill them. That's the problem they had; that's why theres no more highlanders. You can and should still bring ragnarok to the world and to WCF. You are an Old God and you need to flex that muscle.. Man. Like, be the old you. The real you, man. You know what that promotion is like, you know that they need tough love. Do not give them an inch. Do not give them a mile. You have been consumed with Poonguinea but there is a reason why that is Cairos legacy and not yours. Yours is chokeslaming the company into the dirt and building it back up into your image. 2019 is going to be a rough year; make sure that they feel it. 

I know that Noble Savage is going to do everything in her power to take that Championship away from you. Show her the unrivaled power of the Old Gods. Allow ONE to be your ultimate proving ground; not that you need to prove anything. More of a figure of speech. Do not let Savage slip through the cracks. Punish her as you’re going to punish Bonnie Blue next week. Be hungry. Be agressive. You are on the cusp of history and you need to be the one to make it. A ONE main event, a six month championship reign, its substantial. As for right now, focus on Vincent Augustine and going into Payback. Keep in mind what I told you. Keep an eye out. Go forth and wreck shit. Be the pusher of shit. 

Odin Balfore: When you say it like that, it sounds dumb. 

Jam Willy: Its not. Whoever said that has brain damage and licks wallpaper for nourishment. Probably the same guy who tried to have sex with your Zebras. 

Jam willy stares at the camera and sips that hawt tea. 

Odin Balfore: That sounds even more concerning. That person should go seek professional help. 

Jam Willy: Indeed, Spoofing Odin Balfore is not a way to get over, it just gets your buried. I mean like, what is this guy, like a wizard, man? He keeps poking around and hes going to be taken out by a lizard man, man. Chuup gone come out the woodwork and snatch a brother sleepin. Vincent Augustine went and stepped himself into a pile of dog shit so high, he aint evah gone see the day light. I mean, lets bury the world champ by paroding him and making him look like a million bucks because you cant engineer proper satirical material. That's what you can do, Odin. You can go out and deliver some real satirical shoot. 

Odin Balfore: I feel you, Jam Willy. I feel you. 

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Chapter IV: Proper Satirical Shoot LOL

Enter ZMAC, dressed as Odin whose also dressed Vincent Augustine. Sure, the grey wig is off set and you can see ZMACs green highlighted hair. And yah, OK, we get it, ZMACS teeth arnt the whitest and fair point, ZMACS about five inches shorter than Odin but Honey Badger don’t give a shit about these things. However, Vincent Augustine isnt the sturdiest of tree trunks if’n you be getting the drift. ZMACs clearly reading off a script, not that Ol’ Z needs a script ( LOL don’t we know it ) but Ol’ Z is doin his boi a favor.

ZMAC: Dear WCF, wouldn’t you know it but I’m a faggot who cant wrestle. 

ZMAC looks up from the paper and talks off stage to Odin who's behind the camera. 

ZMAC: Odin, this isnt satirical; its just true shit.

ZMAC continues reading.

ZMAC: I’m a girly little bitch who whines too much and I’m nothing more than a dirty knob socker? Sucker? Socker. I’m nothing more than a dirty knob socker and a tosser. 

ZMAC looks up at Odin again. 

ZMAC: Odin, like three people are going to get that joke. 

Odin: I know and its hilarious. 

ZMAC shakes his head and moves on. 

ZMAC: I’m going to defeat odin, one, two, and I dunno the rest cuz I never beat anyone a day in my life. I’m such a pathetic thawt I cant even beat my meat. 

ZMAC gets frustrated and throws the paper. 

ZMAC: Odin, this isnt satirical. Hell, this isnt even shoot. 

Odin: Sure it is. I’ve won five WCF world champions just by doing that. 

ZMAC thinks for a moment. 

ZMAC: Fuckin hell, you have. 

Odin: Do you know who else hasnt won a WCF World Championship? Vincent Augustine. Bonnie Blue and Noble Savage. You think I’m out here wasting the A-game material on Vincent fucking Augustine? Hell, I got Louis Barkoeski in catering right now just incase you bailed. See, I don’t respect Augustine enough to put the effort in against him. I know I’m world champion, he knows I’m world champion. Ok, I’m not going to lose to Ghetto Poonguinea and Zebras. There arnt even any Zebras on Poonguinea! He just goes:

‘Yah, Odin looks like a doofus,’ Then he tries to step on a legacy forged in blood of people just like Vincent Augustine. He’s his own worst enemy. Hell I don’t even respect him enough to dog around and do a proper satirical shoot. That's why I called you. Its so non-satirical, its actually funny. Its a parody of a parody. Its called comedy but there is nothing funny about what I’m going to do to him on Sunday night. I’m going to murder him, send him back home in a shoe box with his paycheck inside his work boots. See this belt? I’m the champion. I’m the best. It cant be taken away from me. Not one person has straight up in a fair fight beaten me for the WCF Championship. As far as I’m concerned, I’m an undefeated world champion. 

Corey Black beat me, he needed four legends and an act of fucking God. 

Adam Young beat me with the help of steven singh. The other times, it was stripped from me. 

So you tell me ZMAC, if my shoots not good enough. You tell me that I don’t know how to shoot because I think we both know that I can. 

ZMAC: LOL this plebes getting furious. Settle down Bates, the reenactment hasnt started yet. Don’t work yourself up into a shoot. Here, I’ll show you what I mean.

Oh shit, its ya boi, Ol’ Z and I’m -k-k-kummin at chu live for the sake of comming at you chu LIVE! And men alive, men alive, none of you gone make it outta here alive. Least of all YOU, Vincent Augustine as my Boi Ol’ Dirty Balfore waxes the tip of his THICK off the broad side of your rosey little cheekbones. He gone take you for all that you’re worth this week and still be able to make change. That an a free cuppa kawfee gone get him a free cuppa kawfee and my boy don’t even drink it. He just gone dump it out into the gutter -> just like your fucking career -> and I don’t even fuckin know you but I can tell instantly by your fucking name that your a shit bum that found a gift card to K-MART. 

‘Gah, but ZMAC, KMART went out of business.’ 

That's the fucking joke, you three toed, droopy eyed plebe. You wana go up against the world champion then you better get the U.N. on speed dial. Have them drop off cases of poptarts and government cheese because Ol’ Dirty is about to rain down fire and fury like the world hasnt seen before. Odins General McCarthy and you’re Kuwait 1992 up in this bitch. Operation Desert Storm? Nah, more like Operation Vincent Augustine wishes he was never born. Homeboy went and bit off more than he can chew and these are facts cuz I know Odin gonna knock them chicletts into your inverted little dicklett. Sunday night on Slam, the Mark of Odin gone bring you home and just liike Harry Potter you gone wake up in your cubboard under the stairs with my boy, dragging you out and whipping you ass with a belt because that's all you really are. A whipping boy. A low tier scrub that's going to get taken to task before Odin takes my girls sister to task at Payback. If I wanted to parody your career I wouldnt have to go far because, Vincent Augustine are the very essence of self parody. Sunday Night, if you aint careful, Odin Balfores going to end your career and don’t try to fight it. I know you Vincent. You’re ugly on the inside, Ugly like me. I can see through you. See your true colors. 

And let me tell you something right now, They all float down here and Sunday night, so shall you. 

Odin: See, that was terrible.

ZMAC: Nilla, what? That's was dope off the cuff, shit. 

Odin: Nah, that was outta nowhere, no set up, dark room shoot. Its trash. 

ZMAC: Nilla, please. You do that all the time. 

Odin: I do monologues. You know what a monologue is, right? Shakespeare invented them. I perfected them. That's why I’m the world champ. I perfected my craft. I’m a master at what I do. I’m the best pro wrestler in this industry. The most famous in this industry. No one is banging down Augustines door. ADUB sent Bonnie Blue packing because shes too self-absorbed and cries everytime she isnt spoonfed a championship. Everyone wants to become a top star but no ones willing to put in that work night in and night out. Well, for twenty years I’ve been doing it. I’ver been putting in the work, trouncing everyone in my path and being the biggest name I can be. I’m a legend and I did off the backs of people like Augustine, Blue and Savage.

The pretenders, the whiners and the wana-bes. 

I’ve buried them all in a shallow grave marked future endeavored. Sunday night will be no different. 

Now they can get ready to suck my dick.