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The Big Fat Quiz O' Mains
12-05-2017, 09:28 PM
Post: #1




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Danny gets up from the wooden bench as the camera crew cuts their filming. A cameraman runs up to him, a t-shirt with IMPERIAL on it and a silhouette of his camo’d face. He sticks the shirt out with a silver marker in the other hand, presumably hoping to get the wrestler to autograph his merchandise. Danny glances at the shirt and the marker, reaching for the marker.

“Who should I sign this too, hm?”

“Robbie, my name’s Robbie Main!”

Danny almost signs the name when he first hears Robbie, but jerks his head up when the boy says Main. His fingers clench around the black market, and the plastic splinters ever so slightly under his grip.

“What’d you say?”

“Hahaha, Robbie. I’m Robbie Kane.”

Danny tilts his head, narrowing his eyes and getting up close to the kid. His eyes are wide, veins bright red.

“You laughing at me, what's so funny about me? The way I talk, huh, what is it, what's so funny, Robbie?”

The kid, still laughing, touches Danny’s arm playfully.

“Lighten up dude, it’s just a joke!”

Danny steps right up close to the boy, his scowl curling into a dark smile.

“I’m all good, kid, I’m all good. Maybe you want to make a few more jokes? Maybe you want to be a little more funny? I love a good comedian, Robbie.”

“Err.. I-I-I think I’m going to just leave n-n-n-ow Danny…”

“All your other friends are gone Robbie why don’t we just hang out for a bit? Why don't you show me how funny you can be?”

The cameraman looks around him and Danny, realizing that the rest of the camera crew seems to have packed up and made their move already. Danny and him were completely alone, well, as alone as any two people could be in the middle of he botanical gardens.

“I simply LOVE a good comedian.”

“Heh, no, I think I’m g-“

Robbie turns back to face Danny, only to see the heavy hand of the man slam against the side of his head. His vision filled with stars and he felt the ground rush up towards him before he fell on a pile of clouds. Clouds? No, they were arms, yes… Arms that felt like clouds.



“Wakey wakey, Robbie. Wakey wakey my little comedian.”

Danny waves a pack of smelling salts in front of the young man’s nose. With a snort, he jerks his head upwards away from the smelling salts, but realizes his forehead and chin are taped back against the chair. Actually, his whole body was taped down onto a chair. His arms were bent at the elbows, arms extended out and affixed to something. With the angle his face was taped down, he had to strain his eyes to look down at his hands, to see what they were holding.

It was his camera, taped against his hand, recording already on, and the massive video camera had a little go pro attached on top of it, filming him whilst he was filming ahead. The lighting in the room was mostly nonexistent, except for two spotlights, one on him and one on…

“Oh god.”



Danny dropped to a knee to catch the young man he’d knocked out cold. Danny wasn’t in the mood to fuck with a smart mouthed eighteen-year-old roadie. Fuck him. He wanted to play games, sure, Danny liked games. Danny liked games very much. Danny cradled the man in his arms, before pulling him up onto his feet, and hooking a hand over his shoulders. Robbie just hung limply against him. Danny’s mind was ticking quickly, he was mostly doing this by impulse… How could he make this useful?

Danny noticed Robbie’s camera still in it’s bag a few feet away. Picking that up with his free hand. He could feel the plan slowly come to fruition in his mind. If this Robbie wanted to play some games, he was sure other Robbies would want to play games too, it just made sense, yes? Yes. It all made sense.

Danny walked to the nearest street, glancing left to right and hailing a cab. This was going to take some quick organization skills. A casting call, a filming rig, a couple of torturous tools? Yes, yes…. YES. A recipe for entertainment, he had it.

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Robbie’s eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, and slowly the four silhouettes in front of him materialized features. Four men, all tied down and taped to chairs which felt similar to the one he was on. He screamed out loud when he realized they were all similarly knocked out, each bruised and battered a different way. A large hand clamped down on his mouth.

“Quiet. You’re annoying me, we’re here to have fun Robbie, not annoy each other, hm… HM?!”

Robbie nods his head vigorously, what the fuck.

“Say it. With that smart ass fucking mouth of yours, say it. We’re here to have fun.”

With a little whimper and choking back tears, Robbie mumbles out.

“W-w-e’re here to have f-f-f-f-f-fun”

“F-f-f-f-f-fun, I love it, with that let us begin!”

Danny stays away from the camera fan, rather letting it focus on the four taped up men. Each of them have long golden-brown hair, cascading around their face to cover up most of it. They all look to be in different stages of filth, from homeless to man on his way to an important business meeting, one of those where you talk about stocks and stick your nose in the air. Yet if you’d seen all four men in quick succession, you might not have been able to tell the difference, they all shared an uncanny resemblance.

“Welcome one and all to the very first episode of… The Big Fat Quiz Of Main! Fuck…. Take 2…. Ahem. Welcome one and all, to the very first episode of… The Big Fat Quiz O' Mains!”

Danny hits the cue on a soundboard, and a fun little tune comes on.



The sound of a fake audience clapping comes to an end as Danny speaks up once more.

“In this game we take, four wonderfully hand-picked Robbies, hurl them with the truth! And see which one stands the trial of wit and……”

Danny presses a button in his palm. The four men jerk to consciousness, eyes bulging as a burst of electricity flows through their bodies.

“… Lightning! That’s right folks, this isn’t just a game where the smart can win, one must strong, strong enough to fight The Devil himself!”

“What the fuck, where the fuck are we, what the fuck is going on?!”

The other three are still fairly groggy, blinking and trying look about. One lazily struggles against the tape.

“Well chump, maybe if you’d listen, you’d know what the fuck was going on. It’s your lucky day! You four are our esteemed contestants on the reality dating show of a lifetime!”

The four look at the off screen Danny, with looks of confusion on their faces.

“Don’t you fuck with me, get me the hell out of here. Who are you? Where are we?”

“Oh dear, it looks like none of you are really paying attention. Maybe three and four will do better. Cos if not, it’s the shocker for all of ya! It doesn’t matter who I am, I just ask the questions, you four though, you four give me the answers. So that our target audience, a certain Mr Robert Main, and our supplementary audience, the wonderful XWF universe, get a little taste of what’s in store for them this Wednesday Warfare!”

Contestant number three goes to argue back, eliciting a sad shake of the head from Danny, followed by a quick burst of electricity to all four contestants. The camera man squeals a little at the sight.

“Oh tsk tsk. Please don’t speak when you’re not being questioned. Haven’t any of you learnt an iota of manners. I ask the questions, you respond. Roger?”

Still reeling from the electricity shock, the four solemnly nod their heads.

“Wonderful, I’d hate to have a back and forth trying to convince you lot. The audience would hate that too, can’t be wasting precious air time.

Let’s get underway then, Contestant No. 1, what makes Robert Main the best wrestler of our generation?”


The man looks confused, drooling a little at the side of the mouth.

“I don’t fuckin-“

He gets blasted with a new wave of electrifying energy.

“Boop, wrong answer. The question goes to contestant number Dos! Why don’t you tell me why Robert Main is the best wrestler of our generation!”

The second man is clearly terrified, and he looks around tentatively before his eyes land on something. Widening first and then squinting to get a look, he seems to be reading.

“Well, erm, Robert Nain is a class above the rest. The man lives in reality and has done everything there is to be done. He is truly the… Erm… The one man everyone is trying to mimic.”

“Ugh, I got sick just listening to that. You have to speak with a little more conviction if you want to win this thing, Mainy boy. Also, his name is Main, not Nain, you little shit. Put some respeckt on it before I plaster your brains against the floor. But otherwise… Good job! That’s absolutely right. Our lovely Robert Main has been here a year and is already regarded as one of the top talents here, he’s supposedly living in reality, as the Devil himself whispers into one year and Caedus in the other. So talented is he that every member of the roster just wants to be like him, constantly jerking another man off whilst chasing delusions of grandeur, mmm the very thought brings me such joy and jealousy.”

Danny giggles to himself, the sound picking up on the camera’s boom microphone.

“Contestant number three! This next question is for you, best think carefully before you speak. Now why does Robert Main deserve to win this match?”

The man’s eyes dart to the to off-frame screen, squinting similar to the second contestant to read what it says.

“Tick tock, tick tock.”

“Well, erm, well! Robert ah, Main, has been consistently impressive! Yes, impressive! Since his return he’s faced… Robbie, no that can’t be right. Robbie? He’s faced Robbie Bourbon! The Engineer? Yup yup, he’s done those things. And really made an i-impact on this federation. Such hard work he’s put in, he really deserves to take that belt?”

“Damn dude, I think you might have a speech impediment, watch The Kings Speech, it’s awfully touching and it really taught that king how to man the fuck up and kick the retard out of his speech, maybe it’ll help you too. You always sound so excited?

Hm, maybe I should’ve thrown some punctuation, bitch read everything like it was an exclamation.

But you’re right as well. Robbie’s been ever so consistently effective. I mean, he’s only lost once really if you think about it. He beat Bourbon for crying out loud! But then he did get floored by Engy… And lost at Leap of Faith. Is that all he’s really done? Well nevertheless! He’s consistent and talented, and that in itself is proof of his worth. Very good!”


The third contestant breathes a sigh of relief, leaning back against his chair. He’s dripping with sweat that only got worse as Danny was speaking. The fourth contestant looks indignant, just staring at Danny as he moves through the room.

“And finally, the last question to rule them all! Who is Robert Main?”

The fourth contestant just stares, his eyes flicker to the board, and search frantically. A look of confusion warps into a look of defeat.

“The board has nothing on it! What am I supposed to fucking say you psychopath!”

The positive buzzer sound rings out and Danny finally steps into the frame. He leans in close to the fourth contestant and gives him a sick smile.

“Ding ding ding! You got it. He’s nothing. But I’ve been itching to press this button so wooh!”

With a giggle, Danny squeezes the button again and the fourth men stiffens up as electricity courses through him. He shakes a little and falls backwards, blacking out as he lands on his back.

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“You heard it folks, he’s fucking nothing. He really wants to be substantial. He really looks for it. Craves it even, but he hasn’t quite found out. Reverting back to the same comfortable shit he’s been doing for months now, Main just does what’s helped him succeed. And shit, it has helped him succeed, he’s done well here, hasn’t he?

But is that good enough? Is it good enough to just make it. To do what it takes to win, without…. What’s the word I’m looking for, risk?

This business is about developing and growing, about crushing those that lack a certain… Forgive the cliché, X-Factor. Brute strength will get you places, sure, as it always will, but how far can one climb up the ladder before he realizes his arms are weak and his will is no longer there?

Whilst true Champions craft and carve out their own ladders with the creativity and character they embody, the flecks of scum on our historical books that simply come and go always hit a cap. Robert Main has hit that cap. He’s reached a point where the same shit is no longer going to fly, like the words he spews out his actions in the ring mean nothing to anybody, him or the fans. What, does he stand before a mirror and memorize a handful of words so his Caedus-Nut sized brain can change the order and repackage it before each match? Boring.

It’ll only last so long, you have the same MO for your matches. Every match you have is only worth the other person in it. That’s the only thing keeping you fresh Mr Main, the only thing keeping you from getting thrown into last-seasons bin. Along with the likes of Peter Gilmour and James Raven, you haven’t been here nearly as long as either and you already leave a bad taste in my mouth. You were supposed to be the light of our generation, I came into this federation glad that they gave upstarts like you a chance, you squandered it all away still living on the glory of your early days.

You're pathetic.

Come to terms with your losses, accept your weaknesses and embrace your challenges. Don’t flick them away like a booger you didn’t feel like eating just this one time.

You can’t bitch and whine about being a loser one day and then prop yourself up like some Alexander the fucking Great the next.

You aren’t the Main that beat me that day, and I’m not the Imperial you remember pinning. That much is clear from which corners we’ll be fighting from, who’s name they announce first and who walks in with the title. That’s what this means, it doesn’t make me Main, it validates me. It proves that what I say is true and not some garbage the Devil whispered to me or Caedus asked me to say. My words have worth, and this title is there to prove it. Don’t worry, it’s been cleansed with actual talent like Tiberius, who contrary to what you think put up a hell of a fight before he decided to leave us. It doesn’t smell like you any longer, and I know for a fact it won’t smell like you for a long time to come.

Maybe you should chase those titles your buddy and Chaos holds Main. Stab Caedus in the back when he least expects it and take it with another sad fuck who decides to get in bed with you. That’s the only thing you lot are good for, right? Massaging each other’s shoulders just long enough to catch one of them off-guard. You know Chaos is trying to fuck Jimmy over, and vice versa, your time is set bud, I’m sure somebody is thirsty enough for gold to just be willing to sleep with you once.

I am the change this company so desperately demands. Having me in a position of power such as Hart Champion is what this company so desperately needs. Take note of who holds our current titles, from Erik Black to Robbie Bourbon, all men who have twice as much character as you, twice as much drive as you, twice as much hunger as you do. You just don’t fit. Maybe one day, they’ll call for solo champions like you and Caedus again, but tomorrow is not that day.”


With a grunt Danny kicks down contestant number three to his back, and with another sends two tumbling back in pain as well. One is slumped face down, still unconscious from the shock. Danny runs his hands through the man’s hair, gripping and pulling it up to face it towards the camera. The resemblance to Robert is irrefutable. Danny grins his signature grin.

“Look at him Robbie, look at what you’ll become.”

Danny shoves contestant number one back as well.

“That’s a wrap folks, was that as funny as you were hoping my little comedian? And Robert… I’m sorry to say, thanks for playing, but you lose.”

Danny holds the trigger in hand, pressing it as all four contestants and the camera man shudder in shock. The feed cuts to black with Danny’s insane laugh being the last thing that’s heard.

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