CAEDUS REWIND: A 36 year old who survived a murder attempt at the hands of a giant former friend in 2003 and has since seen the loss of all he held dear, most notably (unknown to the XWF) the immolation deaths of his wife and daughter in August 2016. On Christmas Eve 2016, he was detained as an arson suspect but cleared of all suspicion following the subsequent FD investigation. In suspect fashion he made his way across the country to Times Square in time for a victorious debut X-Treme Rules match-up versus Benito Angelo. Days later he was alerted to a match on the 18th with Isabella Ravenwolf while staying with a fan. When last we saw Jim Caedus he had just cut a promo on the streets of New York...



::It's incredibly unnerving to dream of a time when I'm only seven years of age but nevertheless the world around me, while I watch from the living room bay window as my mother and father drive away, is eerily enormous. And...I remember this. Butterflies populate my prepubescent paunch. It's the first time my parents have left me alone to my own devices.

Innocence is such an inaccurate description and at the risk of kneeling to Always the Ever-God of Hyperbole, I'd have to say innocence is an inaccurate description every goddamn time.

Unaware...that's more like it. Unaware of the consequences. Unaware of actual, factual reality::

I AM unaware but I know I want to do this...

I wanna light mommy and daddy's bed on fire.

::So I do::

It's so pretty! I wanna light the carpet!

::Old-school pea-green shag burns well::

So pretty! Let's put paper!

::I grab daddy's letters from the nightstand and I place them on the spreading flames::

Neat! The bed-

::Coming along nicely. What began as lighting quilt cover tassels like fuses has blossomed into a bonfire.

I laugh.

I clap.

I cover my ears when the smoke detector squeals. This isn't fun now. This isn't for kids. This is grown-up shit::

Uh! Uh-uh!

::Mommy always told me what to do about fire. I run out into the family room.

I grab the corded phone.

9

1

1

Emergency Dispatch answers::

Fire! A fire!

::I drop the phone and let it hang as I run back to mommy and daddy's room. A positive inferno.

Welcome to Hell.

I'm falling to my knees watching my blazing trailer incinerate the family pets, my wife and my child::

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


"When Wills Collide"



I tire of these dreams...these nightmares. I wipe away tears in annoyance, their true physical source long lost with my regained consciousness.

'Were those even tears? It's damp as fuck out here in the forest.'

It _is_ damp, I notice, and cold as I stretch against the winter-beaten tree trunk I at some point fell asleep sitting back against early this morning. It took some time getting here but it seems to be one of the few places in the state I'll be able to safely and quietly..."find a ride" to Florida.

Not long after my arrival in this inexplicable New York hick-town Hamlet I received notification that I'd be facing XWF Television Champion Thomas Nixon at the next Savage Saturday Night event.

'Ambassador of the Lizard People.'

Lizards. Fucking lizards. I fucking love lizards as every proboscis-picking, labia-licking, mud-mucking, tools-and-trucking man should. Reptiles are cool, let's be honest. Herpetology was the first badge I earned in Boy Scouts. Reptilians and their servile human ilk, however, are a different matter altogether, as is Thomas Nixon. Fucking lizards.

I'd noticed Nixon from the beginning. I hadn't been among the thousands upon thousands-

'Upon thousands.'

-of fans that first scoffed over the idea of a humanoid shapeshifting reptilian race infiltrating the XWF. No, as I'd made abundantly clear to the witch Isabella Ravenwolf, I'm a believer. It isn't a stretch of the imagination when you've seen what I've seen, experienced what I've experienced, suffered as I've suffered.

As for Reptoids, I've never been aware of any reptilian in my presence before. I've never seen one shapeshift, save for the videos online including government officials and members of the media.

I wasn't unaware of the conspiracy theory, Nixon's self-proclaimed seat at the table as Asp Ambassador nor his short though illustrious XWF career but I'd set about my research anyway. I came to the conclusion that Thomas Nixon, if sincere, was going to be a serious challenge to say the least. My research and scouting had been incredibly time consuming and, combined with my efforts of finding my way here to this small stretch of forest in Newfield, New York, I'd been physically and mentally drained.

But now, I'm recharged.

'Good as new.'

Indeed. And I've time to kill before it's time to kill so I may as well get to the lacerating linguistics.

'Again, on the phone. Where's John?'

Doesn't matter. This is more practical anyway.

'Not much chance differentiating this forest from any other in the region, especially with as little detail as that shitty lens will give.'

Exactly.

.....................

"My dance card sure as fuck is full _now_ ain't it? In a handful of days I've been notified of an Antarctic match with Hell's Harlot Isabella Ravenwolf, enlisted as a cash cow by Bob Bourbon for an apparent Jim Caedus All-Comers 15k XBux Gauntlet Match and now......now I hear that before even my match with Miss Ravenwolf I'm to square off with none other than our very own XWF Television Champion Thomas Nixon."

'Forget the future. All but the near future.'

"First and foremost, it's an honor to be given the opportunity to compete for the TV Title in only my second match under contract. For the first time in four years it feels as if I have a shot at turning it all around. A start at least, a taste...and you'd better believe I'm seeing this as the lick of a lifetime.

Secondly, though greater than that strap of leather and gold you hold, Thomas Nixon, it _is_ an absolute honor to slide into the squared-circle with a man like you who has so performed above and beyond in the eyes of your peers, the fans, the brass...and yours truly. I recognize that you have elevated that belt, successfully defending it four times now against consistently tougher opponents. I also acknowledge that you believe your greatest task yet awaits you on that cruise ship in the form of 'The Radical' Gabe Reno and Chris Chaos. ...Guess again.

I've watched you wage your warfare. I've enjoyed how you've psychologically picked apart your opponents. I was mesmerized as you manipulated those wading in the shallower end of the intelligence quotient ocean into actions against their nature. I understand you'll conclusively see me as no different than they are, especially given your opponents on the 18th. I'm your fifth title defense before the 'big dogs'. Another target to take the enhancement talent treatment to. ...Strike two.

Finally, the reptilians. Where do I start with such a vast concept? If the theories of David Icke and his supporters are to be believed, and I do, it stands that the people you represent as Ambassador have been hiding and hybridizing among humans for thousands of years. You stand firmly and proudly on the side of the inhuman. You call them victimized. You call them oppressed. ...I call fucking bullshit."

'That's right, fuck passive. Get aggressive.'

"Let's get one thing perfectly straight you slick-dressed shit sack sleestak...I don't give a frilled-lizard fuck about the so-called struggle of your supposedly superior species. I don't give a shit if you have ties or not to Freemasonry, the Illuminati or Steve fuckin' Irwin. But come Saturday I'd bet Bindi's boobs I'll have more than my motherfucking fingers up your cold-blooded cloaca."

'Crikey!'

"Did I get it wrong? Did I give you ammo? Are you, in fact, not reptilian and just a lowly human who somehow gained somewhat of a position of power amongst his populace? I. Don't. Give. A fuck. Human, lizard, hybrid...it doesn't matter to me. I absorb. I adapt. I overcome. All the psychoanalyzation, strategizing and skewing of semantics in that scaly scrotum won't keep me from kicking off between your fucking uprights."

'There's the kick, and it's good!'

"And while I know our battle will blister the balls of everyone in attendance, while I know you're gonna be the greatest in-ring challenge I've had in a decade, while I _know_ you'll bring me the biggest beat down I've had in recent history...I'm not going to let this opportunity slip through my fingers.

You spoke before of your utmost respect for that TV Title and how no one else recognizes its value. Before, maybe, but now you're facing a full score veteran who places more value on that strap than even _your_ arrogant ass could possibly imagine. I've never been one to keep a tally for bragging rights but I can tell you each Television Title I've taken in my twenty year tenure has meant more to me than the preceding. Unlike you, however, I'll admit what a Television Title represents. You've bitterly blurted it's the number one strap in any federation for the reason that it represents a true fighting champion and you've stubbornly stated, basically, that you'd be happy as a fucking clam to keep that strap. You know goddamn well you can't keep that title in the XWF and advance to what I'm sure you think you deserve. That makes you one of two things: a fucking liar or a pussy who settles. The Television Title is a superb belt for fighting champs, yes, but it's also almost always the first step towards greater things in any federation as long as you have the will to continue once you've lost it. If you say you don't aspire to become the XWF Universal Champion, again, you're a fucking liar or one hell of a settlin' sunuvabitch. Either way, I'm coming for that strap and there's not a goddamn thing you can do about it.

You've claimed no one else is as hungry for that TV gold as you are."

'Oh Christ, here it comes...'

"Hungry, meet MOTHERFUCKING STARVING! Your ass don't know the MEANING of the word hungry, cockSUCKER! Not in ANY FUCKING SENSE!"

'Sound travels far in the sticks. Try to keep the volume down and zombie-up.'

I take a moment to stare intensely into the lens as I breathe.

"Before you slide that forked fucking tongue over your fangs in fanciful delight at the sight of me losing it you'd better understand one thing: I've lived with my rage for going on fourteen years now and I'm still here. It may consume all around me but it never consumes _me_. You can remain cool and calculated while I rip off your hybrid cock and shove it up your ass."

'I wonder if it would wiggle around like a yanked off lizard tail?'

"Victory. Gold. Revenge. I've got a hat-trick of a tab for you to pay. You can call me deluded, try blaming me for my own losses. I'll agree, mostly, but if I seem like a reasonable person who won't take it out on you anyway you're the one who's deluded. Fuck reason. I'm Jim Caedus.

(TBC)