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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » "Savage Saturday Night" RP Board
”No matter what you do, there will always be hate” —J̶̷o̶̷h̶̷n̶̷ Cena
Author Message
Hate Nation J̶̷o̶̷h̶̷n̶̷ Ron Cena Offline
Napping my way right past yall fairies



XWF FanBase:
The IWC

(gets varying reactions in the arenas, but will be worshiped like a god and defended until the end by internet fans; literally has thousands of online dorks logging on to complain anytime they lose a match or don't get pushed right)


#1
04-11-2018, 01:32 AM



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I just froze up.

I'd been begging for it
for him
for what felt like decades of destruction.

But when it all came to pass, I froze up. Walking up that ramp at Wrestlemania, when I thought my beat down and F-U of Elias was all I'd be able to do, I felt a sudden chill in the air.

Next fuckin' thing I knew,

FUCK

Lights out.

In more ways than one.


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J̶̷o̶̷h̶̷n̶̷ Cena stood no chance against the Deadman of Death Valley on the grand daddy of them all this past weekend but with that devastating loss came a breath of fresh air, came release, and came a chance to stop with the goody two shoes act when he would finally dive right back into the stomping boots of his better ego, Ron Goddamn Mother Fucking Cena God Dammit Bitch.

Still feeling his skull throbbing, Cena throws on a black hoodie which on the front in blood red lettering complete with droplets speckled around the edges reads
“Hate Me”

Then embroidered on the back in rainbow lettering of course, with bullet holes littered over the words in such a fashion that makes them look like rainbow glass that had been assaulted with pride
”Fuck
You,
Fairies”

The scene is just an ordinary hotel room, curtains open that reveal the windows that stretch from ceiling to gray carpeted floor as the lights of the bustling city nightscape are enough to illuminate the room around him.


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But fuck it.

Every damn time a light goes off and darkness falls, it just prompts the mothafuckin' countdown to the next flipping of the switch that turns it all around again.

Lights out, bullshitters.

No, not me.

You.

The demise of John Cena in the eyes of the world has finally opened up the gates of hell.

The keys to the Hate Nation are right here in my hands.


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He slowly brings his hands out of his pockets and his fists are balled up. He's squeezing them so tightly his knuckles are white as fire. Black dust starts to fall from between his fingers as he grinds them against his palm and opens his hands up. Crushed dirt?

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Graveyard dirt.

The friendly reminder of the burial of the candy coated pushover the world has come to note.

Fuck the WWE, it killed my pussy ass dead and sent my soul to float.

Fuck the kids, they can make all the wishes they want and I'll slit the genie's throat.

Now it's time to prove when the handcuffs are off, I'm the only fucking G.O.A.T.


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Dusting his hands together watching the beams of red and white lights along the highway in the distance, Cena begins to shake his head no in a slow, disappointed manner. The camera behind him can catch a hint of the sneer on his face through the reflection of the glass window.

The joy of freedom within his now blackened heart was thoroughly converted into something much more distorted and disgusting by the time it reached his face and lips.

[Image: 6tFpeG.gif]

His hands were another story.

The feeling within them could only be described as an emptiness that begged to be filled.

A hunger within his palms that clamored for the feeling of throats being squeezed, steel being clenched, and hopes and dreams being crushed into the same dust he had at his feet.

Hate.

It wasn't easy.

It took years to become this hungry for hate.

Perhaps the seed the Deadman's brother once planted years ago did finally trigger this growth.

Embrace The Hate.

Now not only did Hate Nation Ron Cena embrace everything about the word, he embodied everything it meant to desire its complete and total domination over all who would cross his path or even hear his voice.


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So here we are takin' a walk into the extreme.

The place where any and everything is allowed to happen.

Nothing needs to make sense.

And the same shit that would have most other programs banned from television is revered like it's fuckin' diamond.

This is the company that wants, needs, and begs for the envelope to be pushed and for every psychopath, freakish monster, rapist, racist, and of course to come riding in on their trusty steeds. In the short time I've been around here I've seen more questionable shit than you could find on every Jerry Springer episode combined, and that's fucked!

I look around and see people insulting and threatening each other every hour of the day through promos, news reports, and any other means possible just to see how much of a piece of shit they can make somebody feel like before they meet them in the ring.


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Cena reaches behind and under his hoodie to pull something that clangs like metal from under his belt.

Of course they're metal.

Hand cuffs always are.


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But what these shit talking pussies and fairies don't realize is that they've got a whole new type of problem amongst they asses now.

A problem whose consciousness left and took a stroll on other side of existence just to get a breath of fresh.......Hell fire, eternal damnation, a fuckin' deluge of never-ending suffering, agony, and abandonment of all hope once had.

Yeah the cuffs are off one formerly vanilla mother fucker but that just means they're free and in need of some new wrists. Some new flesh and bone to start lovin' on.

Some new bitch.

Maybe a fuckin' bitch named

Pestalance.

No?

Maybe a fuckin' bitch who's basically the Saturday Morning Cartoon version of a real hater, the “Nazi” of all things. We'll see what a Nazi he is when I'm expecting him to hold his own on Saturday night in that main event and he slips up one time so I give him the biggest FUCK YOU ever given to a wannabe hater.

But what about Scully? Who the fuck are you, Scully? What are you about? Hopefully you're about being a team player with Pestalance and myself who both proudly represent the Hate Nation together.

We're inseparable now. We have a common goal, Pest and I.

That's right we all saw in his latest promo appearance that he received and signed the contract I sent his dumb fuckin' ass.

In fact he already sent it back to me and I've got that shit right here.

[Image: su1Eemc.jpg]

See it?

See Pestalance's signature?

Exactly.

The blank fuckin' line.

Because.

As proven by his inability to even spell his own fuckin' name right.

He CAN'T WRITE.

His uneducated, ignorant ass simply allowing himself to be seen looking at the contract on camera was in-fuckin-fact his only way of applying a goddamn signature to that shit.

Welcome to the club, Pest you bitch.

The Hate Nation welcomes you with open arms and despite your inability to use the power of the pen, pencil, or any other writing devices, I'm going to take your hand and force your dumb ass into victory Saturday night when you and I are the only two mother fuckers standing tall at the end of that whack ass fuckin' match the half-wit XWF managers threw together like they were makin' a salad out of last Thanksgiving's leftovers they didn't know what to do with.

Pest let's face it, it might be an unimaginative and pisspoor quality match but at least we'll both come out of it with guaranteed title shots afterward, you bitch, and you'll have only me to thank. Maybe we can both be given shots at our fellow Hate Nation member, ass hole obsessed Engy, and have a triple threat Hate Nation party for the Universal title.

Or should I say the University of Hate title?

Engy's too fuckin' stupid to rename it but seeing as I'm the only mo'fucker who could conceivably be seen winning our soon to come triple threat, I'll go ahead and take care of that shit once the belt's slung over my shoulder and you two lap dogs can clap for me and latch onto my ball bag for dear life as I make sure neither of you disappear into obscurity.

Sound good, cluck head?

Thought so!


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About 10 more minutes are spent with Cena ripping into his newly formed stablemates, Pestalance and Engineer, but due to promo time constraints we fast forward to a time where Cena believes he must now address his opponents for this week.

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And that level of unchecked dumbfuckery finally brings me to the 4 bitch made chump change marks who are walking into Saturday Savage thinkin' for some reason they have a shot at winning.

Let's start with the guy who spoke up first about our match, none other than the mentally challenged murderer of vaginal tissue, Vangis Greaves.

The same guy who is as talented at murdering eyeballs and eardrums of anyone watching his first promo as soon as he remarks such glorious gems as:

Quote:And as for you Ron Cena...We've already become quite acquainted in the 24/7 thread .

That's right I turned up the volume on that last questionable as fuck word there just to make sure all the dead vaginas out there heard that shit.

Vagina Grave.

Can I call you Vagina Grave?

Of course the fuck I can.

Did you seriously just go full on us all in your first official promo ever for an XWF match?

I wish, by god I only fuckin' wish I knew what the fuck you were talkin' about there so I could laugh my ass off and spend an entire promo just blasting the fuck out of you but instead it just confuses the fuck outta me.

I feel bad for you at this point.

It reminds me of how, earlier when we had a brief encounter near your limo one night, you ended up saying something about *reading* and I had to question the fuck outta you then, too! I dunno maybe you just confuse speaking with reading or swap the two words out for each other but I sure hope you can

read

my

lips.



F-U-C-K-space-Y-O-U-exclamation point



My god what a ass . I mean, fuck dude, are bad enough but yo ass is the ass version of a . I don't even know what that means or how it's possible but here you are livin' the dream and bein' it live in the flesh!

Let's hope the next worthless ass pussy bitch on your team had something intelligent to say.

Who was next, anyway?

Oh, that's right.

Jeremiah Dixon, the self professed Hero of the bunch.

Cue it up!

Quote:Then we have two rookies fresh from the academy. Ron and N.A.Z.I. Not a lotta info available for them. Ones a German piece of crap, the other wishes he was born black. I tell ya, kids these days.

Are

you

fucking

serious

right

the fuck

now.

Notice I didn't ask that, I just stated it? Yeah.

Fuck bro.

Dude.

Jerry Jackoff, can I call-ah fuck it of course this boss can.

Did I really just hear you admit to not having any goddamn fuckin' clue who I am?

I mean yeah, I have to call myself Ron when I'm on screen doing my XWF shit because of contractual and legal matters but FUCK DUDE!!!??? You really don't get it?

You don't understand just by looking at my face.

Or looking at my last name.

Or looking at the first name that has the scratches through it before Ron.

Or looking at my finishers.

Or looking at just about any television that wrestling has been on in the last decade and a half.

Just who the fuck you're dealin' with, KID? Yet I'm the kid. According to yo mentally fucked dope dome. How much crack you done smoked, bitch? You do know you're supposed to smoke that shit not sniff it, right?

There's a difference between crack and cocaine.

There's a difference between talented wrestlers and yourself.

There's a difference between intelligent minds and Pestalance.

There's a difference between my attitude here and the act I put on when I'm other places.

There's a difference between all kinds of shit but one thing that remains the same by flesh and blood is the fact that I'm still the greatest of all time. It's spelled G.O.A.T. in case Vaginal Graver is trying to “R E A D” this shit!


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