Ghost Tank stood in his emptied in-ground massive pool, holding his scythe. The camera pans down further and reveals that he had decided to be naked, revealing his five inch soft cock, and fat balls hanging underneath. He begins to swing the scythe about, his body twirling about, as the scythe cuts through the air. He then leaped into the air, slamming the back of the scythe, the pole itself, causing a harsh THWACK to sound out as it slammed into the tile. As he stood upright, he began to spin the scythe about, leaning forward, allowing the scythe to spin about across his back. He brought his hand up towards his back, as the scythe spun until it fell into his grasp, and the blade scraped along the pool's flooring. He then stood upright once more, then slammed the butt of the scythe several times.

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Soon the pool began to get flooded by men and women, dressed in black with black masks covering their faces. All holding different types of bladed weapons, though some of the bigger people had brass knuckles across their fingers. They began to rush at him then, only for Tank to cut a swathe through the flooding men and women. His scythe slicing through them like a hot knife through butter due to his power. He roared out loud, as he was cut by one of the people as he dodged other blades. One of the bodies he had cut in half, he swung his scythe, slamming into the torso, then swung hard at his enemies, sending the body flying at them. Tank then grinned evilly, as he aimed to run through the torsos, but aiming to not kill them. Instead much like he was playing hockey, a more sick and deranged version, the men and women still clinging to life after being cut in half, would feel the tip sliding into their body and then the sensation of them flying straight towards their brothers and sisters-in-arms, screaming all the while, begging for them to be put back together, for someone to help them so they can live, crying as they slowly feel the grip of death coming for them.

He had begun to show blood, both his and theirs. Now he was out of bodies to terrorize his enemies with screaming upper bodies asking for someone to slide their organs back where they are supposed to reside, so that doctors can try and bring them back together again.

Blood poured on the pool's tiles, making an icy feel to walking on the tiles. The large man was used to this kind of thing. He even used it to his fighting. However, he'd toss his scythe hard, flinging it at the intruders behind him, some had dodged, but those unfortunately enough, would feel the blade cutting their legs from their bodies, and others with broken femurs. Those that were still available to fight would come at him and he began to show his agility and leg strength as he was about to be grabbed and jumped up, landing feet first onto the shoulders of the assailant, then leaped off of them, spinning around and roundhouse kicking the next enemy. He landed on one foot, slid, but chained it into planting his hands on the floor and pushing off and mule kicking the guy, forcing him to become a projectile as he slid across the floor and began to trip up his friends, causing them to fall flat on their masked faces. He got up onto his feet, slid a bit, but began to spin around, watching who was still up and coming for him.

One man was close enough, and his friends began to close in on them, so he jumped up, dick and balls slapping the man in the face, before he propelled himself by using the man's body, and sending a hard kick straight into the face of four men, which caused them to spin around and land upon their backs. He twisted himself, and would monkey flip the man, causing him to fly into his friends. Soon the numbers game started to get to Tank. He growled, but thankfully the blood coating his body made it harder to grab hold of him, so they stuck for strikes. He was getting hit by the strongmen, the knuckles slamming into his jaw, his neck, his ribs, his chest, his back. All the while Ghost Tank tried to block as much as he could. So he began to resort to dirty tactics: crotch shots.

He began to kick at the balls of the men, and then kicking hard, giving helluva cunt punt to the women. When enough of them had been brought to their knees, he slowly got up, holding his ribs as if he was hugging himself. As he stood up, he saw where his scythe laid, and he growled louder before rushing over to it, leaping over the men and women that had surrounded him. He landed hard on his stomach, but slid along the blood, landing next to the fallen foes. He gripped the shaft and then stood up with it. He rolled his bruised shoulders, the scythe moving with him. As they got up, he rushed onto the blood, sliding along it at them, with the scythe scraping the tiles, and as he slid, he knelt down, but the closer he got, he stood up while swinging the weapon around, cutting a leg off one man, the blade tip ended up into the brain of a woman, killing her instantly. He pulled on the scythe, and as he did, her body came with, and he grabbed her with his free hand, and in one fluid motion the body slid to him, his grip being around her neck, and both arms raised, but the scythe stayed up in the air while he pushed down, slamming her corpse into the blood underneath, while pulling his weapon free of her skull, though, it had torn out a chunk of skull and brain out.

He looked to the rest and let out a massive roar-like sound and he went straight at them once again, swinging his scythe side to side, turning the shaft so that he could cut and gut anyone left to right, just by turning the shaft. As their numbers dwindled, he forsake the scythe and began to use just his hands to slaughter them all.

Some he'd go straight brute strength upon, by smashing their skulls in into the walls of the pool, curbstomping them into the floor. One tried to charge into him, but he slid to the side, dodging the big man, only for Tank to come up as the man fell, and climb onto his back, quickly wrapping an arm around his neck, and because of his strength, the man couldn't fight, and Tank began to pull and pull and pull and he'd pull some more, until spine and neck let out a sickening crack, breaking the bones in the man's body, while killing him.

The only one to last, was a woman, her left leg sliced away from her body. Ghost Tank chuckled as she tried to stand, but kept slipping. He moved over to her, and she looked into the sclera contact covered eyes. He began to perform a ballroom dance, a waltz, though she'd slip, he'd keep holding onto her, keeping her from falling flat on her face as she screamed

"WHY ARE YOU DANCING WITH ME!? JUST FUCKING KILL ME!"

He laughed heartily then lips turning into a sadistic grin, with evil intentions in mind before he spoke, the grin grew wider upon his face,

"But my dear... it's not every day you get to dance with Death..."

He spun her around before yanking her straight back in close before slamming his head straight into hers, causing their heads to split open from the force of the blow, and then he grabbed both of her hands, then kicked her knee and caused her to be up in the air as he began to spun around, aided by the blood, allong him to go faster and faster as he spun her around and she began to let out loud screams of pain.and once he acquired the speed he wished, he let go of her, and she'd fly head first straight into the pool wall, and her skull would bust open, her brain smashing with her into the wall, before she fell to the ground, dead.

He moved to his scythe, covered head to toe in the life force of others and made his way out of the pool, tracking blood across the pool's tiles, then walked, nude, throughout the mansion, crimson footprints tracking along the expensive carpets. He then slammed his scythe upon the tiles next to the kitchen

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His servants rushed to the pool area, and began to do their jobs, by cleaning up after him, even if it meant making bodies disappear. And once he saw them leave to clean, he went back to his bedroom, to go to the bathroom next to it, to clean the blood off his body.

Once cleaned up, he sat naked upon his bed, looking at the paper upon the dossier, looking at the number upon it. Time to talk with his partner.

---

Ghost Tank inputs Bearded War Pig's number in, and presses 'call'. It rings a couple times, and he hears the click that the phone had been answered

"Hello, this is Ghost Tank. How are you this evening, Joshua? Or would you rather I call you by your ring name, Bearded War Pig?"

Bearded War Pig is leaned up against an outside bar wall in Scotland, doobie in mouth and phone to ear, he is dressed in a Deadpool tank top, a pair of charcoal mesh work out pants, black on black Michigan fitted hat backwards, and black on black shell toed Adidas tennis shoes.

"Hey man how the fuck are you GT, if you don't mind you can call me Bearded War Pig, War Pig, or even B.W.P, I don't like the birth name used that much, some people just don't need to know that information. So how are things on your end, hope you been hitting the gym and mats, I just want to go in this tournament and dominate these fucktards. They all almost think we are just going to be a walk through a new screen door that isn't locked. They will be surprised though, when they are met with a brick wall! Sorry man, they all got me jacked out of my mind, you need something?"

Ghost Tank nodded through his words, chuckling at 'fucktards'. Once BWP finished, he replied

"I just wanted to check on you. Figured a call was the best. Well, second best. However, I am calling before I continue my workout regimen. I hope you are eating well enough, comrade. If not, I can wire you some money, can get whatever the hell you need. What do you think our chances are? Because while I hold some doubt, knowing more about our competition, I firmly believe we will completely destroy them, and follow up with breaking Robbie Bourbon and Arby Beef."

B.W.P hits his joint a couple of times before he exhales, he coughs a little, and begins to smile uncontrollably for the THC is kicking in, some of that Bruce Banner.

"Funny thing you ask about my eating, my agent has me eating healthy as shit, I don't really feel like I would need to though. But whatever, you know I have to keep him happy being a new star and all. I don't think it will be long though before I am shining and that scrawny boned, pencil neck, pecker head will get what is coming to him, fucking Arney! No don't worry about money bro, I fined my ways when I am low and down, raised on the streets. I think our chances are exactly what we put in, which I believe we both want a shot at the tag titles, so I am sure we both will blow the roof off with chaos and destruction. I know for a fact I piss excellence and I am going to be spraying it all over the arena. So I truly believe we are going to mop the floor with which ever of these knucklefucks we face."

He chuckled and nodded,

"Good. I like your spirit. I feel we are going to be one of the greatest tag team champs in the history of XWF. Just like I am with the Hart championship. I know Peter is going to try and cut a promo soon. So we have to either talk as much shit as possible against him, or wait, then shit all over everything he has to say. Jerkbeast is a non-issue for us. His partner isn't going to help him too much, so we don't really have to worry about them. My doubt mostly comes from Soldier and Doctor Louis D'Ville. Soldier has already beaten me in singles competition. And, well, you know my history by now with the good Doctor. I assure you, though, I've grown stronger in mind, so he will not be able to fuck with my head again. However, he will be facing the Monster for the first time, and he won't be alone. He's going to be with the Bearded War Pig."

He laughed softly, then spoke again

"Speaking of, did you like our tag name?"

"Fuck that jabber jaw Peter Peter the fat girl eater Gilmour, he probably is preparing for this match by taking huge donged strap ons from his girly girl, while watching hentai or whatever it is called. I don't know about you but that guy just irritates the shit out me, not like to where I can control myself, but to where I wish I could rock him in his fucking cock holster. He tries to tell me to be afraid of him and what not, how are you going to put fear in a Marines eyes? We are trained to run to the sound of gunfire, our enemies always die with fear glazing their eyes. I am not afraid of jack shit, death is a honor to men like me. So that shit head better be prepared for if we meet in the ring, I am going Kill Hat on his bitch boy ass!"

Bearded War Pig takes a couple huge drags inhaling deep down with his diaphragm, trying to relax a little after thinking about Peter Gilmour and his cock trap running at ninety miles an hour.

"Yeah sorry if I got a little out of control their, that cockbag just pisses me off, any who, yeah you and the Doc seem to have a history, he had a lot of negative shit to say about you. Don't let it get to you though, what the hell am I saying I know you won't I saw it in your eyes in your last promo. You had you're heart into it and you will come Wednesday, we both will. As for Unknown Soldier, well I have a quote for him. From one of my favorite war lords, Genghis Khan, I am a punishment of God, if you had not committed such great sins, God would not have sent a punishment like me upon you! That goes for all, even had that shit tattooed on my left rib cage. The team name doesn't really matter to me, if you like it I like it. How do you feel?"

Bearded War Pig picks up off the wall and begins walking down the street as he finishes up his doobie, ashing it and tossing the roach back in his custom joint holding case while waiting a response.

"How I feel about them? Well, I'm going to put Doc into the ground, Soldier will lose to you. Peter is going to try his best, but we will fuck him and McBride over. We're going to bulldoze them, knock their teeth down their throats so that their entire fucking body is cut apart, including their asshole when they take their next shit. Our preliminary fight, though, is going to be easy. So fucking easy, that I'm going to make Jerkbeast be able to eat my fist when I shove it straight up his ass. Greg is going to die of old age, like the old fuck he is.

Honestly, I feel that we're going to be the next number one contenders to the titles. Plus, when we do win the titles, it's going to be one helluva thing for you. First couple of months, and you get to be a tag team champion? Pretty good shit, if I don't say myself, BWP."

As Ghost Tank was going on about fisting someone to death and making their opponents shit their teeth ut, B.W.P continued down the streets of Scotland. When a small group of lads and lassies come stumbling up to B.W.P who is still on the phone, the crowd, soon begins to get loud and excited as they begin screaming "Bearded War Pig!" B.W.P shakes his head and then suddenly the lassies lift their shirts and let their puppies off the leash. B.W.P quickly says to Ghost Tank,

"Give me one minute, I think some of Peter's old fans want me to sign their titties!"

Bearded War Pig quickly lowers the phone and smiles as he walks toward the crowd the men hand him a sharpie, he then begins to sign tits and ass, as well as getting a motor boat in. He bullshits with the guys for a minute and then continues on his way with huge smile and a hard cock.

"Yep I was right it was some of Peter's old fans until I came along, now they want daddy! Sorry about that man, but like you said I am the new guy, have to take opportunities with the fans very serious, it means getting paid right?! Yeah it is crazy with how much the company has already decided to jump me right in their with the greats. Once in a lifetime opportunity another reason why all the other teams better be prepared, I am the type of man that doesn't let these kind of opportunities just pass by, instead I capitalize from them.

I am right in the mind just as you are, I know what this means for me as a wrester and It's something I want, I want bad. Like bad enough to make them shit their own teeth, like you said. We just work together, charge into battle ready to give the ultimate sacrifice and bring our enemies to their knees. I am talking Viking's pillaging status, put their heads on pikes for the next team to know we mean war!"

He laughed a few times, and as BWP finished, he smirked and nodded

"Well, all right then. I'm glad we're on the same page. The Bearded War Tanks are going to crush the opposition and become the next XWF Tag Team Champions!

So, it's time for me to continue my training War Pig. You keep doing what you wanna do. When we see each other, it'll be time to bring the pain to our opponents. Death will ride into battle with Bearded War Pig, and leave a trail of bodies behind them on their quest to become tag team champs.

See you soon, BWP."

Ghost Tank hangs up, leaving BWP to his devices.

Time to look at more promos.

---

"Doctor, before I even became part of The Asylum, the very first fucking thing I did, was attack Evertrust. I wanted the X-Treme championship belt. Do you think I cared about briefcases? I think not. I just wanted to hold it. You knew that it was the only thing I've ever wanted. How did you not know that when you won the Universal, that I wouldn't want to try and grab the title, so we could still keep it?

But you know what? Let's talk about something else. I'm tired of always speaking about those days.

You are correct in me having dreams about you. About what I would do if I ever got to put my hands upon you. You would fear me, as I take the life from your being. As I destroy you and make you beg for the pain to stop.

And yes, your ability has changed, but so have I, Doctor. I have grown exponentially. Since December, I have become the Intercontinental champion, held it for about a month, but I took a couple months off, and when I came back in March, I have been on a path of destruction and pain. Cain has not come back to action in forever, Mike Emerick tried to take my mantle, and I ended up burning him, changing him and making him into a Freddy Kreuger monstrosity. Macbeth lost to me, when the stakes were at its highest. And guess what? I'm also part of the list of those that have earned Star of the Month. Just as you have.

Taking you serious... Yes, I am. You may have some skill still, but you have never faced me before, Doctor. I, however, have been able to watch you. Watch all your little tricks. All your movements. I learned while I was under your control, Doctor. So while I am going to take you serious, you are still nothing to the growth behind my skill. I have become more than you. At Warfare, I will do what Harrison was going to try to do.

End you. End everything you ever tried to accomplish. End all your dreams.

Now, Soldier. How has your ass been after I shoved the electric dildo up in your ass? The fall off the roof and landing onto a car, that tickled. But getting fucked up the ass by a giant electric dick must still hurt.

Soldier. We'll be facing off again, and I just want to say, it's going to be fun annihilating you and Soldier and take your tag team contendership away. And also, don't even think about cashing in on me. I have a twelve seven lunchbox. Like Gilly once had.

And, the only thing I'm going to address, Soldier, is what you said about my reign. You can talk all the shit you want, but I'm not the one picking my opponents. You can thank Frodo for that. I would defend the title every fucking Warfare, but he wants to try and make me suffer, by going through bullshit matches to try and increase the odds of me losing to anyone. So take your shit about me barely defending the title, just pack all of your shit about it, just put it in a bag, pack it all nice and tight so none of it leaks out. Just get all of your shit together and get the fuck out of here. I don't fucking make the matches, he does. So just remember, you juggalo reject, you fucking Cradle of Filth looking dumbass, to get the fuck out of my face, before I fucking break it.

Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter. Mr. "I Really Wish I Was Petey Williams So I Could Say I Have Talent" Gilmour. You are just ten flavors of fun, aren't you? "Bloody Wounded Pussy" "Ghost ", at least you aren't stealing Scully's "Ghost Wank" OH WAIT! You did in your very first promo! You're actually stealing lines from Scully, from when he was still .

I guess it says everything about your level of intelligence, doesn't it Peter? See, you two don't deserve the tag titles. And you know what? War Pig and I, do. See, he deserves the title, because he's tagged with me, the Hart Champion. You, however, you deserve to go straight into the trash. I mean, honestly Gilly. Why do you and McBride deserve the titles? McBride doesn't deserve the shot at my belt, and you, are a fading star. You both don't deserve a shot at any title. War Pig deserves to actually be taken serious. And when we win the number one contendership, we will face Robbie and Arby, and we will end up winning the titles.

Now, why do you think that's going to happen, Peter? Oh, I know. Because you will have shown that you are my bitch. Same for Unknown Soldier, same for Doctor Louis D'Ville, same for McBride.

Twenty-sixteen is the year of Ghost Tank. It will also become the year of Bearded War Pig. When a rookie has come into the federation and wins the tag titles in his first couple of months on the roster. He is a shining star, as am I. If you don't like it, then you can go fucking cry to Mia Yim. You can whine to Vinnie, you can whine to Frodo. Go whine like the pissy little bitch that you are.

Now listen here, all of you. This Warfare is meant for the Bearded War Tanks to show the federation who is boss. Show them who is truly in charge of the Warfare locker room. War Pig is going to become the wrecker of your shit, while I pull out Doc's other eye.

The screams get louder! They are getting louder by the second!

Can't you hear them?!