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~~Brandon Moore~~ · (11-26-2016)

Atlantic City. Home of the Miss America Pageant since 1921. Known for the casinos, the boardwalk, and the beach. Inspiration for the American version of Monopoly. What a place. Dreams come true and dreams die in Atlantic City. That's exactly what's in store for when the XWF comes into town for the Wild Card Weekend. The weekend is going to be top of the line crazy. The first night throws a bunch of scrubs into a championship scramble for the Federweight title. Three on three action decides the Trios title. The X-Treme Championship will be decided in the main event. What a first evening for the Wild Card Weekend. Night two gets even more “Wild.” The Television, Hart, and Universal Championships are all on the line. That's a fucking lot of championships.

Eyes are going to be all over the opening contest of the second night of action. Newcomers galore. A four-way dance to get a foot in the door and scream to the world, “Fuck these other guys, I'm the shit.” One fall to a finish, so these guys have to be on their toes. One, especially, Brandon Moore. The other three guys have no idea what they are getting into. A world renowned technician and aerialist is coming to toss their dreams in the dumpster. The garbage truck will come and take them to the landfill, where they belong with all of the other garbage. The world will get to know Brandon Moore just as his opponents will get to know his fists and feet.

The Atlantic City Bar and Grill on Pacific Avenue is the place to be. Do you choose the bar or the grill? Why not both? Brandon doesn't drink, but he doesn't mind hanging out. Maybe he'll grab a cheeseburger or some chicken strips. You know, something simple. Food and drinks aren't the entire reason for his arrival here, though. He's meeting a couple of old friends. Wait, friends? Okay, they may be old, but certainly, they can't be Brandon's friends. Can they?

Brandon creeps up behind them as they down their drinks at the bar. He thinks twice about surprising these two scoundrels. He'd rather wait for his match up before any unexpected attacks. He pulls up a bar stool, takes a seat, orders a water, and starts to peruse through the menu. The two “old pals” take a minute before they notice him. He didn't have the same scruff on his face the last time they all saw each other. Brandon finds some humor in them taking such a long time to realize he has taken a seat at their side.

“I can't believe you actually showed up. Brandon fucking Moore in the flesh.”

“Nice to see you guys, too. How's long's it been?”

“Not long enough, if you ask me.”

“Yeah yeah yeah. I'm not fucking proud of this either. We've all beaten the shit out of each other a thousand times over. And now here we are. Friends?”

“Call me a friend of yours again and I'll bash your damn head through this bar.”

“What he said.”

The two...not friends finish the remainder of their drinks and slam them down on the top of the bar, obviously annoyed with this whole situation.

“What's the saying? If you can't finally kill the bastards, join 'em? Something like that. So here I am, coming into XWF and they've smacked me with a match this weekend.”

“Congratufuckinglations, Brandouche. Welcome aboard the bandwagon.”

“I'm not saying thank you.”

“Show some manners.”

“Fine. Thanks for the mighty fine welcome there, feller. Yeehaw.”

“You can fuck right off with that.”

“Enough bullshitting. You guys got in touch with me and I was stupid enough to answer the call. You heard I was coming and I about shit myself when I got the message. We're really fucking doing this? Brandon Moore...and you two? This is happening?”

“It sure seems that way.”

“You bet your fucking ass it is. I don't like it.”

“Me either.”

“It's a lollipops and rainbows for me! I'm so fucking giddy, it makes me want to puke. Are you fucking kidding me? Of course we don't like this! If I had to choose one of you to save from a burning building, I'd add wood.”

“Ha...that was actually a good one. A real fucking good one.”

“Don't encourage him, man. We sat down and thought long and hard about this. Don't fuck it up and make us regret it.”

“Oh, I have no doubt this is going to end up totally fucked. So let's live it up while we can, boys!”

“Quiet the fuck down. I guess we've got no other choice. You're sure we want to fucking do this?”

“What's there to lose? I'm locked in a fatal four-way at the start of night two. We've got plenty of time to catch up and remember why we hate each other. Let's kick some names and take some ass!”

“Cheers to whatever the fuck that means.”

The three raise their new glasses to the sky and just as quickly pull them back down.

“I'm not shaking your fucking hand.”

“I couldn't even imagine.”

(OOC: Oh my god the rust. Thanks for reading!)

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