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X-treme Wrestling Federation » Warfare Boards » Warfare RP Board
An unexpected Gift (Continued from "I bet Phil's a nice guy by Cadryn Tiberius)
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"Dark Warrior" Micheal Graves
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#1
01-21-2017, 12:59 AM



I tried.

I put everything that I had into that match.

I still came up short.

Thaddues Duke was right.

He said that I would learn from failure.

I learned something all right.

I learned that I'm holding on too tight...

I've lost my edge.





2004, a few days before Micheal Graves is set to challenge Killjoy for the XWF World Title.




“In just a few days, the World Title is going to be mine!”

Terry Blackstone, Micheal's closest friend and manager nods in agreement.

“Who in the fuck does Killjoy think he is? Last week he wins the XWF World Title in what could only be considered an upset. Now suddenly he thinks he has the balls to take on The Dark Warrior? Please bitch, go back to throwing pies or playing with hand buzzers, or whatever it is that being The Prince of Pranks makes you excel at. Because the minute that you signed the dotted line to defend that belt against me, you also signed up to drop that belt! ”

Micheal looks over to Terry making a face like fuck this guy, right? Before turning his attention back towards the camera.

“Prince of Pranks... What's that shit about anyway? You want a prank? You like jokes Killjoy? Well I've got a one, two, prank, joke punch for you. When I beat you within an inch of your life, and I take that belt, it'll be a hell of a prank! When you wake up from your beating the following day, and realize that you are no longer champion you're title run will go down as the biggest joke in XWF history!”


Terry Blackstone excitedly smiles and nods while patting him on the back.




01-18-2017, 14 days away from Micheal Graves first rematch with Killjoy in 13 years.



“I can't do it, I don't think I can beat him...”


“You've easily dispatched Killjoy before, why would you say that?”

Micheal falls back on the bed and lets out a frustrated sigh while continuing to hold the phone close to his ear.

“Because it's true Terry, I just don't have it in me anymore.”


“Where's this coming from, is it because of Thaddeus?”

Micheal pauses for a moment.

“Yes...”


There is a short silence before Micheal continues.

“No... Thaddeus may have driven the point home, but this is something that I've felt long before I decided to come back.”

“You're just working off ring rust, besides Thaddeus is a heavy hitter. There's no shame losing to him.”

“Would I have lost to him 15 years ago?”

“Maybe”

“Terry...”

Micheal says with an unimpressed tone.

“Like I said, maybe.”

There is a short pause between the two.

“I've lost it Terry... I'm holding on too tight, and I've lost my edge! I thought it was my age, but that's only part of the problem.”

“Okay?”

“I've become domesticated, man! Thaddeus thought that he riled me up. He assumed that he lit a fire in me. That I had found my passion. He was wrong... Sure I was upset, but there was no fire, not even a spark.”

“...and why do you think that is?”


Micheal takes a few seconds to think about his answer.

“I don't know if it's the family, or because my hearts just not in it anymore. Maybe I'm just too old, and this new generation is just too good.”


“Okay that's enough of that shit. You need to get your head back in the game. You've lost a match, ONE MATCH! Furthermore it was against a top level opponent, in case you have forgotten, that shit happens”

“...”


“Are you sure that your not just another guy pretending to be Micheal Graves? Because the Micheal Graves that I used to know wouldn't be sitting around throwing a pity party over loosing a match. The Micheal Graves that I used to know would instead figure out what mistakes he made in that match, and try to learn from it.”

“You're right...”

“Of course I am. You lost that match before it even started. You lost it because you spent two weeks worrying that you weren't good enough. Self doubt kills more dreams than failure ever will.”

Micheal's eyes shift from one side of the room to the other as a grimace covers his face. He knows Terry is right. He lacks confidence, and that was ultimately his downfall with Thaddeus.

Suddenly before Micheal can even respond, there is a knock at the door.

“Terry, give me a sec.”

Micheal walks over to the door and peers out the peep hole. I'm be damned if it isn't XWF owner Vincent Lane. Micheal wonders what he could want. Perhaps he's here to appologise to Micheal for the shitty room.

“Terry, I have to go...”

Micheal presses end call as he opens the cabin door for Mr. Lane, greeting him nervously.

“Mr. Lane, um... what brings you by?

Vincent exhales a vape cloud so large, that for a moment Micheal is completely engulfed in it.

“I just wanted to say, that was a hell of match. Keep turning in performances like that, and I can see you going places!”

With that Loverboy zooms down the hall on his hover board, leaving a vape trail behind him like a locomotive.

Micheal stands there confused for a moment, Vinnie didn't even give him a chance to get a word in. Finally he shakes his head, snapping out of a daze and heads back inside. Micheal sits back down on the edge of the bed. Sitting there in silence for a moment. He lets out a sigh as we fade to black.


01/20/2017, 12 days away from Micheal Graves first rematch with Killjoy in 13 years.


Ah, the great city of Pittsburgh. After spending the last two weeks stuffed in a small room on a boat that's destination was probably the coldest damn place in the world. Lets just say it's good to be home, and that 43 degrees feel pretty damn warm. I'm heading down to the old car lot. I've closed the place down since returning to the XWF on a full time basis, but I still have a few things to take care of down here. Like selling off my remaining inventory, and moving all of my stuff out so that I can cancel the lease I have on the lot, oh joy.

A black sedan pull into the front of the lot. Micheal steps out of the drivers side, dressed in black boots, jeans, and a white button up shirt that is only buttoned up half way. What's up with old dudes trying to show off chest anyway? Why is that always a thing?

“Hmm, that's odd.”

Micheal says as he notices as particularly large crate sitting just outside of the front door of his auto dealership.

“I don't remember ordering anything.”


Micheal walks up to the crate and realizes that there is a small box sitting in front of it that seems to have a note attached. Micheal picks up the box and opens the note to read.

My dearest Gravy,

With this ring, I thee wed..

Wait, nope. That's not it. 

So, I leave you with this special gift.

I went above and beyond the call of friendship for this..

With that being said...

LOVE ME, FRIEND?!


Micheal laughs to himself as he shakes his head.

“Jesus Christ, that guy.”





***I SUGGEST YOU HIT PLAY ON THIS ONE***

***I SUGGEST YOU HIT PLAY ON THIS ONE***






Micheal precedes to open the small box, and to his shock and utter horror what he finds inside is a severed human hand.

“HOLY FUCK!”


Micheal throws the box containing the hand on the ground as he jumps back like that hand is going to come to life via some sort of evil force and try to kill him. Micheal looks to the large wooden crate. Suddenly he realizes that he can hear a faint moaning coming from inside. Micheal quickly pounds on the side of the crate.

“Hello!? Are you okay in there!?”


Then an all to familiar voice echos from within.

“Let me out of here you psychotic fucking asshole!”


Micheal's eyes widen as he instantly realizes that Bruce Campbell is in the crate, and that must... oh God, that must be his hand laying in the dirt.

“Bruce sit tight, I'm going to get you out of there!”


Micheal fumbles with his keys to get into the shop. Once he gets the door open, he is in and out in a jiffy. Micheal, now armed with a tire iron begins prying away at the boards that form this crate. He pops a few loose, and sees a bloody and delirious Bruce Campbell crammed inside of the crate.

“Bruce give me your hand!”

Bruce looks up and Micheal with a menacing look that would scare even the toughest of man.

“Oh... right...”


Micheal reaches in and pulls Bruce out of the crate. Bruce has his right arm nub tucked under his left arm and is holding the arm close to himself with his left hand.

“Bruce are you okay?”

“Do I look okay you jack off?”

Micheal helps him to his feet and points to the black sedan.

“We need to get you to the hospital, hop in!”

Micheal hurriedly helps Bruce over and into the car. Micheal hops into the drivers seat and floors it into reverse.

“Did you find my hand?”

“Fuck, right!”

Micheal slams the brakes and throws the car into drive, pulling up to the front of the store again at a dangerous pace. Micheal hops out of the car and scoops the severed hand of Bruce Campbell into the small box that it was delivered in. He then hurries back to the car and haphazardly tosses it into the back seat as he almost jumps into the drivers seat all in one singular motion.

“Bruce, hold on tight!”


Micheal peels out of the parking lot as he realizes that Bruce is cutting him that WTF look again.

“Oh, right... Sorry.”

Micheal and Bruce speed down the road going about 95. Weaving in and out of traffic, and running every red light they hit.

“Listen up screw-head, I appreciate the ride to the hospital, but how about we not kill me before I can get my extremities back in order?

Micheal ignores Bruce's request and continues flying down the road. This is about the time that Micheal ends up drawing the attention of a city cop. Oh well, Micheal's not about to pull over now, not when Bruce Campbell needs his help.

“I'm so sorry Bruce, I really am!”


“Sorry for what? You're not the one who cut off my paw, and stuffed me into that crate!”

Micheal nods, maybe in agreement, or perhaps because his nerves are downright shot right now.

“No, I didn't, but the guy who did, did this for me. Apparently he is trying to earn my friendship, or love, or I don't even know at this point!”


Bruce seems absolutely unconcerned with whatever the story is right now. He's half out of it and in pain. He just wants to get to the ER. Micheal slams the breaks, sending Bruce Campbell's head smacking off of the dash, knocking him out cold. Micheal winces at the thud that Bruce's head makes as hit smashes against the dash, but at least they've made it to the hospital. Micheal jumps out of the car and runs inside. The cop starts to run in after him, but notices Bruce Campbell sitting in the car with a huge gash on his head, and a missing hand. The officer decides to attend to the injured actor rather than try to arrest Micheal Graves. Not too long afterward a team of paramedics run out with a gurney to collect the fallen actor and his severed hand. They rush Mr. Campbell into the ER for an emergency surgery in an attempt to reattach his hand.

Micheal now standing in front of his car as he just watched them take Bruce away mutters to himself.


“And here I thought Killjoy was going to be the cause of all of my stress and anxiety this week.”
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