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X-treme Wrestling Federation » Warfare Boards » Warfare RP Board
Inadmission of Your Impending Annihilation
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JimCaedus Offline
Trash Talker Skywalker



XWF FanBase:
Mixed

(loved by some; hated by some; dips between clean/dirty)


#1
02-14-2017, 10:34 PM

::The propaganda on the sign as you enter this rural realm of reprobates reads:


OLD PHELAN TOWN

The Champagne of Climates


With a single exception I've never wanted to kill one man more than he who'd chosen those words.

Phelan's "champagne of climates" can be more aptly described as consistently frustrating; maintaining an uncomfortable minimum of 85° in the spring and fall seasons, pushing upwards with a more than stifling 115° in the summer then crashing down into the catacombs of below freezing in the winter.

If you ask the locals they'll tell you December in the High Desert kicks off their most beautiful three months of weather and, for all intents and purposes, they're correct. Unlike Apple Valley, Hesperia and Victorville, Phelan resides within close proximity to the San Gabriel Mountains, catching the high elevation chill that allows for snowfall and the highly desired "white Christmas". To watch the drab and dead palette of browns and yellows disappear beneath a blanketing of pure, sanitary white snow it is indeed a sight to behold through panes of glass.

From the inside.



Here on the outside, for the poor creatures whose lifecycles end in the cold, the unfortunate beasts caught out of their element and the homeless, this beauty translates to death.

These are the thoughts swirling about in my head as Holly, Amethyst and I walk down Sheep Creek Rd picking our way through the filthy, muddy banks of snow that border either side of the cracked and pitted asphalt. Our footwear is soaked through, toes numb and wrapped within the frigid fabric of our filthy socks, our spirits as low as the temperature.

We'd been driving into town to take advantage of the shelter offered by the Catholic church for those less fortunate, on this of all days, when we'd puttered to a stop, out of gas. It'd taken nearly two hours to hoof it from the illegal and unregistered '97 Ford Explorer in which we cohabitate to Arco and back with a two gallon gas receptacle.

As if that hadn't been enough, the family within the particular house alongside Sheep Creek Rd where we'd left our four wheeled home, had chosen to ignore our running out of fuel in favor of watching us through the window within the confines of their undoubtedly cozy and comfy living room.

It's Christmas Day 2015 as well as Amethyst's fourth birthday.

Now as my trembling hands attempt to hold the fuel receptacle firmly in place while the overpriced gasoline pours into the tank, I notice Holly and our four year old birthday girl inside the vehicle watching the two children through the living room window tear open gifts with inaudible screams of joy, the parents side embracing with smiles plastered upon their faces.

Amethyst, already freezing, now suffers further as tears stream down her cheeks witnessing what should be hers. Holly cannot help but succumb to the despair herself and by the time I'm climbing over the passenger seat into the driver seat my anger is reaching critical mass. Holly gets in, sniffing silently, working at disguising her own sadness from Amethyst herself who is so fucking cold and weakened from what had started as a full blown wail that all her tiny body can now muster is a heartbreaking consistent sob that threatens to set me aflame.

How dare those motherfuckers ignore us. How dare they not offer small town strangers, on this day, a warm room for my girls to sit in while I deal with the snow. How dare they not then generously plant the seeds of hope within them with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate. Is that too much to ask when spying a little girl in need regardless of the season? I wanted to kick down their door and slaughter the lot of them.

That wouldn't help my family I decide, so I choose a second, nearly as unwise option in a mind clouded by rage and desperation. I refuse to let anything stop me from fixing this in the moment. I refuse to allow this to be, I intend on proving myself a misguided hero for my girls so I drive us to Rite Aid in town instead of the church homeless shelter.

Holly has no idea what's happening as she lets me out and I tell her to keep the car running.

I push a shopping cart over to the storefront, lift, and toss it through the glass doors of the entrance. The alarm sounds, echoing through the vacant parking lot.

I run to the holiday aisle, snatching as many toys and as much food, drink and candy as I can carry and I run back out to the Explorer.

I open the back, shove everything in to an awaiting Amethyst who doesn't realize what I'm up to and I return inside for more.

I return from my second trip and tell Holly to take the wheel before I offload my second armful. I tell her I love her. I tell Amethyst the same with a "merry Christmas sweetie and happy birthday", and I revel in her beaming smile which by fucking Christ makes it all worthwhile. Then I order her to take Amethyst to the shelter, without me.

Thankfully she doesn't require an explanation. The sheriff's substation is right across the street. Responding deupities will be here any moment. I'll keep them busy while they get away. It's a bittersweet gift I give myself in the heat of the moment to allow my family some modicum of happiness even if it means my arrest. Fuck it. It's a small town. I'll take whatever wrist slapping punishment they bring upon me and be out off this first official offense in due time.

Holly knows all this as well but I can see in her eyes her unwillingness to leave me behind. I nod to her and smile, a nudge...and my ladies leave.

I take a seat on the pavement and await the authorities.

My worst memory returns and instead, I watch helplessly as the Explorer with my family rolls towards the inevitable end, engulfed in flames which morphs into our trailer the following year burning to the ground with Holly and Amethyst inside it::





"Inadmission of Your Impending Annihilation"



I awake in my hotel room in El Paso, soaking in the residual rage, allowing it to fill me with the darkness I'd recently discovered, through the unlikely words of one Han Solo himself, could be used as fuel, focus and strength against that which opposes my forward motion and momentum.

Without a second thought, having already reviewed the Bourbon Men's opponents' most recent promos earlier in the day, I ready my phone for my own response.

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

"No more jokes. No more comedy. Robbie can handle the lighter side of our warfare and he never needed my assistance in doing so. My true strength lies in my ability to overcome through the route of hatred, rage and revenge.

Killjoy, your refusal to bring your A game makes me sick. If that WAS your A game, leave. You'll not be making any sort of impact in the XWF against Robbie and I. Period.

And Cadryn, you act as if your predictably pathetic ploy wasn't already called out days ago. You fool no one but yourself. You do what I tell you you're going to do. You're nothing but a moldable mound of clay that Robbie and I have been mashing into shape from the beginning. You then take the nod as if no one saw it coming. You say I never gave you any credit, a lie, but now in light of the circumstances, I withdraw all objective observations and instead inform you: you and Killjoy are going to be utterly dismantled in that ring tomorrow night. Your 'tricks', your desperate last minute attempts to prove with words what you'll not be able to in physical combat...weak and disgustingly wasteful of your last moments as a man without a loss on his record. Robbie and I will see to it that you reap what you sew and shut your fucking trap. You deserve nothing less as the arrogant sack of shit you've proven to be.

That was your secret weapon by the way? Darren dipshit Dzirado? Darren, for sticking your nose in the business of the Bourbon Men, should you ever be unfortunate enough to face either of us, you'll be dispatched in the most harrowing of ways and sent back to preach your gospel in a goddamn wheelchair. But fuck that ignorant Bible-thumping thot of God. What _you_ fail to realize, Cadryn, what you never _could_ coming from a background lacking in true tribulation, is that God...God helps NO ONE. There is no miracle awaiting you in round one of the Lethal Lottery; there is nothing but the two men you face seeking to put you down and silence you, even if only for the moment, as the outspoken disease infecting the XWF you are and have been. On the subject, I doubt anything less than severing your spinal cord and removing your fat fucking head from your shoulders will ever shut you up permanently and perhaps some day you'll push me to the point that I do just that. Faith, Cadryn? Fuck faith. The power of God? There is only will. Not God's will, the will of man. Robbie's will. MY will. Ask the many unfortunate flocks of misguided sheep how far faith in God got them when one with the will to set their churches aflame did so. Look to the victims of theft, brutality, rape and murder and find what it means when those with the will to enact their choices to bring destruction upon their fellow man do so. Ask ME what my worship of that false force ever did to spare MY torturous life. This is why the saying, "bad things happen to good people" exists. This is why people demand of the heavens why God allows such horrors in life. If you can't do it yourself, it'll NEVER get down. EVER. There are only two types of people in this world. Perpetrators and victims. You, you're a victim. You couldn't defeat me the first time and you won't do it this time. Why? Because my will, even when weakened in my distracted state at the time, was more than enough to keep victory from your grasp...and now, my will is going to prove more than enough to teach you the lesson you sorely need: failure. That is what you are in context with me, Cadryn, a failure. You'll never be as strong as I am in any mental or physical sense of the word. Your will in comparison to mine is akin to that of a child believing his protests and struggling will be enough to thwart the buckle-end of my parenting belt before it flays the flesh from your backside. You're nothing but a snot-nosed fuckin' kid incapable of dealing with his own shortcomings, too stubborn to accept responsibility and admit that he simply wasn't and ISN'T good enough to get the job done. The next child of God that will receive a cruel education in reality: there are some things you just cannot change and some fights you simply cannot win. You're the smart ass punk teenager, taunting and teasing, who talks too much shit, unable to back it up when crunch time is upon him. An unfunny little shithead who never got his ass beat and needs it. I hate people like you. I despise them. I've broken a multitude of your kind down in the past and Robbie and I have broken YOU down during our donnybrook in fact, but you obviously need more punishment. Consider it done. Your comeuppance will arrive swiftly and deservedly so, with much pleasure I might add, at the hands of the Bourbon Men. You're going to feel the sting of humiliation, Cadryn, and if you're man enough, you'll have the good grace to adopt a more respectful and cautious approach towards this business...towards Robbie. Towards me. I don't expect it, I already know you'll continue to copy, to depend on the work of others, to fake your way through this promotion and annoy. You'll continue to allow your enablers on the roster to puff you up, to keep your inexplicable ego in place even as you make the rest laugh at you. You'll do this because you're an idiot and you can't help it. God won't help you come to these conclusions, Cadryn, Robbie will..._I_ will. God won't see you snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, he won't even be in the fucking building. You'll be wondering if God even EXISTS while the Bourbon Men are pummeling you half to death. Allow me to hit you with the spoiler: as pertains to the happenings of humankind, he DOESN'T exist.

As the clock ticks down towards your impending demise and ousting from the tournament there is only one concept that should be rattling around in that empty skull of yours: defeat. You thought losing your smile was hard enough, just wait. Pray, Cadryn. Pray with Darren for your salvation. Waste more time with that fuckin' moron, he can't and won't save you. Killjoy can't and won't save you. And God...God can't and won't save you. Fuck God, Cadryn, I'm Jim FUCKING Caedus, my partner is Robbie MOTHERFUCKING Bourbon. WE...we ARE the Bourbon Men...and YOU...you and Killjoy are the first sacrificial lambs we intend to bleed out for our own selfish salvation. WE are men of WILL and nothing...NOTHING...you do is going to stop us. That light at the end of the tunnel isn't heaven, it's unrepentant, irreverent reality on the motherfucking rocks. And this...this is game. Fucking. Over.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

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~XWF November 2021 Star of the Month!! (3rd time!!!!!!)
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