ENGY RECAP! Since the beginning of his run in the XWF, the Engineer has been rumored to have an amorphous tie to a cult of worshippers of a pagan god of slaughter named Aiwass. In fact, as a boy Engy was subjected to a bizarre ritual, with the implications of this rite still not being fully grasped. Nonetheless, Engy harbors a link to this...Aiwass. Later, in the run up to The Engineer's second match with Jim Caedus to win the Universal Championship, he encountered a strange being named The Archon of Extreme, in a dream like recreation of the XWF's fabled 24/7 hallways. Incidentally, Engy has also been communicating with what is either the disfigured ghost of Jim Caedus....or a psychological manifestation of the same....

The Engineer wakes up with a start, cranking his head this way and that as he takes stock of where he is. It's not the first time he's woken up in unfamiliar surroundings. It is the first time he's woken up in unfamiliar surroundings where the walls were bleeding, however.

Oh, sweet.

Engy looks down to see that he is seated in a plush La-Z-Boy recliner, which is also spattered with blood. Before him, a long ponderous hallway yawns. A hallway which, save the disconcerting amount of blood, is pretty nondescript. Engy chuckles. Last time I buy from Shane 's dealer.....

He pulls himself out of the recliner, allowing himself a stretch, before sauntering down the hall and hopefully out of the bad acid trip he finds himself in. He's barefoot, and leaving imprints of blood in his wake as he walks the hall. Coming to a corner, he turns and takes a peek. It's another bloody hall. Not winning any points for creativity with this one.

Always with the jokes!

The voice booms out, seeming to echo out from the walls themselves. Engy betrays a little surprise, snapping himself around to look down the other end of the hall. But it's still nothing but a gory corridor stretching to infinity. However, slowly, a smile forms as recognitions tugs at the back of his memory. Oh, I remember you....

I should hope I was a formative experience!

Suddenly, the walls around the champion start to dissolve and fold into each other, pulling back and leveling out into the floor creating an infinite flat plane where once existed walls and ceiling. It extends endlessly into a black horizon. And then, rising up before The Engineer out of the blood is a macabre throne. The arm rests and back of the seat are constructed of human skeletons, intertwined with each other so thoroughly that it's impossible to tell where the corpse of one poor bastard ends and another begins. Seated on the throne is a familiar face.



The eerie figure, with his corpse-like face and soulless eyes, spreads his arms out majestically and crosses one leg over another. Jogging any more memories?

Engy walks closer to the throne, waggling a finger as he contemplates. Yeah, I DO remember you. But a little foggy on the name. You'll have to excuse me, sometimes it gets hard remembering all the people in my head, ya know? It's like the world's worst Bat Mitzvah in there sometimes.

Hmmmmm.... The figure scowls. Why do you keep dancing around me like this?

Engy looks a bit confused. Two step? Or maybe that stupid dance all the kids are doin'? He shakes his head. What are you on about?

The Archon of Extreme considers Engy, with more than a hint of disdain tugging at the unnaturally taut flesh surrounding his thin lips. You and I were going to rule the world, Dexter. That was the plan....my Engineer. You, rising to fame and prominence competing in the gonzo world of pro-wrestling. Making a name for yourself in the world of entertainment all the while you dabbled in the world of politics. Hobnobbing with the right imbeciles, using Madison's connections and political acumen to establish a Senate campaign. It would have worked too. In a world so vapid that reality TV stars and action movie celebrities hold the purse strings of power, a figure with your following would have been a shoe-in. He leans forward in his seat, pointing at Engy with one unnaturally long, claw-like finger nail. But then you gave it all up didn't you? And for what? Some petty trinkets? I can make you some more, if you desire....


The Archon tosses a title belt down to Engy. Engy holds his hands out to catch it, only to jerk back in alarm as the championship turns into a mound of snakes once it hits his hands. He casts the snakes to the floor and looks up at the Archon bitterly. I got it. I got it. Lose the disguise.

The Archon smiles, his face creaking in protest. And then, his body ripples, like a wave passing beneath his flesh. One undulation. Two. Then, his chest puffs out unnaturally, suddenly expanding to twice it's size. But this is but a precursor to further horror, as a black tentacle spouts from the unnatural mass, bursting forth in a shower of black ichor. The Archon is not surprised by this. In fact, his face is dead and expressionless, like an animatronic that just had it's plug pulled. His left eye rolls back in his head and pops out of his skull as another smaller tentacle issues forth from the socket. The remainder of the transformation is so fast, so violent, that it is over in a flash. The Archon's body explodes and expands into a virtual pillar of biomass. A black tower of writhing pseudopods, the bark of this sick tree peppered with feverishly working maws shot through with broken teeth the size of small European cars. It rises into a backdrop of far away stars from a galaxy that is impossibly remote from our own.



Engy's mouth gapes in spite of himself, overcome by the sheer magnitude of the horror. And yet, it's familiar too. He knows this thing. Aiwass....

yOU sTiLL neeD ME!!!!!!!

The voice comes from all of the creature's terrible mouths at once, a teeth shattering sonic assault in stereo. The Engineer screams and presses his palms to his ears and....

Here....?

'Eng! Hey, 'Eng! Wake up, bro!

The Engineer jostles awake once again. His den is a haze of chronic and other drug paraphernalia. To his left, the apparition of Jim Caedus is kneeling next to him. Engy picks himself up off the floor.

That is the LAST mothafuckin' time we....

....buy from Shane 's dealer.... Engy finishes the thought. With a grunt, he rises to a seated position.

Jim looks at him with his one good eye, wiping away the pus from the other empty socket as he does so. Hahaha! You seen some shit?!

The Engineer looks dreamily around him, almost questioningly. Finally, his gaze settles on Jim. Or what's left of him. Yeah...yeah I definitely did....

Later....

Pardon the smell, but I come here to clear my head sometimes....



The shot pans backwards to reveal that Engy is walking past row after row of butchered bovine bodies in a slaughterhouse. He pats the nearest one, and his hand comes away a bit slimy. He grimaces, walks up the camera operator and wipes it on his shirt. We hear the camera guy gag in response, but like the consummate pro he is he just keeps rolling. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. They don't pay you guys enough. They don't!

He sighs and stops to consider the wall of death. Jackie, you ever feel like maybe you're not in control of your own destiny? Like somebody else is pulling your strings or maybe has a hand up your ass, controlling what you say and do? Kinda like that Jeff Dunham guy but maybe not an unfunny hack? You ever feel that way? He pushes the toe of his shoe against a piece of meat that had dropped on the floor. I know you do. You always got that lunatic drunken Scotsman telling you what for. Which, in your case, is not a bad deal. Fact is, ya kinda need him. You're the kind of guy that needs a wacky foil to propel the hijinks. But me? I dunno.... He flicks his hand in the air, making a circular motion as he tries to find the right words. Mine's more like this, existential, cosmic horror-y angst that chills me right to the bone, ya know? Like maybe there's this THING inside me that I cant shake, no matter how hard I try. It's....ehhhhhhh...fuck it. I'm here to tell ya why I'm gonna kick your ass, not wax all philosophical and shit!

He shoots a pointed look at the camera. And Jackie, I'm GONNA kick your ass! Shit son, I just made living legend Michael Graves tap the fuck out last week! I punched hole number 6 on my “Top 50's to Beat” list. Only 44 more to go and I get a free sub from Blimpie's! He mouths “score” and fist pumps. Now here's the deal. I can tell you're a man of a somewhat nervous disposition. So let me put your mind at ease. While I AM going to kick your ass, it's not going to be one of those “send a message” ass kicking's where I break something inside you physically AND spiritually, but mostly physically...and forever! No, no, no,no!

This is just gonna be the “Diet Coke” of ass whuppings. I'm gonna dominate you. It's GONNA hurt. But I still want you to stick around. Why?

Engy collapses into some giggles, bends over and slaps his knees.

Because you're funny as shit, that's why! Or at least, the Scotsman is and you make one hell of a “straight man” to his senile old drunk schtick. Oh, and that PRIMO pair of yabbos you featured recently...? Engy gives a big old thumbs up. My point is this: when you lose to me, don't get discouraged. Everybody loses to me. And that's not even ego. It's just a fact. Singles match streak STILL in tact. But I want you to stay Jackie. Maybe lose some of the wetness behind the ears, build yourself into one hell of a brand, and take another run at me down the line. Jesus, I seem to be saying that a lot lately.

But I mean it. You may not exactly be intimidating, but you are something that most of the people in the XWF aren't: entertaining.

Engy points at the camera with a reproachful expression on his face.

Now, now....I know what you're thinking. Not you, Jackie, I KNOW you're still thinking about them titties. I mean the rest of the locker room. “Boy oh boy, Engy's gone easy on the last three guys he's faced. He must be losing his edge.” And, well, you can take it that way I guess.

Or you can not be a fucking . I'm not going soft fellas. In fact, I am ACUTELY aware of the way the board looks right now. Leap of Faith? Somebody's walking away with a briefcase. I am embarking on the most dangerous period my reign has yet faced. Because let's face it, I've proven over the last year that it takes nothing short of a small army to take and KEEP me down. And that 24/7 briefcase is the workaround for my dominance. I'm a realistic man. I understand my time with the championship may very well be limited. Why Jackie, it could even be YOU getting that magic bullet that will finally rip this championship from my grasp. I kinda doubt it...heh. But it's technically possible.

But let me be crystal goddamn clear. The only thing that can POSSIBLY stop me is a cash-in. And don't make the mistake of assuming I won't be taking every possible precaution to guard against that. And even if somebody does successfully cash-in?

I'm coming for you. And the only thing worse than me as champion is me as CHALLENGER.

He takes one last look at the rows of meat hanging from the hooks before refocusing on the task at hand.

If it seems like I'm looking past you Jackie, well, it's because I am. Sorry/not sorry, as the kid's say. But hey man, remember....not an epic beating! And if you make me laugh....? He leans in towards the camera. There may even be a couple sneaky shots of Madison's TIT-TAYS in it for ya! Ciao funnyman, see ya on the flip side!

End.