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X-treme Wrestling Federation BOARDS » Warfare Boards » "Wednesday Warfare" RP Board
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Angry Ghosts Pt. 2
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XWF FanBase:
The 'cool' kliq fans

(booed by casual fans; opportunistic; often plays dirty while setting the trends)

Post: #1
02-12-2020 06:43 PM

The Engineer drops down into a seat next to his paramour Malcolm, peeling an apple and not so much as sparing a glance at the high tech war room that is setting the stage.

[Image: fd49864c62de13bce2ecaf4dd604c946.jpg]

Most of the seats in the cavernous chamber are empty, but a litany of The Engineer's unsettling hooded cultists stand at attention on the periphery of the room. Madison Dyson is standing at the forefront beside a grizzled looking man in a suit with a buzz cut who just screams ex-military. Malcolm casts a cautionary glance at The Engineer, who in turn proffers up a bit of the skinned apple to him.

Madison shoots a scowl at Malcolm from across the room. Why....

He stays. The Engineer cuts her off before she can even finish the thought.

He is NOT part of our inner circle!

Malcolm leans forward in his seat, more than a bit piqued. Oh, so I can't be in the “inner circle” but somehow Gilly qualifies?

YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT GILLY! The stodgy military man grows even more rigid and uncomfortable in the face of Madison's exhortation. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. You know what? Not today. We got bigger problems. She gestures to the man beside her. Let me introduce to you to Sergeant Major John Ellis, formerly of the United States Marine Corps and now my liason with Blackwater Military Solutions. Thank you for being here, John.

You are very welcome Madison.

So what's with the suit? The Engineer points his paring knife in Ellis' direction.

Oh good, I can see we're already ready to treat this with the REQUISITE LEVEL OF SERIOUSNESS IT DESERVES.

Madison, you haven't even told us what “this” is about yet.

Madison sighs deeply. First off Malcolm, shut the fuck up. And second of all, I'm getting there. Madison pulls out a clicker and points it at one of the massive screens embedded in the wall. Check this shit out.

The image on the screen shifts into what appears to be black and white CCTV footage from inside a bank. John Ellis starts to narrate the scene.

At approximately 2:12 PM yesterday afternoon at a bank branch just outside Flint, Michigan this woman which you will now see approaching the teller identified herself as a Shannon Temple....

Indeed, on the security footage we see a gaunt blond haired woman approach one of the tellers. Her entire bearing seems decidedly off. Not nervous per se, but certainly out of place like a quintessential fish out of water. She's enveloped in a long jacket that looks to be swallowing her, and her curled hair is unkempt and jutting out in random directions.

She attempted to make a withdrawal from Shannon Temple's account, but did not know the pin number of the debit card. There was also the small matter of the real Shannon Temple being found dead on a rural road about 75 miles from here the day prior, her neck was snapped and her toddler's skull had been cracked open and left to bleed out in the middle of the street.

Fuck.... Malcolm breathes.

After failing to access Ms. Temple's account, you see the woman....react accordingly....

On the footage, the woman reveals a gun from beneath her coat, unloading a round into the teller's head causing a geyser of blood to paint the bank logo on the wall behind her. The bank's interior is instantly thrown into chaos, with customers hitting the floor and the other tellers diving for cover. We see the woman disappear out of the camera's view then, only to reappear behind the counter pressing the gun into another teller's back and forcing her towards the bank vault. Moments later, the woman reappears from the vault alone but splattered in blood, carrying a large bank bag. The CCTV footage suddenly cuts out.

Ellis ties his arms behind his back and steps to the fore again. This woman killed 13 people in that bank branch. One employee who was on break managed to survive by hiding in a storage closet.

Malcolm looks slightly dismayed, but The Engineer just shrugs. Hell of a news story, but what does it have to do with us?

Mr. Engineer, the employee who hid managed to overhear some of this woman's rantings before she fled. Before she killed two of the customers, execution style, she demanded to know where YOU were and identified herself as Lux.

Madison makes an expression as if to convey “ain't that some shit” but The Engineer....laughs? Okay, okay! So let me get this straight, we're getting all hot and bothered about some lunatic XWF fan pulling a bank heist? Listen, what's your name...Jim?


John. If you're that worried about the threat this woman poses why don't you just send one of your teams in to take this psycho out?

We did.


See for yourself.

The main screen changes again, this time to a tactical night vision camera mounted on a helmet. The Engineer sits back in his seat, taking a bite of the apple while Malcolm watches intently.

We were able to track this “Lux” to an abandoned gas station about another 20 miles east of this bank early this morning, thankfully before the police or the FBI could get on scene.

A hushed voice with a Southern twang can be heard whispering preliminary orders to a tightly bunched group of men in camo gear, flak jackets, and other sundry mercenary accoutrements.

Wait, Madison, is that Tex on point?

Yeah, why?

Tex can't find his ass with both hands.

Madison snorts derisively. Uh, Tex made Kandahar his bitch.


Ellis's lip twitches at the Engineer's blatant disrespect, managing to stay poised, but pointedly does not look at the screen. The unit moves in under the cover of early morning's night towards a dilapidated gas station, walking with the shadows as they draw in closer. Two of the squad mates circle round the back as the rest shimmy up to the door. Then, with a burst of motion, a large figure that had been outside of camera range rushes the door with a portable battering ram, which splinters the point of entry. In another flash of motion, as soon as the battered door swings open, two flash bangs are lobbed inside, followed by the aforementioned Tex clearly shouting “Go, go, go!” as soon as the brilliant flashes subside.

What happens next is chaotic to the point of inscrutability. From outside the building, there comes the chilling sound of two death screams. Tex mutters a profanity under his breath in response and you see two members of the squad rush towards the entry point they just battered down. But, in a burst of commotion, those two bodies are felled. Tex curses again as a sliver of a figure appears in the door way...the woman calling herself Lux. Her eyes glow with a beastly incandescence under the scrutiny of the night vision camera. Tex raises his weapon to fire but “Lux” dips behind a rusted rack and out of sight. Tex gives pursuit, circling around the other side of the rack. Once again, the action is too fast to track. All we see is something thrown in his direction. Tex screams and the camera is suddenly pointed to the floor, and then, the whole image spins and the shot is now on the ceiling.

“Lux” steps up to eclipse the shot of the ceiling, peering down into its all seeing eye as if from on high. She bends low, and its clear she's equipped with a knife. Kneeling down over the body, she sets to work with a grim determination, her lips parting to utter hushed unheard recriminations as she does...something. However, its clear in short order what exactly she was doing. Her hand pulls back into the camera's view and at first it's difficult to tell what she's holding. It becomes somewhat more clear when she draws up her other hand, stretching what she's holding out like a grisly cheese cloth. Tex's face.

Holy fuck! Malcolm barks, clapping a hand to his mouth.

The Engineer's eyes are locked on the image now, taking this quite a bit more seriously than before.

“Lux” holds the face aloft like a prize as she begins to speak into the camera. Bleed it out. Stretch the flesh. Bleed it out. Stretch the flesh. Bleed it out. Stretch the flesh. She repeats the words over and over again, her face starting to quiver ad spasm with unchecked rage until finally she screeches. THE ENGINEER! THE ENGINEER! THE ENGINEER! THE....

The image cuts to black as Madison hits a button on the clicker. She basically just screams your name for about another 5 minutes before she bails.

The Engineer props his elbows up on the table, face tied down into a grimace. Who the fuck is she?

“Lux”...duh! Madison intones sarcastically.

Ellis clears his throat. We don't know who she is exactly, but she's clearly highly trained. We're searching all databases for those who may have been discharged from military service for mental health reasons or....

Wait...Malcolm holds up a hand. Are we SURE this isn't Lux?

Madison chortles incredulously. Does that bullshit LOOK like Lux's M.O.?! Besides, I offed that bitch personally. She's dead! This ain't Lux it's....she whirls her hand dismissively towards the screen....some other nut job.

We need to tell Aiwass. The Engineer concludes stolidly.

No, we can handle this. We need to muster up another team, a bigger one and....

I'll take care of it.

The room goes silent for a small moment in reply to the declaration. Malcolm wheels towards The Engineer in surprise, but Madison gets the first word in. Noooooope.


Whaddya mean “why”? Honey, you're the face of this movement. If this bitch gets lucky and turns you into a stiff what then?

I agree with Madison, you saw what she did to those Blackwater guys.

The Engineer shakes his head. She's going to eat anybody else alive. I'll go, with a team if need be. But I'll go personally

Madison tosses her hands up in frustration. And what the hell makes you think you're gonna be the magic bullet?

Malcolm puts a hand on The Engineer's wrist, drawing his attention. Can we talk about this in the hall, please?

With one final glance at Madison, who makes a flippant “go ahead” gesture, The Enginer leaves his seat and follows Malcolm into the hall. Malcolm immediately sets in on the other.

Why do you feel the need to do this?

You heard the bitch. She wants me.

The young man paces a bit, doing a half turn before shooting The Engineer a pleading look. She tore off a man's face!

The XWF champion's expression changes subtly, looking almost inquisitive. Malcolm, what's going on here?

What do you mean?

You're being.... he chooses his next word carefully.... protective.

So? So was Madison. You're important to....

No. The Engineer silences him, but not maliciously. This is different. You were terrified in there. You feared for my life.

You are important to this movement! Malcolm exclaims. You're important to.....! Suddenly, he clamps his mouth shut, looking down at the floor and quieting his tone as though confessing a secret shame. You're important to me.

We talked about this. You and I. We talked about this.

I know! I know!

The Engineer sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose in consternation. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you can't....

Malcolm claps his hands on The Engineer's shoulders as a rush of fear takes hold. You don't need to worry about it! I'll deal with....the feelings. I'll figure it out.

Reaching a hand up to gently chuck Malcolm's chin, he takes a step back out of his embrace. See that you do. He turns back towards the warm room door and, without looking back, utters one final suggestion. Maybe take a cold shower while you're at it.

A Little Later.....

The Engineer is alone in the war room now, feet propped up on the table before him as he leans back in the seat. On the main screen is a frozen night vision shot of “Lux”, eyes blazing with the fire of a setting sun. She looks feral, savage and untamed. Her thin lips pulled back into a horrific blood thirsty rictus, slim body like a coiled spring stretched to the limit and ready to snap. Taking the remote, he shuts the image off, rendering the screen pitch black once more, before addressing the camera.

Ironic that this particular hungry ghost should find its appetite now....

A smirk perks up The Engineer's lips, but for all the smugness the bottom half of his face is trying to convey, something deeper lurks elsewhere. The eyes have it, as they say.

Kicking his feet down, he cures himself of his more contemplative bearing before looking right at the camera.

Azrael, I heard it loud and clear the first time. You won't be using your powers. I mean, I realize you were probably pressed for content given that you have all of jack shit on me, but still.

So what do I think of your “secret”? What secret might that be Azrael? The secret of how you are somehow a galaxy tripping being of nigh limitless power who still somehow manages to suck bollocks on a regular basis?

The secret of how you can keep a straight face as your son unironically calls you a “hero” despite you not lifting a finger to save or, by God, even AVENGE three of your dead friends until I gave you PERMISSION to do so?

Let's take the ball and run the yards on that last one again. It's funny that your proverbial “front man on the human centipede” offspring Donovan made an oblique reference to a word other than savior being bantered about vis a vis you. My guess?

That word is coward.

Probably not the one you guys were thinking of, but a fitting one nonetheless. Because it sure as hell takes a coward to let the deaths of three friends go completely unresolved until the beneficiary of those deaths called you out directly. I got a few other words to go along with.



Self-serving wanker.

I could go all day! But yes, Azrael, the fact is that you are allllllll those things and MORE!
He waves his arms like a commercial pitch man going on about all the new features of the latest wonder mop. What MORE are you?

A colossal waste of roster space.

A has been.

A relic.

The punchline to the world's worst Aristocrats joke.

Oh, it's true, it's all true and you know it! No one takes you seriously anymore. Nobody even pays attention to you. Your promos are guaranteed to be dull masturbatory drivel every single time and moreso than that, it's a complete crap shoot whether you're even going to give a shit well enough to win the match.

There was a time in the XWF when your name was synonymous with victory, and I can see why! Because there probably was a point in time where you could get away with using your superhuman abilities AND conning management into forcing your opponents into C-4 Scaffold Murder Matches on top of it. It explains a lot! But times change and you've been forced to change with them. Now, people are wise enough to see through the facade. Wise enough to see that tossing around people who weren't fortunate enough to be birthed from the pages of a science fiction epic might not be a good look for a supposed “hero”.

And yes, as you so cannily pointed out ad nauseum to meet those contractual promotional obligations, this is a Glass Cage match. Guess you won that one after all. And try as you might to convince the world that reigning in your powers equates to “no advantage whatsoever”, you DO still have that advantage here, don't you? Why sure you do. Advanced healing factor this and alien biology that, well, it's no wonder you were so quick to try to press gang me into another tiresome ultraviolent gimmick match.

Again...COWARD. For the record.

But hey, I'm not going to sit here and grouse forever. No. That's not me. But you know what is “me”? Winning. With style! So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to lay out exactly how I'm going to turn your advantage into mine. I'm gonna play the cards face up. And I'm still going to win.

Now, seeing as how you're Space Jesus and can ultimately just will away any permanent damage from this match, I'm going to reckon you're not going to be taking this quite as seriously as me. I mean, there would be that whole “revenge” element adding fuel to your fire, but we've already showed that to you a friend in need is just a cluttering irrelevancy in the face of the ongoing space opera wank fest that is your life, so it really just boils down to good old fashioned self preservation, doesn't it? And self preservation is just not something you have to worry about, is it “Dr. Sue-Who”?

But self preservation IS something I need to worry about. Both in the sense of maintaining these ludicrously good looks and keeping myself afloat as the preeminent purveyor of misanthropy in the entire world. Now you may be asking yourself how that is MY advantage and not yours? Simple. You're going to get sloppy. You don't have nearly as much invested in this match and you are just the type of egocentric pisswit who is going to try to shrug off all the temporary damage you sustain in this match because “fuck long term consequences” until it's too late. I can't look at this match the same way you do. I need to cover my ass, be mindful of the damage I take. The hurt I absorb won't just miraculously disappear the moment that bell rings.

What does that mean for you? It means you're going to have to fend off a determined XWF Universal Champion with a lunatic focus who is hell bent on eradicating the last lingering vestiges of Lux's influence in the XWF. I will meet your blasé indifference with the unassailable, unwavering malevolence of a laser guided missile.

You have made it crystal clear that you just don't want this as much as I do. Hell's bells, you could barely string together a couple minutes of half assed shoot for the guy who essentially spit in your face and said “fuck your dead friends”.

“Does it make you wonder?”

Yeah, bitch, it makes me wonder how far your head is up your own ass this time. It makes me wonder what you actually DO give a shit about. It's ironic really, with your level of utter indifference you would probably be a PERFECT candidate for Aiwass' army if it weren't for your complete obliviousness.

Thankfully for me, I've got another fish to fry to keep life interesting. I'm willing to take on a second dance partner though if you're willing to stop being such a lame duck.


[Image: Engy1.png?width=650&height=420]

[Image: OW3ycxe.png]
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