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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » March Madness 2020 RP Board
That day Donovan took a trip to a trailer park in Ohio
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The Brothers Blackwater Offline
Vindicators



XWF FanBase:
The 'cool' kliq fans

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


#1
03-28-2020, 09:48 PM




Every eye is on me as I pull the Lambo, into a relatively large, trailer park. Faces up to the glass of their motor home's windows or peering out through the open cracks of doors. All watching, the dust kicking up in the wind from my tires, while I accelerate into the unpaved, dirt lot and come to an immediate halt, in front of a trailer that seems to be missing something, rather essential. For you see, this rustic domicile, doesn't appear to have a door. To embellish upon this further. There is in fact a door located on the premises that certainly must belong to the trailer, it's just not attached to the trailer by its hinges. Instead the door is propped up against the side of the dwelling, not doing much of anything to serve its standard, useful purpose. Anyone could simply walk on in and nothing would stop them; however, considering who this particular piece of property belongs to... I wouldn't recommend it.


Exiting my luxury sports vehicle, I button my jacket and shut the door. Oh yes and I make damn sure to lock it too, mid-stride as I head towards the entrance of my intended destination. My pace; relaxed yet confident, I saunter forward to the threshold of the door-less trailer and remove my sunglasses, allowing my eyes to adjust to the lighting alteration of the interior. What with the primary source of illumination coming solely from the opening, where a door should be in place and all the curtains being drawn, it makes for quite a noticeable change.


Inside there is a virtual crime scene, left from the remnants of take out food, most of which looks to have been obtained from a place called Little Caesars. From the shape of the box, I assume this is a place that supposedly makes pizzas but I hail from New York and currently, I'm standing in the middle of a trailer park located in Ohio. So without ever having consumed their product, I know that what they actually serve is cardboard boxes filled with nothing more than lies. But with the abundant supply of empty bottles and cans of cheap, domestic beer laying about, mirroring the rest of the debris, I'm certain taste isn't the number one, requirement or priority. No, this is bare, basic, primal hunger maintenance, at its finest.


To be truly honest though, growing up I suffered through similar circumstances or worse when it came to meals... and sometimes, I got nothing at all, pending my mother's wonderful brand of "parenting", so I shouldn't judge. It's just hard not to be a snob sometimes. Since acclimating to an existence of privilege and prestige, one that allows me to always claim the very best things in life and money isn't an option or something that I need to worry about. Ever. I never settle for anything less than superior quality, nor do I believe that I deserve anything below it. After all, I fought my way to top tier status and earned the right to claim it, might as well take full advantage, right?


Yeah, I know I'm right, no need to supply any validity.


Shaking my head, I gather my thoughts back on course and cast another glance around the interior of the trailer, my sight now fully accustom to the setting, I am able to observe that there doesn't seem to be anyone home.


This is a false observation.


From seemingly nowhere, Thunder Knuckles rolls out. That's right, in total seriousness and all joking aside, this man rolls out on the floor in front of me, equipped with two cans of Lysol and starts spraying them at me. I get hit with two powerful blasts of lemon cleaner but that's not the worst of it. Oh no, it's not. Not by a long shot. It doesn't matter that one of my favorite suits for this season is fucking ruined... thank you very much, Thunder Knuckles! His onslaught does not end there and the horror only ensues. When Thunder Knuckles leaps up into a standing position, whilst showering me in the disinfectant and that shit shoots me, straight in the eyes. Both of them! At the same time! Thunder Knuckles, literally blinds me with Lysol!


"What the actual fuck?!?! Why??? Why would you do that? What's wrong with you??? Have you gone completely mental?!?!"


I exclaim this as my left hand shoots up to my eyes, which are now tightly closed. The fire that scorches them is tremendous. A hellish torture that I was not prepared to endure. Then again, who would be ready for such an atrocity? This is why you should never approach a home with no door, cause you can't predict the kind of suffering that you will be subjected to when you arrive. Coughing and crying, this is made agonizingly apparent for me. Fuck me. Why did I decide to make this trip?


"Jimmy! Fetch the thermometer! Quickly, now! You have to make sure that he doesn't have a fever!"


Words I hear Thunder Knuckles declare... nay bark, like some kind of psychotic, drill instructor screaming at his cadets in basic training or a really agitated headmaster at an all boys academy, right before the tip of a thermometer pushes its way into my mouth. Oh holy shiza, what is happening? Taking a few calming breaths, I clench my right hand into a fist and curse the recent outbreak of disease and following pandemic, that has clearly brought on Thunder Knuckles hysteria. After a minute or two, the thermometer beeps, thankfully coinciding precisely with the decreased burning sensation in my eyes. I blink, remove the thermometer and stick it out for someone to take, waving it around to emphasize this wish. Rubbing away the streams of water that flushed the chemicals from my eyes, I watch through a semi-squint, while Jimmy grabs the thermometer. One glimpse of its reading and Jimmy sighs with relief.


"He doesn't have a fever."


"He doesn't?"


Thunder Knuckles sighs and runs a hand back through his mess of curls.


"Okay. Good. That's good. Donovan, you may introduce your presence, into my wickedly, awesome abode."


Oh but I am already entering as Thunder Knuckles conveys this invitation and I do not hesitate to punch him, square in the jaw. Hook him right in the gabber and he drops like a sack of so many potatoes, holding his face.


"Donovan! What the fuck dude?!?!"


Thunder Knuckles pops to his feet and immediately goes into a stance, like he was a character on the select screen of Mortal Kombat 2, bobbing and moving, side to side. The only thing lacking was the background music. Otherwise this was a spot on re-creation done in real life.


"I thought we were fucking cool now, but I guess I was wrong."


The sight of this absurdity, melts away my anger, tout de suite and I can't help myself from erupting with laughter. Thunder Knuckles quick and obvious confusion, coinciding with him furrowing those bushy as fuck eyebrows of his, merely increases my mirth and I have to take a breath to compose myself, in order to speak.


"I thought we were too and then, you fucking accost me with Lysol and nearly blind me."


What I say, mixed with the amendment in my attitude, somehow seems to relax Thunder Knuckles stature, which creates the impression that he's taking my words into consideration.


"Yeah, you're right, that was a dick move. Sorry, BDD. You can't be too careful these days though. Fuck. Call it even?"


Future Million X-Bux Man, reaches out his fist, for me to bump it with my own and I comply.


"Sure. Yeah, alright... we're even and for what it's worth, I apologize as well."


"So what brings you by casa del Thunder Knuckles?"


Thunder Knuckles, looks around, scratches at his mop of curls, snaps his fingers and falls back into a recliner that Jimmy perfectly pushes into place, thus preventing him from flopping onto the floor with a loud thud. Jimmy then rushes over and begins clearing boxes, bottles, cans and bags away to reveal a sofa. Along with a coffee table. Meanwhile, TK produces three cans of Natural Ice from somewhere near his small surrounding area, opens one, tosses another to Jimmy and politely lays the third on the now, empty but still far from clean, coffee table.


Obviously, this is an act of kindness and a common courtesy, meant for my behalf. I sit down on the sofa, instinctively unbuttoning my suit jacket and crack open the beer, promptly taking a swallow soon after. Ah, that's the flavor of piss that takes me back to being a homeless, teenager on the run. A time that occurred right after the neighbors called the authorities on my mother, who later deemed her insane and she was eventually institutionalized. Back when I was hiding who and what I was from the world and living in an abandon building.


Good times.


My 'fun' little flashback is quickly ended, when I realize that Thunder Knuckles is staring at me with undeniable amusement, practically exuding off him. It's funny to him that Mr. Fancy Pants, didn't turn up his nose or quibble about the brand or type of beverage that he provided and took a drink. Right from the can too, no less. Imagine that. Will wonders never cease? What he doesn't realize is that his reaction, entertains me even more. Smirking, I retrieve a small case from a pocket within my jacket and set it on the table, giving a tap to the top of its lid as I reach over with my free hand, pick up the beer and take another generous sip. Making sure to hold up my pinky as I do. Proper style.


"I came by to deliver this to you. A token of appreciation, given in good faith in accordance with our business arrangement and budding friendship."


Instant interest scoots Thunder Knuckles forward in his chair. Nodding towards the case, he asks.


"What's that? If it's drugs to help me win my match against Noah Jackson, I don't fuckin' need them. I'll gladly take 'em from you cause who the fuck doesn't accept free fucking drugs but I won't use them to influence the outcome of my fight. They can be for my celebration, honoring my success in becoming the motherfucking, grand, super ultra, X-Bux Champion, pending on what they are and their effects, following consumption. And even if I don't use them, ain't nothing fuckin' wrong with selling 'em for some extra side profit. No offense to you, this is by no means a spit in the face, it's purely about what I'm willing to ingest for the sole purpose of getting fucked up. Not to mention the hustle and the game of gaining that almighty green, whenever, however and wherever I fucking can."


"Understandable."


Momentary pause.


"Yet I strongly suspect, you won't want to sell what I've personally taken the liberty of bringing you. Of course that assessment is strictly based on my own beliefs, when I attempt to see things from your perspective. In hindsight, that's neither here nor there though, because we are two vastly different individuals. Still, one would assume, when given such a benefit as I have chosen to bestow upon you, you'd choose to use it as an advantage in your favor. Rather than squander it away or sell it for profit."


"I am so fucking lost it's not even funny. What exactly is in that case, Donovan?"


"What I brought you today is not drugs, per se. Not anything that you can get high from anyway and yet, they will fetch you more than a pretty penny, should you try to sell them. Especially nowadays, what with everything that's going on in the world, as of late. You see, I brought you restoration and repair, in the form of three vials. Should you get sick, from any virus, you would ingest a vial. Now this is not exclusively referring to Corona or the most recent flare-up of C-Diff 20. This is more of a broad spectrum type of thing. Which basically means... if you contract anything that could potentially diminish or harm you in any conceivable way, this is your cure. Derived from my own dna."


"Whoa."


Thunder Knuckles slams his beer and opens another can, summoned from the unknown realms that he claimed the previous one from. Wherever that unholy place exists.


"That's really..."


Guzzle of beer.


"Fucking bizarre. So this cure or whatever, you're saying it's made from you."


"In a way, yes. It's comprised from my dna. If you notice, I'm not wearing a face mask and that's due to the fact that I am not at all worried about catching Corona or any other sort of disease, for that matter. Being born with 'the gene of E' has instilled an enhancement in me, that can prevent or ward off any illness, long before it manifests or takes effect. Trust me. There's no way in hell, I would have slept with the amount of people that I chose to indulge my desires with in the past, if this wasn't a factor for me. With that being said, I can firmly attest that being gifted with my exceptional dna has also aided me within life in various other ways, wrestling and patrolling the streets as a member of the Elite. The latter being hands down, without a single, solitary shred of doubt, way more difficult and hazardous to one's health, over the former. No joke. I seriously wouldn't have survived... even a quarter of the shit that I experienced on those insanely fucked up adventures, without being blessed with it."


Another brief pause, long enough for me to fire up a cigarette and take a pull from it.


"Anyway, I wanted you to be safe and healthy, what with all the crap that's going on and if there were any way of positively insuring that without fail, this is it. What I'm trying to say is that this is my olive branch, so to speak. It's something my father would do for a friend but can't anymore."


Puff of smoke.


"Not since the 'incident' anyway. So yeah, I figured I'd take a page from the spaceman's book and follow his code or whatever. Feels like the right thing to do in this specific scenario."


Clearly consumed in concentration, Thunder Knuckles strokes his chin thoughtfully. The gears are definitely turning. But what will they manifest?


"In other words, those fucking vials will make me... Invincible! And I can do whatever the fuck I want."


"Haha! No. No, not entirely. The contents of those vials will most assuredly cure what ails you and maybe mend a broken bone or two but you are still on all accounts, thoroughly human. Whereas, I'm a hybrid... half human/half alien and that factors in differently, when it involves the outcome of a situation. Meaning, I wouldn't consume a vial and purposefully try to do things to instantaneously kill myself, if I were you. Generally speaking, any avenues that would lead you immediately to death's doorstep, will still plant you firmly within its icy, cold embrace. For example, jumping in front of speeding locomotives, leaping from planes without a parachute, drinking any fast action poison, shooting yourself in the head point blank with a shotgun... you get the idea, right?"


"Ah. Gotcha."


That's when Thunder Knuckles, lays his beer down on the table, opens the case, snatches up a vial and runs to the door. Where he tosses the vial out like a live grenade, freshly relieved of its pin and yells.


"Take that Corona virus! Fuck you! You fuckin' god damn, motherfucking, pussy ass, bitch!"


Superhero style pose.


"Booyah! You're welcome world!"


With a satisfied smile overtaking his face, Thunder Knuckles sighs. That's when Jimmy closes the case and sticks it into his pocket. For safe keeping.


"Smart man. When should I let him know that did absolutely nothing, and he wasted a vial?"


"In a little while, let him enjoy his moment in the sun."





Quote:hunger for my loins young one fear the burn of my turn in your bed.


"Oh Docktor Trust. Is this what you picture, when you think of me? This is your inner most desire? It must be or else why would you ever, even utter a single word, in regards to such things. I suppose, I'm somewhat flattered. Fantasizing about me, in this sort of lewd, scandalous way but then again, there's another portion of me that finds your sordid, secret lust... simply hilarious. I wonder what poor Helen would think, if she knew you were thinking naughty thoughts about me... another man."


"Oh but we don't have to worry about that, now do we? Nah. We don't because I know your little secret. That's right. I had my brother Ezra look into it and if you didn't know already. When it comes to uncovering secrets and finding the truth, with the aid of a computer, he is just about one of the best and it turns out. There is no Helen. She doesn't exist."


"Oh no!"


"Eek!"


"Egads!"


"Gasp!"


"Shocked face."


"Which means. You made her up! Hahaha! How fucking pathetic can you get?"


"Or wait, I know... you didn't technically manifest her out of thin air, did you. Helen is your fleshlight, right? The one that hasn't been cleaned since the start of the 'war' and yet, you still use it. All fucking crusty, with mold growing in it and a foul smell, that's pretty close to raw sewage, on a hot summer day. That doesn't bother your 'king' though. Nah. No ways. He loves it and you love that he uses it too."


"Fuckin' gross."


"No wonder you ramble on like a man that went and lost every single one of his marbles. You caught syphilis from the 'king' and the virus finally reached the point of fucking with your mind and making you hallucinate. Aw... man that sucks. I'm still going to kick the shit out of you and make you tap but hey, now you'll be able to see a real doctor and he can give you some antibiotics and hopefully cure that dirty, diseased dick of yours. See? Silver lining! Yay!"

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Donovan Blackwater
Former 1x...

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Atara Raven (03-28-2020), bRiaN sTorM (03-28-2020), Thunder Knuckles™ (03-28-2020)




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