Hey all, me again.

Remember that movie thing we talked about? I feel like I need to give you guys some back story on that scene, why was I there, what did I do to get involved in all that?

Let's go on back to 2013 and 2014, and another view of that sweet pink sports car.


2014:

The pink sports car raced through the desert. She had thousands of miles to travel, but nowhere to really go. She had stopped crying, at least.

Her mind was a series of flashbacks now, as she looked back on her life. Her choices. It wasn't like she chose this. The deck had been stacked against her from birth, and she never truly had guidance. Her adoptive parents never wanted her, her "father" sold her to the mob as a play toy to pay off gambling debts, she developed early so she had to fight off male advances since middle school, and she never quite felt wanted in a room even if everyone told her she was.

She was a black sheep. She made her own rules, carved out her own path to survive.

She didn't need anyone else. Sure, she had made some bad choices, but she had made an entire lifetime making the best of bad choices. The last 6 months of her life flashed through her head. It was so clear to her, almost as if she was watching her own documentary through a windshield sized movie screen.

Early 2013

The man was moaning softly under his breath. Some men were so disgusting. It wasn't even that she was naked, she still had her outfit-albeit skimpy as all hell-on, and his pants were on with the zipper closed. The gyration of her hips and her rubbing her downstairs business across his, however, was seemingly too much for him to handle. He had paid the bar for the hour in the back with him, but so far hadn't given her a dime.

She doesn't get naked for free.

She pushed her hips down, the tip of his erect member pressing almost into her through the fabric barrier, and she leaned back against him, her arms around his neck. He kissed and licked her neck, and she tried to hold back a visible and audible gag. A forward and backward giration, and she swore the tip pushed in, pushing the fabric inside of her as well. The man reached down, under her thigh, and unzipped his pants. His meat sword exploded out of his pants, and if she didn't move quick, it would have entered her.

She arched up, moving away from it.

"Uh uh, big boy" she said seductively, "you think I give that up for free?"

The man snorted a bit, but he was so turned on that his speech was a mishmash of haggard breaths.

"Mmmm baby, come on. Just one time. I need it......."

"And I need to pay my bills."

She put her hand down, cupping his balls under his underwear. He shuddered.

"I'll make it worth your whileeeee",her tone was almost sing-songy.

"Mmmmmmm fuuck" he groaned again.

She ran her hand up his shaft, he shuddered again, but then she suddenly let go. It was time to play hardball.

She stood up, getting off him. "I can dance all night, babycakes, but you want a little of this", she pulled a boob out and rubbed it before putting it back under her top, "you gotta give me a little something."

This cheap fuck just sat there, breathing heavy.

Getting on all fours and crawling over to him, she rubbed a hand up her thigh. He was still as hard as the Statue of Liberty. Her hand stopped right before he touched it. He exhaled hard. "Come on...."

She began to blow on it, giggling. Blowing air on it up and down.

"Goddamnit.....okay, okay......I'll give you some money just....uhhhh.....just put those lips on it."

She smiled, giggling again, and blowing air on the lower portion while running her other hand on his upper thigh.

"Mmm....how much?"

He groaned again. "How much do you want?"

She giggled, leaning in, grabbing his wallet out of the back of his pants. She gasped when she opened it. It was more money, in one place other than on the stage after a stage set, than she had ever seen.

Her greed took over, and she smiled a wicked grin.

"This isn't nearly enough to fuck me, hun....but maybe, if you're a good boy....we can work something out."

His response shocked her.

"How much to cum inside?"

Her eyes went wide.

"More than you can afford......daddy......"

He groaned again.

"Mmmm....you little tease. You have no idea what I can afford. I don't want to do it here anyway. I want to take you home.....and once you take a trip there you'll never have to work here again."

She put his junk away, and zipped his pants. "Deal....but you gotta be a good boy here.......no..." giggle, "misbehaving."

"Mmmm....."

"$600 here, as my tip. Additional $1500 to take me home........and another......" she gulped, not even believing she even said this out-loud, "$2000 to finish...inside...."

Without hesitation, he snapped his fingers.....

"Mmmm....deal....now be a good girl and get on this lap."

"BUT.....I have been burned before. I need it in advance......make sure you're the real player you claim."

To her surprise, he handed her the money, and, a little annoyed now, pointed to his lap.

She plopped down, and began to gyrate again, giving him a lap dance. She felt herself begin to cry, facing away from him. She just sold off her own virtue for $4,100. What if he got her pregnant? What if he had a disease? She bucked her hips as he licked her back. She just wished this night was over.

Finally, it was.

The girls were upstairs changing, and the man sat at the bar as the bartenders closed up. His ringed finger closed around his now watered down drink. The bouncer told him it was time to go. He informed him that he was waiting for someone.

One of the other girls, a straggler, Elecktra, came over to the bouncer and handed him $150. "This is from Myst" she said quietly, "she dipped out the back but wanted you to have this." She did the same for other other security guard and both bartenders.

The security guard came over to the man again, and once again told him it was time to leave. He again informed them that he had arranged it, and he was waiting for Myst to come down.

"Myst left about 20 minutes ago" the guard told him.

The man's face dropped.

"She what?"

"She left, brother. You need to leave."

The man's face went red. His hand tightened around the glass until it broke and the blood ran out from his closed fist.

Myst had taken off with over $3,500 of his money, and lied to him, used him when he was at his most vulnerable. "The bitch robbed me" he said under his breath. "She robbed me."

He left on his own accord, quietly. As Myst pulled into her driveway with a relieved smile, he flipped open his cell phone.

A Few Weeks Later:

Myst was spinning on the pole, the strobe lights illuminating her face. It was a quieter night than normal but winter was coming so that was expected. It was about halfway through her set when, mid-spin, she noticed a commotion at the front door. It sounded like gun shots. Two of the bouncers hit the floor. Men flushed in, the girls were screaming, customers scrambled. It was all a rush, a blur, but as Myst finished her pole routine and took to the floor, she felt something smack the back of her head. Weary, she stumbled, as a strong arm grabbed hers and forced them behind her. She was shoved to her knees and a black bag forced over her head.

Hands on her. Many hands. More screams. Then....quiet.

Some time later, the trunk opened and Myst was pulled out. There was a gun to her head when the bag was pulled off. She was kneeling in front of a table, facing the man she had robbed weeks before. His cock was out, and rock hard. She gasped.

"You're gonna make that $4,100 back.......Open up."


"Well well, well.

What do we have here? Atara was clearly more hurt in her match against Raven than we so thought. Oops? I mean, she really wasn't cut out to be a captain anyway. Atara's AWOL actually helps us, because the team is stronger now than it was before by tenfold. I mean, you still have me, so that's a plus....and Felix has proven he is somewhat competent.

Now we have Ms. Direction on the team as well as Michael McBride and the Wizard. Good. That dolphin fucker and potatoe farmer weren't going to pull their weight anyway. But lets make something clear to everyone right off the bat....this is MY team now. This is MY leadership, MY army, and MY victory. If you all do your jobs, I'll take everyone to Pink Berry after War Games. I'll even pay. You're welcome.

But we still have that little teensie weensie problem known as Team Carnes on the horizon. I can't help but giggle like a schoolgirl at the fact that their little wanna be zombie didn't show up and now their stuck with the toxic sludge known as red-x or boring Boris. I mean, high five, right? Great job rafting....er....drafting, there big guy.....really had faith in the XWF's lower class. I guess lower class isn't so foreign to you after all. I mean, shit, you people wash ashore here all the time in much less accommodating circumstances.

Wow. I'm such a bitch, but you love it.

It could be worse. Much worse. You could be on team Main and have Low Mo actually show up, there for not warranting a replacement. That's a fate worse than death. Be happy Liam decided to come out of hiding in between the clearance racks at Zumies and spoke his mind. I mean, it sucked, but you could have Low Mo. Whenever you're down and doubting yourself, Carnes, just remember that....it could have been Low Mo.

This match has went to hell in a hand-basket. The captains are scrambling, and the event is quickly coming apart at the seams. Centurion put his faith in Robbie Bourbon, buying into his bullshit. Cent, I know you've been gone for a bit before returning recently, but you should have asked me. I could have told you that Robbie Bourbon is a fat slob that only cares about himself, and only shows up if food is promised. You're snacks must not have been up to par. Now you're stuck with another loose cannon in Chris Chaos and Tula Keali'i, who I am convinced uses the brush tool on MS Paint to do her eyebrows in the morning. I think its safe to say you're jolly well fucked.

Warstein is down to three as well. But the Universal Champion can handle it, right? He's the best we've got, right? Gag. Warstein is barely good enough to skate by with the team he had, now he's down to some six piece Chicken McNobody and a man who over compensates for his micro penis by making his ring name a sex pun. Sweating yet Shawn? Of course not, you're big and bad. You're confident. Good, but when the top champion in this company doesn't get the job done, it's not exactly a good look. You clearly struck out with Atara, and now you're striking out with your team. Good choices. Good life choices.

Speaking of bad sex puns, who is this Dick Powers guy? Seems like every year there is a new asshole with a stupid name. And they always looks goofy as hell too. I mean, Dick Powers? How do you simultaneously look like you've never been kissed and also been divorced three times? I've seen your profile. I wasn't aware that Daddy Issues was a gender now. You must have been so bummed out that you can't join the military anymore that you decided to give wrestling the old college try. Peter Gilmour and Tommy Gunn? Jeez....talk about the last faces that 9 out of 10 missing kids in Alabama will see. Gunn looks like the kind of snob that only sucks gluten free dick. THIS Shane, THIS is your team? You're monster movie silent killer trope, an ambiguous hermaphrodite in a mask, two guys who look like they have to wear a name tag at family reunions, and a "guy" who looks like the 35 year old girl they use to look like the 15 year old girl on "To Catch A Predator". I am not worried about Team .

The human version of a lisp in Thunder Knuckles already opened his mouth, but does anyone care? Thunder...on a scale of 1 through your nipples, how hard was third grade? I really begin to wonder about the future of humanity sometimes when people like you remind us that you exist.

Robert Main and Chris Page were on my show. Two guys who are bonafied legends around here, but also what redneck kids imagine gay people to be. I thank you for being my first guests, but now coming into War Games you two are the only real threats left in this rat race so you're targets one and two. After I dispatch Hanari and his band of hopeless trolls, I am going to the final and I am gunning for the two of you. That is if you don't rip each others juggulars out first. I don't even dislike you, Main, I don't but please, fix the look. You look like Satan's poodle. You look like you travel by shipping container. But you're damn good in that ring and you won this little bitchfest last year, so....

Page you could use a few fashion tips as well. I mean, that hair? You look like all three Hanson's fucked each other. It's obvious that being successful in XWF doesn't correlate with being successful in society. You and the boogie man of Amish children are the odds on favorite to win. I think that is pretty well known if you ask any of the jaggoffs in the back. That is fine and dandy with me, because we all know that old cliche....the bigger they are....

Neither of you would be the alpha male if you lived in a house by yourselves. Whatever helps you sleep at night. Throw all the accomplishments you have in my face, go ahead, but you both are the haystack that has had one too many needles in it. Eventually, someone is gonna figure you out. Newsflash......its me. You two have built your new images off being "intimidating", but Main hasn't rubbed off completely. Page looks like the middle picture in one of those "progression of meth" graphics, so he has a little catching up to do. He's not quite up to Robert's "pushing the boundaries of facial recognition software" image, so eventually the ugly-envy is gonna over take him. We'll call this episode "McCauley Gets Revenge." Or maybe "Harry Potter and the University of Phoenix." Point is, I fear neither of you. I'm not Chris Chaos.

Carnes, I am on my game. It's over for you. Mastermind, really? The man with the bright future as the unhelpful Best Buy employee? Mastermind, you belong on a poster about fetal alcohol syndrome. The fact you think you are the human embodiment of a plastic 8 ball toy is adorable, but you just don't have the skill inside that ring to be anymore than an over sized curtain jerker. Graves? Your entire career is like the overnight shift. No matter how much you show up and do your job, even to the best of your abilities, it just never gets any better. It's long--too long if you ask me--boring and drawn out. Monotonous. We've seen this same act far too many times to take it seriously. We get it, you're unstable. Is there an award for being predictable? Graves is like that annoying moment when you close SnapChat but the filter doesn't go away. So go ahead, do your thing, be you, keep playing Words With Friends on single player, and stay the fuck out of my way.

War Games just got its newest dose......of perfection.

You're welcome.