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Marf · (12-04-2021)

Sometime after Bad Medicine goes off air

Our triumphant hero, Marf, stands before us, a satisfied looking sneer pasted across his sweaty mug. Coming off a gratifying and definitive victory over Schism, Marf beams with confidence. Now number one contender to the Xtreme title, Marf is practically pulsating with pride and arrogance. He stares straight ahead at the camera, his bold blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Well would you look at that! What did I fucking tell you people. Every last stinkin’ one of ya, what did I say? I told you all I was getting my vengeance at Bad Medicine. I said I was going to show Schism what happens when you take on Marf without silly snowman stipulations or reindeer games. I let the world know that when all was said and done, Marf was walking out of Bad Medicine with a clean win. And would you look at that, here we are at the end of Bad Medicine and I’ve done precisely what I fuckin’ promised!

I walked out there tonight and I fucking delivered. Schism brought his best, everything he had learned from his entourage of coaches and washed up curtain jerkers. And I’ll give that acid trippin’ fuckwad a smidge of credit, he tested me tonight. He did not make it easy on me in any way. But despite his best efforts, I still shut him down. I still got up from all his best shots. And I still dropped him directly onto his fucking head before securing that three count. Just like I fucking said I would.

Marf gives a mocking bow, a surprisingly solidly positioned curtsy. He nods nonchalantly before continuing.

So if any of you out there watching doubted me, let tonight be a hard learning curve for your dumbasses. Whether you’re on the roster, in another federation or sitting at home watching like the pussy you are, never forget what happens when anyone steps in the ring with me. I fucking win. I’m not even just talking about what I did tonight! Look at Relentless, where I walked into a tough matchup against the comeback campaign of Talia Areano. She hit a fucking brick wall named Marf and all her precious momentum was taken from her when I walked away with the win.

I banked a Supercontinental title shot with that pay per view victory. As for what was left of ole Talia? She stumbled her way along for a few more pathetic weeks before fading back into irrelevance where she fucking belonged. All thanks to a crushing loss to yours truly. There’s a damn good chance Schism chooses to follow those happy little trails after what I did to him tonight. Can’t really say I’d blame him. Perhaps he can head up North and go back to playing with snow men…

Marf pretends to pack a snowball, a real crisp one at that, and then tosses it at the camera. Good thing it isn’t real though, those cameras are fucking expensive and Vinnie Lane can be quite the little bitch when it comes to any extra expenses for the company. Yikes. Marf smirks.

So with the Xtreme championship shot I’ve just earned comes a new challenge. A brand new challenge in fact, by the name of Bam Miller. I was looking forward to another crack at my buddy Jim Caedus to be honest. Another war with one another, laughing and spilling each other’s blood for that belt. Giving everyone a fuckin’ show because we’re two of the heaviest hitting brutes stomping our paths through XWF. But the kibosh on those future plans was made by little Bam Bam when he won the Xtreme title earlier this evening.

But that’s okay, I for one happily look forward with excitement at the prospect of a brand new opponent to face off with. I am already filling up with anticipation for when Bam and myself can trade fists and bruises. I saw what you can do with sneak attacks and hitting folks from behind Bammy, but I want to see what you can do when you have to stand face to face to someone like me. Someone who wishes for nothing more than to bring you the sharpest of pains and most torturous of injuries. Start counting your days Bam Bam, Marf is coming for your ass and that fuckin’ title!

We prepare to fade out from Marf’s impromptu promo but he doesn’t leave the locker room. He shuffles over to the bench and sighs slowly while taking a seat. There is no fading out just yet. Instead we stick around with everyone’s favourite sociopath, Marf! He looks up as if he heard something but then shakes his head solemnly.

…and there we go…

The arena has emptied out of rambunctious fans and is mostly empty now other than a few staff members cleaning up thousands of bottles, cans and other litter. The ring is no longer lit up by the bright lights, instead it sits in darkness, mostly taken apart by the ring crew. Inside the depths of the arena, sitting in numerous locker rooms are winners and losers from the night’s events. Some rooms are filled with laughter and hollering of joy from the likes of Big Money Oswald, Tara Fenix and Apex.

Other rooms are filled with angry silence, rage fuelled excuses and a whole lot of swearing from Elijah Martin, Rampage, Betsy Granger and others. And of course, back in this room all by his lonesome, sits Marf. Elbows resting on bruised up knees. Head down, eyes closed and breath slow but steady. A hard fought victory over Schism behind him now. Revenge achieved, as it had been promised. Yet here sat Marf, silently reflecting while the night faded into early dawn.

…was that the medicine needed…?

Marf’s body stiffens up while the hairs on the back of his neck reach for the stars. He slowly lifts his head up while opening his eyes and squinting. Marf looks around the room carefully while drowning in confusion.

What?

Marf scans the empty locker room cautiously with his cold gaze but spots nothing. He leans back and runs his hands through his short, thick brown hair. He softly closes his eyes once again and thinks to himself.

Don’t lose it now…we got our beautiful revenge on that son of a bitch Schism. We proved to be superior, as always. And we did it all on our god damn own. Now that she’s gone…now that we, scared her away. Possibly permanently. That fuckhead Damien had a beating coming but maybe not to the extent of what I wound up doing. Maybe one day I will even miss him, look back fondly at some above average memory with him. I should have controlled my anger better than that. I shouldn’t have caved his head in.

And thanks to that unchanneled rage, she finally saw my truest colours. The darkest ones that even she hadn’t believed possible. Or maybe she always knew and just denied accepting how bleak my madness actually was. All obstacles aside, it wound up being me driving that final nail into the coffin that is our relationship. She was fucking gone. There was no going back from this one. All that is left is for the dirt to be piled on top of the coffin.

Marf shakes his head softly before slowly lowering it into his hands once again. He tries to think about everything that has happened over the past few days but his thoughts are clogged. Frozen in his mind while all Marf can hear is a screaming, winter wind. His flesh breaks out in goosebumps while he shivers, feeling the frozen snowflakes beginning to cover his body. Even with his eyes shut Marf can only see a blinding white as though he was standing in the middle of a horrendous blizzard.

Marf tries to run but stumbles and falls forward, landing in a heap of cold snow. He pushes himself up, hands quickly turning blacker than coal with frost bite. Marf tries to get up but only manages to sink further into the impossibly deep snow. He opens his mouth to shout out but the fluffy white powder fills his mouth and stifles his voice. Marf opens his eyes but the snow is all gone and he’s still seated in the locker room all by himself.

…so you feel better now right?…

Marf straightens up and bolts up to his feet this time. He begins to prowl the locker room, looking for anyone.

Who the fuck is in here!?

Marf paces around the locker room for a few moments but cannot outrun what he already knows. Nobody else is in there with him. He needed to get his things and leave. Maybe if he just got out of the arena and went home he would snap out of this funk. Except, there was no longer a home to go to. Not without some sort of conflict or police involvement. Marf could only imagine how Lycana would react if he was to show up. And that is assuming she hasn’t changed the locks already on him.

We have to see her though…I have to see her. She might despise me for what I did to Damien, but I must see her at least one last time. She might be able to tell me what is going on in my head…what these new nightmares might mean. Unless she chooses to rip my apart limb from limb instead. Which I certainly would not blame her for. Damien was her friend, and they shared a special bond beyond words. I may not understand her transformations and what they do to her but he did. They shared that burden.

And then I went and snuffed his ass out. Knowing full well the type of consequences that it would bring, I still couldn’t stop myself from stomping in that smug face over and over again. Until it was ground down to tender meat, brain fragments and pieces of skull. Until his face was just a gaping hole. How the hell else could she possibly react when she sees me again other than tearing me apart? It doesn’t matter now…I’ve dug my own grave and I’ll simply have to lay in it. I have to go see her though…

Marf grabs his gym bag and flicks out the lights for the locker room. He gets to the door way before placing a hand on the frame and stopping himself for a moment. He knows the hell he could be walking into but he had to do it, he had to go to Lycana’s. Marf tries to give his head another shake as if one of his ears was water logged. He closes his head for a moment, trying not to think about what was happening. A wretched voice snuck out of the darkness and lightly tapped his shoulder.

…everything fades beneath the stains of time…

Fuck off…

Marf abruptly leaves the room and quickly makes his exit from the arena. He begins the journey to Lycana’s house as we fade out.

You move, like I want to.
To see, like your eyes do.
We are, downstairs.
Where no one can see.

New life, break away.
Tonight,
I feel like more.
Tonight I…

You make, the water warm.
You taste foreign.
And I know, you can see.
The cord, break away.

'Cause tonight,
I feel like more.

Somewhere and time before getting to Lycana’s place…

As always, we have the privilege and honour of opening up to that beautiful mug of the one and only Marf. Those pearly whites basically wave back to us, strange how the most psychotic people have the best dental hygiene. Marf clears his throat and we are ready to go.

Time sure flies when you’re having fun, doesn’t it? One second I’m enjoying a night of retribution at Bad Medicine and a blink of the eye later we’re now almost at another lovely Saturday night Savage. On tap is a triple threat with my ole pal Betsy Granger and the shitty Clint Eastwood of XWF himself, Centurion. And the most exciting part is that it’s an actual wrestling match! No extra stipulations or themed bullshit layered on top. Just three hard working competitors battling it out on a classic Saturday night.

I would love to go on about how exciting that is but I’m pretty sure you both would see that bold faced lie. As would everyone else. It is no secret I don’t like either of you. Betsy the time travelling troll stole the television title off me only to turn around and pass it off to Charlie Nickles. You really showed me how it’s done, Bets. Bravo, fuckface. As for Centurion, well I’m sorry bud but you just bore the ever loving shit out of me. I mean shit man, you already technically have a win over me because I didn’t give enough shits to bother showing up.

Marf gives those broad shoulders a playful shrug before going on.

Now maybe for ole Centy that long ago victory means something. Record books don’t show context or excuses, just wins losses and draws. So with this upcoming match I now have the opportunity to correct a past mistake. I’m not heading into this only focused on Betsy like a lot of people will assume. I am very much laser focused on ripping Cent from his high horse and dragging him through the mud for a bit. If you think for a second, Cent, you know what to expect with me then you’ve already fucking lost.

Ya see, I didn’t give a fuck about you last time when I should have. I listened to the sound of your voice during a promo and was put to sleep for almost a month. I’m pissed at myself for allowing it to happen but it’s okay, I’m going to take it all out on you Centy. How about we test out those rickety old bones and see just how durable you really are these days? I am curious to see what breaks first, your ribs or your back. Don’t worry Cent, I won’t charge extra if it’s both. Hell, that’s kinda my fuckin’ goal.

Marf feigns snapping something brittle in half. That devilish grin and devious glare tell us all we need to know about how bad Marf wants to do it in person.

And while we’re on the topic of goals, beating the dried piss out of Centurion isn’t my only one for this match. Getting my hands on that crusty time traveller Betsy is barely a week away from coming to fruition. I hope you didn’t think you had moved on from me Bets. You rolled off a pile of destroyed wood before I could and got a win but you didn’t get rid of me bitch. I’m still standing, still healthy, still here wanting to squeeze your throat until the blood vessels in your eyes burst. I don’t care if I pin you or Cent, I just want to make you suffer, Bets.

You better be paying close attention this time around, I’m not letting you leave without bleeding a few pints at least. That’s right Bets, stop combing through your 70s pubic hair for lice and ticks and listen the fuck up. I’m coming for blood. Go ahead and gloat about stealing the television title or being 2-0 against yours truly. None of that is going to help you escape me this time. None of our history will save you from the vicious assault I’m about to bestow upon you. I will beat you down and spill your blood across as many galaxies as I can.

Argue against it if you like Bets, it will only make it that much more satisfying for me when I destroy you. So go on and flip flop with your recent struggles to stay decent. Those of us that see through the bullshit know deep down you’ll always be the goodie two shoe. The fan favourite…as if those peons’ opinions mean shit. But that’s okay with me Bets! If the sweet XWF fans and higher ups love you so, then I will make you worthy of their fuckin’ love. But it’s only in the face of horror that you will truly find your nobler self. So, I will bring you pain…

Marf slowly raises his arms up, palms facing the ceiling of whatever damn room we’re in this time around. He grins sadistically.

I will bring you horror. So that you may attempt to rise above it. So that you Bets, hell, either of you two manage to survive a night in the ring with me… If you boring fucks actually make it out of the hell on earth I bring at Savage, well then you will be worthy of all that love. So even though you both will undoubtedly suck the fun out of this encounter, I am still going to find a way to fucking have it. And it will be at both of your expenses. So come at me with your past victories and redundant speeches about my tag team days as if they have any bearing on this match, and I’ll be sure to smash your teeth into dust. Whether you’re an archaic waste of space with the ability to soften any cock just by speaking or your just Centurion, I’m going to obliterate you.

And just like that, Marf dusts off his heavy hands and smirks while leaving while we fade out.

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