December 20th, 2021, Bainbridge Island south of Vancouver

The gentle splashing of the low waves causes Marf to stir from his already light nap. He blinks his blue eyes a few times before remembering he’s in a boat but unsure where at this point. The motor had died sometime in night. Without any oars, Marf was left to drift along blindly. He wasn’t even sure how long he had been out there since leaving Vancouver. He sits up and takes a long look around at his surroundings. The small boat had come to a stop at the shoreline. Marf hops out of the boat and shoves it back out into the water before standing on the banks and watching it slowly drift back out.

Back out to what he left behind. Marf looks down at himself, more specifically at the splattered blood along the top of his shirt and left collar. Marf closes his eyes and can still see the old fisherman at the dock back in Vancouver. The look of terror in the old man’s faded green eyes as he realized he was about to die. The choked scream as Marf plunged the sharpened tree branch into the side of the old timer’s throat. The oily, thick smell of the blood gurgling out of the wound, splashing Marf in the process. The darkened waters swallowing the aged fisherman whole as soon as Marf dropped the body off the end of the dock.


The sarcastic voice shatters through Marf’s thoughts as he immediately opens his eyes in shock. Marf turns and looks beside him where Damien stands, staring out into the early sun rise.

The fuck are you doing here?

Marf is prepared to throw fists but Damien simply looks over at him and chuckles. His face is all sorts of mangled but yet somehow still functioning. One of his eyes is completely white now while the other is darkened and blood shot.


What is there to figure out? You’re not real. I killed you, somehow somewhere deep down a tiny piece of me apparently feels bad about it. Guess that’s why I’m seeing delusional visions of ya. I don’t really know and I don’t really fuckin’ care.

Marf turns and tries to leave, ignoring his supposed hallucination. He takes a few steps before Damien is suddenly directly in front of him now. He sneers at Marf while a trickle of blood sneaks out of his left eye. Marf huffs and tries to brush by but Damien grabs him and tosses Marf a few dozen feet away. Marf crashes into a small hut for life guards, splintering through the wood like a giant bowling ball. Marf has no time to recover as Damien is already standing right in front of the fallen Marf.


Oh fuck off, you’re trying to blame me for whatever the hell this is? You and I both know damn well that blue haired bitch played around with bringing back people from the dead before. How do you know she didn’t do it again with you and fucked it up as usual? Now you’re stuck here? She was a god same werewolf that was becoming more and more well versed in the dark arts and beyond, like fuck I have anything to do with this. Why don’t you poof your ghostly ass out of here and find her so she can fix whatever this supernatural bullshit is?

The form of Damien looks at Marf furiously before grabbing him out of the pile of wrecked wood. He leans in close as if Marf couldn’t already hear him. Marf winces at the over powering smell of decay coming off Damien.


Marf brushes by Damien and starts walking away while the supposed apparition sternly follows him.

Christ, you’re just as stubbornly stupid as a god damn ghost as you were when you were alive. She obviously did this out of spite. One last little jab before fucking off like the coward she is…


Damien comes running up beside Marf as he leaves the beach and finds himself walking on a sidewalk. The sun is slowly beginning to peek out at the new day while it is still fairly quiet.

You fucking moron of course she would! Nobody actually mattered to her other than herself. You think she’s off somewhere being a saint while it’s my damn fault you’ve been conjured up? You may be dead but you can’t possibly be that naive and stupid! She cared more about that little banshee child we were raising and she happily left her child behind for weeks at a time for her own selfish needs. She’s not off somewhere doing better things because she moved on from me. She ran away from her problems, cooped herself up somewhere in a hole while playing her favorite role of all. The victim.

You meant about as much to her as I apparently did. As anyone that was foolish enough to become involved with her toxic blue ass. She coasts along playing all sorts of roles. The role of dark vixen, the role of cult leader. The role of werewolf, the role of dark magic caster. The role of loyal partner, the role of caring mother. I can go on and on but none of that even matters. The role that was always there for her, embedded in her fuckin’ DNA was the role of victim. Your death was nothing more than a chance for her to stay in that victim role longer than usual.

You’re a small, minuscule piece of her puzzle that borders on insignificance on a good day. Now accept that and move the fuck on because I don’t have time for this shit…

The first, early morning bus of the day approaches a nearby bus stop. Marf shoots across the street and enters the bus after it stops for him. He drops some change while getting on the bus and then heads to one of the seats at the back. There is only one other person on the bus, a small woman huddled in one of the middle seats. Marf passes her and sits down at the last seat at the back. He sighs as he notices Damien is already sitting beside him with a frown. Marf groans softly to himself and mumbles at a low volume.

Why don’t you fuck off??


You are not alive dummy!

Marf spins to face Damien and then sheepishly looks up the aisle as the woman is looking back at him curiously now. He nods and looks away until she turns around. Marf sighs and puts his head in his hands to think for a minute.


…no, I’m fine on my own thanks…


Marf begins to tremble like a volcano about to erupt as he rises his head from his hands.

Will you fuck off with the riddles and go back to whatever Hell you came from!?

As Marf explodes he quickly realizes Damien is of course, no longer there. The woman is once again glaring back at him, more annoyed than curious this time.

Oh fuck off and mind your own business.

The startled woman rises out of her seat while Marf watches her in confusion. Under her massive winter coat, multiple tentacles begin to slither out while she shakes and grows. Her eyes flash a harsh yellow.

Oh but my dear, it really is my business!

The tentacles smash several of the seats around what used to be the little woman on the bus. Marf tries to get up but the bus driver freaks out and the bus begins swerving along the road wildly. The lady’s head has turned into a lion’s head while her legs are morphed into grizzly bear ones with thick brown fur. One of the now massive tentacles wraps around Marf’s leg and starts pulling at him. Marf grabs hold of his seat but the tentacle drags Marf towards the center of the bus. As it pulls him closer the bus smashes through a guard rail and flies over the side of a bridge.

The bus sails through the air while Marf and the monster woman slam into the ceiling. It comes crashing down into the river front end first, killing the driver on impact. Marf and the monster slam into a wall of water as everything goes dark. Marf struggles under the water before trying to swim to wherever the surface is. Everything is blurry under the water but Marf can see light and swims towards it. Just before he breaks the surface a tentacle once again wraps around him and he is pulled, face to face with the deformed beast.

You can’t run from your past forever…

Marf struggles to break free but is running out of breath. Finally he screams and falls forward. Marf tumbles out of his seat and throws up in the aisle of the bus. The little quiet woman looks back at him in disgust while Damien bursts out laughing from beside Marf’s seat.


Marf looks around for another moment with confusion before crawling back into his seat. He tries to ignore Damien as we fade out.






Well, we’re not getting quite the usual open but it might as well be. Instead of staring into a mirror or the deep dead parts of the camera, Marf is staring into the Xtreme title he is holding in front of himself. His face is blank and stoic with a faint trace of rage hiding behind those blazing blue eyes. Marf speaks up without taking his eyes off the title.

This has been a long time coming, where do I even begin?

Marf closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before turning to face the camera and opening his eyes back up. He looks as psychotic and poorly rested as usual.

From the moment I stepped foot into this company I’ve been told I’d never get to where I am now. In the early days I was brushed off as nothing more than a curtain jerker, years away from even being good enough for the mid card let alone main event. Then I attached myself to a group of who I thought were like minds. The Left Hand. Very quickly we put the roster on notice despite all the jokes. We hurt a lot of people in a short amount of time. Then almost all of the group ran away when the going got tough. But I stayed, I took the brunt of the insults and attacks for what we did.

I absorbed all that abuse while always being told I’d already peaked. What I did with the Left Hand was my climax, I had nowhere to go but down. And yet, while bearing the weight of that burden, I marched on and collected multiple titles along the way. I ended one of the most impressive streaks in xwf when I took the Television title from the red hot Charlie Nickles. But still, so many of you motherfuckers were right there to downplay my accomplishments. Call my big title win a fluke. Spoke of me like nothing more than a one hit wonder.

Marf takes a moment to relax his grip on the Xtreme title as his fingers and knuckles have started going white from the pressure.

But despite the consistent and blatant disrespect, I marched the fuck on. I listened to all the negativity and all the insults being directed at me. Whether it was to my face or behind my back, I fucking heard it all. And just like the unstoppable force that I am, I moved forward. I carried on like the wayward fuckin’ son of a bitch I am. I have never stopped pushing through, even with the weight of all that disrespect. Even after my loyalist ally turned out to be anything but that. Even after more titles and pay per view wins added up on my resume but somehow still so many were looking down their noses at me.

I persevered and did exactly what everyone thought I couldn’t. I went into yet another big time pay per view match with an opportunity at the Xtreme title. Unlike Bam Miller, Cage Coleman and Reggie Estrada though, I didn’t fuckin’ blink. I put every single one of those dickweeds directly onto their skulls and I won the Xtreme title. Let me repeat that, I won the motherfuckin’ Xtreme title. Not only did I beat the guy who was holding it, I kicked the asses of the past two champions along with him. I won this beautiful title…

Marf once again holds up the Xtreme title and gives it a quick look that almost resembled lovingly. Kinda weird.

…This Xtreme title tops the already long growing list of accomplishments here in my short time. This belt proves to everyone else what I already knew, you can slow me down but there isn’t a man or woman here that can stop me. This championship gives me the right to tell each and every single naysayer I’ve had from day one to now to go fuck themselves. You were all so, so wrong about me and what I can do. Now I dare you to come and try to pry this belt from grasp. I promise anyone who does will be short several pints of blood by the end.

Marf flashes us that delicious evil grin of his and somewhere out there several small children have pissed themselves. Marf slaps the Xtreme title across his shoulder and then stops and looks mockingly surprised.

Hark! What’s this? A new challenger has stepped forth!

Marf carefully reaches out and gives a golf clap.

Crawling out from all the blow hards and pukes we call a roster is the slippery lizard himself, The Chameleon! Now I admit, I don’t know a whole helluva lot about you so far. I mean even though I was busy winning my Xtreme title at Fire and Ice don’t think I didn’t catch you in the Supercontinental Scramble, bub. You’re no average brawler and it tickles my fancy we get to pound one another’s faces into bloodied meat next week. But there was just one minor problem with your match…ya didn’t win. A golden opportunity for a Supercontinental title shot and for the Chameleon it was a swing and a miss.

Marf takes a second to swing an invisible bat and then look disappointed.

But hey! No worries! You hopped right back into that saddle and beat the three dozen faces of Michael Graves. And with whatever momentum that’s given you, here you are facing off with me for the god damn Xtreme title. Maybe you didn’t quite earn it but that’s the joy of an open challenge now isn’t it? I was surprised you were the first to answer the call but also delighted. Someone that steals the entrance music, mannerisms and move sets of their opponents is not a person going by the book. Someone who pulls that shit doesn’t have time for rules.

And it just so happens there are no rules in an Xtreme title match. A perfect place for people like us, Chameleon. We get to go into that ring and tinker with as many levels of pain as we please. We will inflict the worst damage we can on each other and laugh our way through the entire process. Underneath the crimson masks of blood we will be wearing will be great big smiles on both of our faces. Simply because that’s the kind of people we are. Or at least I know I am. I’m hoping you are too, Chameleon.

Marf nods solemnly while leaning in a bit.

Because if I’m wrong about you, Chameleon. If that isn’t who you are under all the disguises and bravado. If you aren’t actually willing to reach down into that dark void inside yourself to do what it takes to put your opponent down…well I don’t really know how else to put it other than, you’re fucked. You wanna come play your copycat games with me? That’s fine, just make sure you can handle the charred, demented world of mine you’re about to step into. I sure hope you know what you’re getting into.

You can experiment with how to do my mannerisms all you want. I will experiment with your threshold for pain, Chameleon. With or without your consent. I will laugh with you and if you’re not having a good time I’ll laugh at you instead. And I’ll do what the ring crew always hates me for, I’ll paint that canvas red with your blood from corner to fuckin’ corner. Whether you take me serious or not, I am going to severely hurt you, Chameleon. And with no rules, that means nobody will be able to pull me off of you. This isn’t a Scramble, this isn’t savage. This is me defending my fucking title, just try and stop me.

And after roaring through that last bit, it seems we are done. Will Marf’s jawline survive the next promo he grits his teeth through? Will the Chameleon rise to this violent challenge? Will someone get offended by Marf referencing his past? Find out all this and more, same Marf time, same Marf channel…Annnnnd we’re out!