Please Login or Register to get full access to the forums.

Lost Password?
Current time: 03-28-2024, 01:37 AM (time should display as Pacific time zone; please contact Admin if it appears to be wrong)                                                                


X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » "Savage Saturday Night" RP Board
SIMULATION: WORLD-EATER
Author Message
Mark Flynn Offline
24/7 Briefcase Holders get their name in GOLD
The 24/7 Shot!



XWF FanBase:
The IWC

(gets varying reactions in the arenas, but will be worshiped like a god and defended until the end by internet fans; literally has thousands of online dorks logging on to complain anytime they lose a match or don't get pushed right)


#1
03-09-2022, 04:02 PM


February 28th, 2022
Offices of Interplanetary Security and Defense (US IPSD)


Agent Davenport walked through the double-doors at the same time she always did.

7:45 AM.

It takes 14 seconds to step through security, 35 seconds to walk through the main building, 37 seconds to pace up the steps to the third floor and 12 seconds to enter her office.

She’s arrived at her desk 22 seconds before 7:47 AM. Every single morning.

Every day’s the same: After arriving at her desk, she checks a manilla folder with the agenda items for the day. She processes through mechanically and all-encompassingly. One task at a time, until she’s resolved the task completely and with no outstanding business.

She is a woman of rigid and uncompromising precision.

Just the same today, she takes a seat behind her desk and goes to grab the manilla folder…

Just as Agent Redd Spahtz walks in. A pink-faced buffoon, angling-for-power at all times across every department. In Davenport’s estimation, Redd’s a worm that would sell his grandmother for a desk slightly closer to the main office, just so he could get more schmoozing time with the boss.

Least forgivable of all to Davenport, Redd was communicatively inefficient. He liked to soften his words when speaking to her. Terrified of the messenger being shot.

Spahtz hovers in the doorway, silently, holding a sheet of looseleaf in his hands.

"What?"

Spahtz swallows.

"Agent Davenport… There’s… um… A last second addition to your… agenda…"

Davenport stands up and snatches the paper out of his hands. "Just give it to me."

Spahtz releases it quickly… As if pleased to have out of his possession.

"It’s… uh… It’s your… It’s Flynn."

Davenport stares daggers at Spahtz. "The affairs of this department are outside of your purview, Spahtz. Whatever Flynn is doing, it’s under my orders."

Spahtz bites his lip. "Well, then, if you ordered… that." Redd nods at the page in Davenport’s hand, "Your judgment is above reproach."

Davenport eyes Spahtz, until he finally gathers himself enough to clear his throat, mutter an apology and leave the room.

Once Spahtz has left, Davenport eyes the page.

It’s an XWF Press Release.

…An upcoming match.

Davenport grits her teeth.

If there’s one thing she can’t abide.

It’s the unexpected.

***
58 seconds from the third floor to the basement.

Down where Davenport hid Flynn and his totalitarian partner.

She’d outfitted his space with a state-of-the-art gym. She sped past the treadmills, the weights, across the running track…

To the computer. What Flynn called the Kenta Kobayashi Maru.

She pushed through the door.

Just as Flynn lifts the visor off his head.

"Time."

The War Criminal, dressed in military fatigues as always, punches his thumb down on the top of a stopwatch.

"8 minutes, 27 seconds! Most impressive, Mark Flynn!"

Flynn’s face is expressionless. Joyless.

"Increase constant MOUTH_DIAMETER by 5 feet. Run it again."

NK hesitates.

"Mark Flynn, this Maru of yours is quite powerful… But, as we increase the model’s sizes, it takes exponentially more power to run the program…"

"Uninstall everything non-essential. Then, Run. It. Again."

"Flynn."

Flynn and NK look up at Davenport.

"Ah! Agent Marie Davenport!" NK stands up and salutes from his desk, before the computer. "To what do we owe th-"

Davenport holds up the page. NK bares his teeth defensively. "Ah. I see."

"You requested a fight with Alias."

Flynn is unmoved.

"Yep. As you requested, right?"

Davenport’s eyebrows twitch.

"Don’t play that game with me, Flynn. Don’t act like this is my idea. Your mission is, and always has been, to find the Beacon."

"YOU want ME to find out what draws metahumans to the XWF. You want info? I’m going straight to the top."

"You couldn’t schedule an INTERVIEW with this guy? NK seems close-ish! They went on a goddamn adventure, smuggling a baby!"

"NK’s embarrassed that he didn’t reach out after Alias got cashed-in on."

NK blushes. "I-I-I MERELY HAD… APPOINTMENTS! WASHING MY HAIR!"

"Uh-huh."

"If I asked you to investigate, say, Somalia’s political landscape. I don’t expect you to CALL SOMALIA AND CHALLENGE THE COUNTRY TO A FIST FIGHT."

"Of course not." Flynn acknowledges. "You’d expect me to approach the problem respecting local customs."

"..."

"You wanted me on this project because I know how to navigate XWF culture."

"Better. Than. Anyone."


"..."

"You want information on Alias? The biggest mystery? The man who bends reality to his every whim?" Flynn claps his hands once, rubbing them together, ready to get to work.

"Then, I gotta fight him."

"Do you? Or is this a ploy to use federal resources for your bullshit journey back to the top… of a wrestling company?"

Flynn hesitates. "...I’d argue this is mutually beneficial…"

"It’s not. You’re a parasite."

Flynn chuckles. Maria is unamused.

"Even worse," Davenport continues, "You’re a parasite we draped in red, white and blue. You represent the United States. We CAN’T lose."

NK scoffs, but then tries to spin it into a nonchalant coughing fit. Davenport points at the totalitarian.

"You see? Our adversaries are amused. Our enemies are invading their neighbors, posturing mock-strength. The economy is plummeting. People are abandoning their jobs and spending their life savings on BarnDollars."

"...It’s called BarnCoin."

"The last thing America needs right now is another reminder that we don’t have shit under control. If you, a government agent…"

"Unwilling government age-"

"IF YOU, Mark Flynn, LOSE… Even to the most powerful, reality-warping creature on the planet… It’s not just egg on your face. It’s egg on the goddamn country’s face."



"NK, grab Agent Davenport the spectator visor."

NK squints, then shrugs. He shifts his rolling chair across the room and hands off a wired set of glasses. Davenport eyes them, dispassionately.

"Let’s show her our…"

"Training Regimen."


***
BEGIN TRAINING SIMULATION


CODENAME: WORLD-EATER


[Image: XjCkWBv.png]

Click the image above or this link to begin
***

"Time."

Click.

"7 minutes, 58 seconds! You improve each iteration, Mark Flynn!"

Maria removes the visor. She squeezes the ends of the virtual-glasses.

Her nose wrinkles.



She frisbees the visor to the War Criminal, who catches it into his chest. She heads for the exit.

"I want a full status report post-event on the… engagement."

"You got it, Boss."

Davenport looks over her shoulder at Flynn.

"Don’t fuck this up."

And with that, Davenport disappears out the door.

NK coughs. "Mark Flynn, do you… truly believe this is the optimal moment to strike at Comrade Alias?"

"Increase constant STOMACH_LINING_HARDNESS by a factor of 5."

NK sighs and turns back to the Maru.

"We’re gonna map out every possible route."

"To destroy the World-Eater."


[i]Wordcounter.com_count(1109)+In-game_Dialogue(1830)=2939
Edit Hate Post Like Post
[-] The following 7 users Like Mark Flynn's post:
ALIAS (03-12-2022), Jay Omega (03-10-2022), Marf (03-09-2022), Prof. Bobby Bourbon (03-11-2022), Raion Kido (03-09-2022), Unknown Soldier (03-09-2022), Vita Frickin Valenteen (03-10-2022)




Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)