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Stevie Tyler · (07-07-2013)

STILL 600 OR SO YEARS IN THE FUTURE

Stevie awoke on a dingy bed in a dark, brown room. The first thing he saw was Gary, still in his human-like form, standing in the corner. He slowly scanned the room and was startled to find the man called Sting-2 sitting in a brown, folding chair at the head of his bed.

"Oh, cool. He's awake," Sting-2 said. Stevie wondered if the only reason he was hearing him in english was due to the babel stone Gary had activated upon entering this underground area.

"It's a good thing your friend here has the babel stone. This whole ordeal could've been very ugly." Stevie should stop thinking so much and just listen.

"Since you didn't seem to take to my first introduction very well, allow me to reintroduce myself. I'm Sting-2. You guys made it to my secret, underground compound. Gary's done a lot for us here in the past and he tells me that you're the key to making sure the world never gets to the state it's in. Now, I understand that, if history does move differently that we may never even exist, but that's a risk we here at the Power Plant are willing to take." Stevie sat up and a spiderweb hit him right in the face. He struggled to wipe it off.

"The Power Plant? Sting-2? The guy at the door was wearing a WCW shirt. What is this all about?" Stevie asked, starting to get a bit weirded out by all of the WCW references in the supposed future.

"Oh, yeah. Well, the thing is that after Robo-Russo took over the world, his first act was to wipe out all of human history. Written records, the moving pictures, audio recordings, paintings...everything...was destroyed. He believed that if he could destroy our history, that we'd never be able to rebuild," Sting-2 explained.

"So, how are you even aware of WCW? Are you Sting's great, great, great, great...I don't know how many...Are you his relative? Is Sting your ancestor?" Stevie was having trouble understanding the whole situation, but it's gotten easier to understand the ununderstandable after some of the stuff he's experienced recently.

"No. At least, I don't think so. No one left really knows anything about their ancestry. We know of WCW because when Robo-Russo attempted to destroy human history, he missed a few things. We found one of those things. This." Sting-2 lifts a box into his lap and opens it. He pulls out a magazine wrapped in plastic.
[Image: Pro_Wrestling_Illustrated_-_December_1993.gif]

[Image: Pro_Wrestling_Illustrated_-_December_1993.gif]

Stevie was stunned. Out of all the things in human history to have been saved, this was it. A copy of PWI magazine all the way from 1993. This was a relic to these people. It all started to make an odd bit of sense now.

"This is from the year, 1993. Sting was listed as the number 4 wrestler of that year, but to us, he seemed to be the hero we needed. The image he had, the character he seemed to possess...That's what we needed to get us through. That's what we needed to fight Robo-Russo and the NnWo and start to rebuild. We voted, and the people thought that I was the most experienced warrior. More importantly, they felt that I had the purest moral character. We all voted and decided that I would rule the Power Plant as Sting-2. Sting's successor in spirit." Sting-2 looks up and at nothing. Beaming with pride.

"That's all cool and all, and I'm sorry you guys have it so rough, but...," Stevie looks at Gary, "What does this have to do with me?"

Gary strokes the fake beard dangling from his mask. "What this has to do with you is that this future happens with a Stevie that keeps on being a loser. This is the future with a Stevie Tyler who ends up as middle management at a retail store. The way this could have all been stopped is if you had just gotten off your butt, bro, and been a wrestler," Gary explains without actually explaining anything.

Stevie had gotten up by this point and was pacing back and forth across the room. "None of that makes any sense. Not one word you said makes sense. How does me being a wrestler stop the end of the world? And Robo-Russo? REALLY!?" Stevie wasn't buying it.

"Because, bro. If a nerd like you can rise up and fight for something good, and show some heart, people would get inspired and not let someone like Robo-Russo take control of the world! Stop being so lame and just accept that WE NEED TO DO THIS!" Gary said, stopping Stevie in his tracks and taking him by the shoulders.

Suddenly, Stevie noticed Sting-2 seem to fade out of the corner of his eye. For just a moment he knew saw Nib, Gary's roommate. Still short and squat. Still in his dirty diaper, and giggling. It only happened for a moment, but Stevie knew what he saw and he was pissed.

"Dude, really? Really?" 'Really?' Stevie wondered in his head and out loud.

The facade disappeared, and all 3 were now in Gary's living room. "AHHH!!! You got us, bro! You got us! It almost worked too!" Gary transformed back into his normal demonic self and laughed heavily with Nib.

"What!? You made all of this to try to trick me into believing...It was all dumb to begin with! You took up my whole day for this!" Stevie said, collapsing on Gary's couch next to Nib. It was a small living room, still just as dingy as before but with a dirty, blue carpet and white walls.

"Hey, bro, it doesn't make anything I said any less true. This is your key to not being such a loser. You've got nothing else going on except for Friday Night Magic. Plus, you have no choice anyway." Gary was right. There's not much you can do to stop a possession.

"This is dumb, dude. If there's no choice, why do you keep trying to convince me?" Stevie said. He sort of wanted an answer, but he really just wanted to go home.

"It's because...well...we like you. And we want you to be on board and having as much with this as we are," Gary said in a surprising moment of sentimentality. "But, whatever. If you wanna' be a douche and mope and not hang with us, then whatever. Just go home. Be that way, bro. Be that way."

Stevie honestly felt bad. Then he felt weird that he felt bad about hurting a demon's feelings. It really did seem like Gary just wanted what was best for him and to be his friend. Before he could apologize, he found himself in his bedroom, on the floor, with the PWI magazine lying next to his head. It smelled like sulphur. And Doritos.

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