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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » Relentless Day 3 RP Boards 2022
Soft Deadline ...Wait! I'm still stuck like this?!?!
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
09-17-2022, 10:05 PM

“-etter HOPE Flynn stays unconscious, Kaye. If he wakes, he’ll break your wrists to punish your girlish, thieving hands…”

“Ha! Russian DOLT! Flynn’s no match for my SUPERIOR mind. Stealing his invention was like stealing fire from cavemen using the flames to light their own flatulence. Now, it rests in TRUE SCIENTIFIC HANDS.”

“Well, mister science. If you are cleverer than Flynn, why did you not design Flynn’s tech first?”

“...A genius’ retort: Why didn’t Edison invent the battery first?”

“...Because Edison was thief? Who stole from superior inventor, Tesla?”

“Because it was more cost-effective to snatch credit after INFERIOR FOOLS crafted a barely-functional prototype. Flynn… unwrapped the puzzle box, but I assembled the pieces. Flynn’s implementation? FLAWED. Only taking in PAST data. With the… borrowed... future-prediction algorithm from Waters’ drones…”

“Stolen.”

“BORROWED. We may now upload wrestling performances from the past, present AND FUT-.”

“SILENCE. BOTH OF YOU.”



“...How long… have our dreamer’s eyes been open?”

The sound of distant wheels… Nearing.

A big blurry face zips above… Glossy. Like you’re on a glass slide being looked at through a microscope.

“Simply a spasm. He’s out.”

“Is he… any closer to realizing his… entrapment?”

“HARDLY. Flynn’s completely bought into his new reality. He’s completely under our power of persuasion.”

“...How… riveting.”



“Initialize external profiles one and two.”

“Let us… test this… simulation...”

***

A quiet, muted step along the floor.

Flynn tries to snap alert… But, Goddamn, he’s so tired…

His eyes... Immensely heavy... he battles to open them… A blurry figure stands above…

“...NK? ‘Zat you?”

“There now… Just relax.”

A hand rubs Flynn’s shoulder. A coooooool cloth drips across his forehead…

Flynn’s muscles de-tense. He lies back, accepting this care.

Cool liquid runs down his forehead… His chin…

It smells saccharine sweet… Like a mountain breeze…

“You’ve been asleep for almost fifteen hours now...”

Flynn presses his wrists to his face, his hands still trembling.

“I had a HORRIBLE nightmare…”

Flynn shakes his head once, trying to dismiss the scenes he saw.

“I was in the FUTURE… About three months. I’d won a wrestling tournament and earned millions… BUT! I wasn’t myself. I was stuck in some DOGSHIT roadhack’s body… My God, his hands were unusable...”

Flynn shudders, overflowing with revulsion. “I couldn’t TIE MY SHOES, let alone collar-and-elbow tie-up…”

“Well… You’re safe and sound now.”

…Flynn breathes a sigh of relief, cradling his pillow…

“Back in good ol’ Hobotown.”

Flynn’s eyes open.

“With your financial advisor, Barney Green.”



Flynn squeezes the ‘pillow’.

Aluminum rustling.

It’s a trash bag.



Flynn peels the cool ‘cloth’ from his forehead.

…It’s a Taco Bell receipt…

Drenched in Mountain Dew Code Red.



“FfffffffffffffffffuUUUUUUUUUUUU-.”

***
OH GOD IS THIS FOREVER?!?!

[Image: Hobotown-USA.jpg]

Flynn-Gravy furiously crawls out of the tent…

“GoddammitGoddammitGodDamnITGODDAMMITGODDDDDDDAAAAAAAMMMIITT!” Flynn stomps on the uneven, cracked sidewalk of HoboTown.

“STUCK in this SHIT body-PRISON.”

Barney forward-somersaults out the tent flap. He’s surprisingly nimble despite being a fucking meatglobe.

“What’s wrong, Micheal? You seem upset. Perhaps another investment in the hottest new decentralized finance would raise your spirits…?”

…Flynn-Gravy inhales. He squeezes his fists and closes his eyes…

“...One step at a time. One. Step. At a time.”

…Hmmm. Closing his eyes enhances his sense-of-smell.

…Now he knows his body smells like spoiled milk and concentrated self-hatred.

“...If I’ma get my body back, I’m gonna need support.”

Flynn snaps his fingers at Barney.

“Phone. NOW.”

“Why? You lose yours, Micheal?”

…Flynn grimaces, slipping his hand into his Graves’ pocket.

“...Uggggggggh, Why are his pockets WET?”

Eventually, he fishes out Graves’ cracked-screen phone.

“...I don’t know my combination. I’m locked out.”

Green swipes his finger across the screen making a bent left-leaning L.

Chirp! Phone’s unlocked.

Flynn is astonished! “BarnDog! How’d you know?”

Green smiles. “Well, you’ve ALWAYS used the same passlock.”

Flynn’s brow contorts confused, squinting at the squiggle. “Why that one?”

“You made it look like your penis! So you’d never forget it.”



Flynn-Gravy tugs his waistband from his stomach, looking straight down.



…He cranes his neck sideways.



…Then, he begrudgingly nods.

“Yeah, fine. Checks out.”

Flynn-Gravy presses the shattered glass of the barely-functional phone to his face.

“Finally, NK’ll show up.” Flynn seethes furiously, as he jams the phone into his face. “I bet he’ll have a fuckin’ manifesto worth of jokes after seeing me like this…”



…No ring?

“*BEEEEEEEEP* The number you’ve dialed is no longer in service.”


…Flynn-Gravy’s brow contorts in puzzlement.

“...The fuck? NK’s Razr is his prized possession. It’s his channel to Central Command… He’d NEVER let his line get disconnected…”

Green peeks over Flynn-Gravy’s shoulder.

“Ah! Mister War Criminal, huh? Sadly, you can’t use him as a BarnCoin referral. He was a valued BarnCoin customer before the… incident.” Green’s hand squeezes Flynn-Gravy’s shoulder.

Flynn’s nostrils flare. He jams his index finger in Green’s face. “Barn, you were useful to me ONCE. Do NOT press your luck.” Flynn turns away huffily.



…Flynn slowly spins back around.

“What ‘incident’?”

“Sad. Comrade got tossed THROUGH an electrical box. Had about 1.21 jiggawatts of power course through his veins!”



“Great Scott!” Flynn clutches the sides of his head, shocked (though not as shocked as NK…)! “...Well, who did it?!? Bourbon? Chuck!?!...” Flynn gasps. “Cent! That dude DESPISES Korea!”

Barney grimly denies Flynn’s theories.

“Second-worst part: His COMRADE did the deed.”

Flynn gasps

“...Kato?!?”

“Flynn.”



“MARK Flynn?”

“Yep.”

“...Why would I… Er, why would FLYNN do that? They were on the hottest tag-team in… History! …Why would ‘Flynn’ fuck that up?”

“Because NK was about to become #1 Uni contender.” Replies Barney, matter-of-factly.



Flynn inhales deep…

And exhales.

“Yeah. Fuck, that checks out.”



“Wait, if that was the 2nd worst part, what’s the WORST part?”

“NK’ll never see the BarnCoin revolution truly take flight…” Barney shakes his head dejectedly.

Flynn hopelessly crashes against the wall.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck… There goes my back-up…”



Suddenly, Flynn side-eyes Green.

Hmmm… BarnDog has more surface area than NK… Objectively, a better meatshield.

…Flynn snaps his fingers.

“BarnDog. Great news. You’re going to help me pull off a… job.”

Barney checks his wrist, which has four watches on it.

“I dunno, Micheal. I’m already way behind on passing out free BarnCoin QR Codes. I try to do it 22 hours a day…”

Flynn turns his back on BG, grinning a twisted grin.

“If we pull off this job, Barn? And I get back what’s mine? I will PERSONALLY buy TWO-POINT-FIVE MILLION DOLLARS of your shitty mono-.”

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK

…Flynn spins, seeing who-or-what’s honking…

A lime-green car with the letters B-G made out of dollar signs pulls up to the curb.

Green lays on the horn, his round head poking out the window.

“GET IN THE CAR. DIGITAL TIME IS DIGITAL MONEY.”

Flynn spins ‘round to see where Green was…

Vacant…



“Quick, too… Great meatshield potential!”

***

A security booth, leading into a nondescript office.

The Bureau of Interdimensional Affairs…

Flynn’s workplace.

…Maybe. If they aren’t still mad about him stealing his co-worker’s car and freeing an interdimensional terrorist…

The BarnCoinMobile’s window slowly creeps down…

Flynn-Gravy peeks his head above the door’s edge…

“Okay Barn. I need in there. You’ve gotta figure out some way to distract those guards. Whatcha got?”



“Barn?”

Flynn twists his neck back to the driver’s seat…

…Empty.

Flynn looks around… And in front of the car, a rotund salesman gallops.

“Hello!” Barney waves at two security guards, who point pistols at BG.

“Sir! No Civilians allowed! This area must remain SECURE.”

“Secure, huh? Betcha it’s not as secure as BarnCoin! Have you thought about all the ways physical money can be tracked directly via your DNA? I have!”

…Shit. If Barney isn’t tased-and-pepper-sprayed to death, BarnCoin just might have a chance.

Flynn-Gravy slips the cardoor open, juuuuuuust a crack…

The guards cower backward, screaming at Barney to drop his QR code…

Flynn-Gravy carefully side-steps the security booth… Creeping inside the building.

***

The Bureau’s inner sanctum.

Grandiose stairs, chockful of agents passing folders, briefing, securing the world… Nay, the fabric of the universe itself.

“...Fuckin’ nerds.” Flynn scoffs.

Flynn-Gravy inhales… Stuffing his hands in his pockets… Walking quickly to blend into the hustle-and-bustle of office culture.

Trying not to stick out like a scurvy-ridden thumb.

Most of these suits are from Armani. Flynn-Gravy’s coat is from… Whatever-Dead-Guy-Graves-Got-It-From.

Flynn-Gravy slinks to the bottom stair…

Suddenly, he sees…

Walking across the second floor.

…Flynn.

Er… Flynn’s body.

Flynn-Gravy bares his teeth, furious.

Based on Freaky Friday, this body's controlled by…

“Graaaaaaaves…” Flynn snarls.

Flynn-Body disinterestedly flips through pages in a folder…

Flynn-Gravy furiously sprints up the stairs! Two-at-a-time.

Flynn-Body yawns…



Wait. Flynn-Gravy squints. Something’s off.

Mid-jog, he focuses, measuring Flynn-Body’s line-of-sight…



…Above the page in his hand.

He’s not reading the files?



…It’s a trap!

As Flynn-Gravy’s toes touch the top stair…

He’s suddenly. And effortlessly.

Plucked off the ground.

A MANBEAST heaves him up by his collar.

Agent Redd Spahtz.

Flynn’s work-nemesis.

Flynn-Gravy’s feet dangle, kicking desperately mid-air.

“...Dammit, Spahtz, not now…”

Flynn-Body… emotionlessly snaps the folder shut. And drifts away.

Like a fly on a frog's tongue, Flynn-Gravy wriggles helplessly to slip free.

“Spahtz! You idiot! I’M FLYNN. A CIVILIAN snuck in here, Piloting MY BODY!”

In a split-second, Spahtz HEAVES HIM DOWNWARD! WHAM! With a sickening thud, Flynn-Gravy’s embedded a half-foot into now-crushed tile floor.

“...Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwie.”

…Reflexively, Flynn-Gravy latches onto Spahtz’s arm, deadweighting himself… If Spahtz can’t yank him up, he can’t re-slam him…

Spahtz crawls onto Flynn-Gravy, working for torque, to peel this flea-bitten urchin off the ground…

Flynn-Gravy desperately shifts grip up Spahtz’s arm, grasping onto Redd’s shoulder. As he does, Flynn-Gravy extends his heel to catch Spahtz’s ankle…

A trip! Spahtz tumbles to the floor.

As Spahtz falls, he gracefully somersaults onto his back, slipping out of Flynn-Gravy’s sweaty grip.

“...Stupid FUCKING hands…”

Avoiding a choke? Spahtz usually fights like a ten-year old girl. When did he learn grappling?

Before Spahtz can create distance, Flynn-Gravy mounts his hostile coworker.

“Gravy’s fists can’t grapple shit, but they’ll punch THE FUCK OUTTA YOU!”

Flynn-Gravy reels back…

His foe. Grizzled. Fearless. Baring his chin outwards.

Steely eyes.

Steely… purple? Eyes.

“What the fuck?”

Spahtz stares daggers back, eager for more.

“What are YOU to be looking at, butthead?”

Flynn’s eyes widen, shocked at Spahtz’s… thick Russian accent?!?

“POPINSKI?!?”



“YOU GOT FREAKY-FRIDAYED TOO?!?”

In a flash, Spahtz-Popinski tangles his arms around the back of Flynn-Gravy’s neck… And backward-somersaults.

Flynn-Gravy is propelled over the second-floor railing…



Headed straight for the first floor.

Going dooooooooooown.

***

Thump.

Thump.

The camera pans over to show Flynn is repeatedly punting a boot-shaped, six-inch dent into the plaster of the wall.

Thump.

Thump.



……

Flynn spins around toward the camera.

“Y’know what’s funny? Just… fucking hilarious to me?”



“Theo Pryce. THEO PRYCE… wants to pretend that I’m crazy. My SO-CALLED FRIEND, Theo finally met me in the ring… AFTER A YEAR OF ME CALLING HIM OUT.”

“To tell me to my face. That I’m wrong. That he’d neeeeeeeeeeeever work against his ol’ pal, Mark. How could I possibly think that he’d have aaaaaaaaanything but my best interest at heart?”


Flynn flutters his eyelashes twice, miming Theo’s alleged innocence.

“...Isn’t it funny? When I tried to make my case for Theo’s exertion of control? His malfeasance. His FUCKING BAD-FAITH ACTIONS…”

“...The XWF camera operator… missed his cue.”


[Image: Screen-Shot-2022-09-16-at-5-09-16-PM.png]

“...I referenced some of Theo’s tweets on the X-Tron… And the viewer saw… NOTHING.”

“Almost as if Theo Pryce doesn’t WANT you to see hypocrisy spewed straight from his FUCKING FINGERTIPS.”


[Image: Screen-Shot-2022-09-18-at-12-59-44-AM.png]

[Image: Screen-Shot-2022-09-18-at-12-57-53-AM.png]

“...But, even worse, kids? What twists Pryce’s knife of betrayal so deep into my back that I feel the knife wrenching through my bleeding heart?”



“Theo WANTS  you… to believe that our Trios match? The one we lost together?”

Flynn shrugs, like whatEVER.

“Water under the bridge. Ancient history. Why would Theo possibly resent me for not winning a match where HE SHAT THE BED? What LUNATIC would believe that Theo Pryce would CLING onto an eight-year old grudge?!?”



“AND YET.”

“Two weeks before I MAIN EVENT Relentless.”

“My FIRST-AND-ONLY Universal Title match since I arrived TEN LONG YEARS AGO.”

“…What match does Theo book me in?”




“A Trios match.”

“AND NOT JUST ANY TRIOS MATCH. A Trios match against three celebrated champions.”

“Against a gibbering mental patient, a struggling addict… and Mark Flynn.”

“Desperately clinging to his sobriety.”




“Wanna pretend you don’t remember what happened AFTER that fateful 2014 match, Theo, ol’ pal?”

“I’ll remind ya.”

“I relapsed.”

“I spent years… YEARS of my prime fighting morphine withdrawal. My muscles shut DOWN because I couldn’t surrender to what I DESPERATELY CRAVED.”

“I drove a fucking car 95 miles-an-hour across three states when I couldn’t MOVE MY FUCKING ARMS… For you, Theo.”




“And this is how you repay me.”

“THAT’S THE FRIEND YOU ARE.”

“To keep the belt on your fucking Golden child money-factory? You’d send someone that bailed you out of a Colorado jail cell… Back into the HELL… OF ADDICTION.”




“Which brings us to… Raion Kido.”

Flynn beckons the camera closer.

“The chosen one.”

“Theo’s lapdog.”

“The CHOOOOOOOOOOOKE.”

“ARTIST.”


Flynn grins wide, leaning in.

“With his nifty little cape and his sharp little boots. His underwear outside his pants. Dressed up in fucking cosplay from a TV show he likes. Calling himself a hero.”

“NK hit the nail on the head. Your recent triumphs? You finally winning gold?”

“You couldn’t do it on your own.”

“You tried. And you failed. You lost against Bourbon for King of the XWF. You lost against Nickles for the TV Title.”

“Your biggest singles accomplishment, Kido? Beating Thad. An over-the-hill child that NK pinned in 90 seconds.”

“Big. FUCKING. Whoop.”

“Kido, you’re THE most mediocre singles wrestler to ever DIMINISH the Universal championship.”

“Your only strength?”

“Opportunism.”

“You’re a sneaky, DEVIOUS RAT.”

“Did you BEAT Bourbon and I to win your 24/7 briefcase?”

“No. You laid in wait until I tossed a GODDAMN CINDERBLOCK THROUGH A HELICOPTER, stealing my assured victory.”

“Did you PREVAIL over ALIAS?”

“No. You circled like a VULTURE, STEALING your ILL-GOTTEN GOODS from a rotten corpse.”

“When Kido can steal a victory? He will.”

“When he can’t? He fucking fails.”

“Every.”

“SINGLE.”

“Time.”

“WarGames? Should have been yours, Kido.”

“It was down to the Uni champ… And a green-as-goose-shit geek. With one year of training.”

“NK never held a REAL singles belt. He’d just lost to Charlie Fucking Nickles.”

“...But, like every other big Kido match? Where Raion has to win on his own merits?”

“You.”

“FUCKING.”

“CHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOKED.”

“And what beat you? Two weeks of training on how to shut down your flashy, low-impact offense… And dismantle your feeble defenses.”

“From Coach of the Year, Mark Fucking Flynn.”

“How’d I teach a talentless nerd to beat you?”

“Because deep down? I know you, Kido. I sized you up after our first meeting backstage at Fire & Ice. I know exactly who you are.”

“You wear spandex and tell kids about believing in yourself and the warrior’s spirit.”

“Makes sense. Get ‘em young, snag a customer for life, suckling at the teat of false hope. Screaming at their parents to throw their EARNED money to buy your shitty, faux-gold Halloween costume from the XWF SHOPZONE for $59.95 plus shipping-and-handling, service fee, convenience fee, autographed for $20 extra.”

“What a people’s champion you pretend to be.”




“But. I’ve seen you in action, Kido.”

“I’ve seen you kidney-punch a man. Over-and-over. ‘Til his body shut down.”

“…Somehow I missed that Saint Seiya issue… Where he KIDNEY-PUNCHES a villain.”

“Not a move in any hero’s repertoire.”

“You’re no fucking dispenser of justice. You’re no fucking embodiment of good.”

“You’re.”

“No.”

“Fucking.”

“Hero.”




“What are you, really?”

Flynn reaches behind his back… Revealing…

[Image: 839a0810-d388-498f-a60a-0277f843cd76.jpg]

A RAION KIDO ACTION FIGURE!

…Flynn slips a finger behind the toy…

Yanking a pullstring hanging off the toy’s back.

A third-rate speaker-embedded into the plastic Kido’s chest wheezes to life.

“*KRRRRRRSH*Burn Cosmos!*KRRRRRRSH*”

…Flynn shakes the toy gently up-and-down. You can hear the cheap plastic bits rustle in the toy’s interior.

“A product.”

“A sales pitch.”

“A BUSINESS DECISION.”

“That’s why Theo hitched his wagon to you. You’re MARKETABLE. And once Theo branded your ass? You became the face of the XWF.”

“What a FUCKIN’ coincidence.”




“Only… ONE small problem.”

“One obstacle in your path to an eternity of monetizable glory.”

“The man who bought free real estate in your head since we met.”

“The night of your debut.”


“Mark.”

[Image: Screen-Shot-2022-09-18-at-12-44-54-AM.png]

“FUCKING.”

[Image: Screen-Shot-2022-09-18-at-12-45-45-AM.png]

“FLYNN.”

“BEST.”

“WRESTLER.”

“WHO.”

“EVER.”

“LIVED.”

“Since Day One.”




“So, Theo.”

“Setup your merch table. Sell your t-shirts. Hawk your combo meals. Each one comes with an exclusive Kido toy! Collect all six! Combine them into a giant GOLDEN IDOL TO CONSUMERISM!”

“Hoard all the fucking wealth you can.”

“WHILE you can.”

“Because on Sunday.”

“The money pit drains…”

“I’m going to snap the limbs off your boytoy.”

“Like twisting the legs off an ant. One-by-one. Grinding them into filament and CHITIN. ”


…Flynn dips his fingers into his pocket…

“And as your precious toy oozes bile from every festering joint… As he howls agonizingly until his lungs collapse, too ENRAPT in the purest pain to notice the blood filling up his throat…”

Fishing out a match…

“I’ll lift his wriggling, mutilated torso.”

He strikes it against the wall…

“And cast it in the flames of the train’s engine. His body serving as fuel… As I reach the end…”

“Of the Optimal Path.”


Flynn gently rests the flame against the toy.

“And I’ll watch your toy buuuuuurn, Theo…”

The cheap paint immediately catches fire…

“Until the gold draped around your boy’s shoulders… Is smelted into a trophy worthy of my destiny.”

The toy’s face sinks inwards Its limbs dangle like putty…

The speaker fizzes… It cries with the last of its life...

“Buuuuuuuuuuurn Coooooooooosmoooooooooooo…”

OOC:wordcounter.com_word_count:3000
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(Gravy_Xtreme_5000) (09-18-2022), Atara Raven (09-18-2022), Dolly Waters (09-18-2022), Finn Kühn (09-17-2022), Raion Kido (09-18-2022), Theo Pryce (09-25-2022), Thunder Knuckles™ (09-18-2022), Unknown Soldier (09-19-2022)




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