TARA FENIX CHARITY EVENT
OCTOBER 2022

OOONE!

TWOOO!

THR…

NOOO! Buster Gloves gets the shoulder up in time as he kicks out of the victory roll pin attempt by Finn Kuhn! Instead of holding onto the leg, Finn grabs the raised arm…

Savagery of Angels! Finn’s using his full force to end this match on the spot and make Buster tap out to the flying armbar attempt. Can Buster keep holding onto his wrist to block it?!

Finn WREEENCHES back on the hold! He might get his second submission win over Buster here. He grits his teeth, really sending it!

Buster’s in BIG trouble. His face is blood red, but he keeps hold of his own wrist, blocking the attack. Neither man appears willing to relent. Buster powers forward, stacking up Finn in a schoolboy attempt with his arm still trapped! Pin by Buster.

OOONE!

TWOOO!

SHOULDER UP!

Close one there. Finn avoids the pin AND STILL MAINTAINS THE HOLD!

Or does he?! Buster just yanked his arm out like he’s started a lawnmower. And now he’s got Finn in a real bad position. He scoops up the King in Rags and HOIIISTS him into the air! What strength! Finn realizes a little too late what’s about to happen, and he can’t get free…

BOOOM SHAKALAKA! ENORMOUS POWERBOMB BY BUSTER GLOVES! It looks like he dropped Finn right on his head!

The Kaiser’s eyes are completely glazed over, and Buster isn’t finished. He hoists up Finn’s body into a torture rack position…

THE OBLITERATOOOR! OH…MY… GAWD! Buster Gloves just stacked Finn up on his neck, again, with a devastating Burning Hammer!

Buster quickly goes for the cover as the fans count along with the ref!

OOONE!

TWOOO!

THREEE!

That’s it! It’s ALLL over! What a match! Buster gets his first win against an XWF wrestler with that well-fought victory. Finn gave a valiant effort here tonight, but it just wasn’t enough.

Buster Gloves checks Finn to see if he’s ok, then moves to the wrestling fans in Waikiki to share this special moment with THEM, and his chosen charity, The Disabled Veterans of America. An American flag finds its way into the ring and is draped over our winner’s shoulders. In a sign of gratitude, he beats his fist on his heart and points to all the fans before pressing his palms together and bowing in thanks. Does he love this crowd or what?

Kuhn is still in the ring, being checked out by medical staff. He doesn’t look good, but at least he’s sitting up and conscious, with an ice bag being pressed to the back of his neck. Buster gives a nod before exiting the ring and Finn calls out to him. The camera catches Kuhn’s lips mouthing a few words, but they can’t be picked up over the noise in the arena. Buster seems to understand exactly what he’s saying though as he squints at the King in Rags… returns a smile and then rolls out of the ring.

What did Finn just say there?

It looked like he said… “I’ll see you at Warfare.”




I CHOOSE YOU

With a modest roller bag being dragged behind him and a white earbud jammed in his right ear, Buster Gloves scrolls through his Twitter feed. It’s a lot of the usual. This guy attacking that guy over something that doesn’t amount to much of anything. Vapid butt selfies. Pictures of food. People proclaiming Elon Musk is either the second coming of Christ, OR… Robot Hitler. Buster’s been to this Airport just over a dozen times in the last year. The atmosphere barely affects him anymore. He should be flying private with Kayfabe Airlines, but he’s always found their service to be a bit too garish and weed-infested for his tastes. Besides, Buster still enjoys being around people. Occasionally someone will recognize him, ask for autographs, and he kind of likes it. Who wouldn’t?

A small group of people stand outside the arrival gate waiting for their loved ones to return. An anxious parent. A military wife. And a dozen ‘Bull of the North’ wrestling fans. This contingent is MUCH larger than what Buster expected, so he pauses for a moment before crossing the point of no return. He sends a quick text to Emily Simms (his girlfriend and fellow wrestler at the WGWF) to confirm she’s waiting for him. Once she does, he approaches his fans.

“Emily!” Buster shouts over a crowd of fans who aress huddled around him, begging him to sign overpriced action figures and embarrassing glossy photos.

A pretty blonde treat in cutoff shorts, a white ‘SIMMS’ hoodie, and a blue bucket hat, waves frantically to him from her elevated perch on top of a bench. It’s Emily. It takes a few seconds to locate her, but when he does, it warms him like an old shirt, right out of the dryer.

Buster takes the time to sign something for every single fan. Even the greedy bastard that brought a whole tote full of Buster Gloves Funko Pops just to put up on Ebay. After about a dozen signatures for the same guy, Buster politely tells him. “I gotta run. Thanks for being a fan!”

And Buster DOES run. Like in one of those sappy romantic comedies. Emily freezes, because why would a 125-lb California Girl run head-on at a 250-lb freight train barreling down the tracks? She leaps off the bench and wraps her appendages around him like an alien face hugger, planting a barrage of wet kisses on him and squeezing him tight as he twirls her small frame around in circles.

She sighs, “I'm so proud of you. You're finally going to fulfill your dream.” The dream she’s talking about is that of becoming an XWF champion. Technically, Buster isn’t in line for a championship match. He isn’t ranked very high in the company. And he’s not a household name, but he just beat one of the XWF mainstays on a major Pro Wrestling Super Show. “I missed you so much!”

“Me too.” He says with a genuine smile. “Let’s walk, before someone asks me to sign their baby.”

“You can sign MY baby, Big Daddy.”

Buster winces, no-sells the pick-up line, and gets to walking.

Somewhere in the other city that never sleeps, New York City, a coping and seething King in Rags must be unimpressed and dissatisfied. Two epic matches with a newcomer in the XWF and Finn Kuhn is surely reevaluating his next steps in the federation. Sure, Finn won the first match, and it was on a major pay-per-view, but the finish was shady. Both men performed well in that second match too, which was a major event on a cross-promotional platform, but Buster was better for the last 3 seconds. Buster got the W and Finn got concussion protocol.

It's nice to be back home in Las Vegas, and Buster’s fortunate to have someone there waiting for him to come home, but his mind is in San Antonio, Texas, where he has an XWF date with Ned Kaye and another confrontation with Finn Kuhn.

Emily holds Buster’s meaty hand in her much smaller, much colder one as they weave their way through the terminal. She can hardly contain her excitement. “I packed you some snacks for the car. Beef jerky, gummi bears, and I even have some hot chocolate in a thermos just in case you wanted something hot. I know you’re trying to eat clean, but you deserve a cheat day, and you can cheat with ME… TONIGHT, if you want to.”

The happy couple is still going through the discovery phase of their relationship. They’re past the first impressions and the sanitized Tinder versions of themselves. They’re at the phase where the makeup has come off. The flaws are exposed. The bathroom door is open. And the intimacy is at peak levels. The soul bonding is real, and they have been vibing hard AF.

The words keep flowing like a never-ending stream of nervous excitement. “I also went grocery shopping, and I cleaned your apartment, and I bought a Halloween costume that I want to try on for you.”

“Emmy, relax. This is cute and all, but let’s save it for later huh. I’m a little banged up right now.”

“Oh my gosh. Sorry about that. I just want to take care of you.”

They cross a busy road and enter the parking garage looking for Buster’s car, who he’s trusted Emily enough to drive here. She could have taken her own car, which she drove up from LA, but she says she likes his car better because ‘it smells nice and has extra room for her balls, lol.’ Buster should be thinking about the cheat meal that’s waiting for him. Or he should be thinking about folding his flexible and much younger girlfriend into every letter of the alphabet, BUT… his mind is somewhere else. He’s wondering what Finn Kuhn is up to at this very moment.

Finn Kuhn is a good man, Buster knows that. But recent developments have brought that into question. A video showing Finn paying off officials. It doesn’t make sense to him and it’s fucking with his head. Why would Finn cheat when he didn’t need to? After all the investigating they’ve done together, why continue to lie? Finn and Buster played Uno in the lockerroom. And when you play Uno with a man, your body makes a promise, that you will go wild and draw four whenever the other man calls on you.

Buster follows Emily, who continues with her anxious, but optimistic, small talk. Most of it is incoherent white noise that he’s learned how to ignore. Thoughts of betrayal and conspiracy occupy his mind. It’s not until they actually find the car that he’s at ease. He chucks his luggage in the trunk, opens the door for Emily, and hops in the driver’s seat of the SUV.

“So, Mr. Bull of the North, what do you want to do first?” Emily asks with a baited hook.

“I need to beat this dude, Ned Kaye, in San Antonio next week.”

Emily furrows her brow, finally realizing that Buster’s body is in Las Vegas, but his mind is in a completely different time zone. “Can we just forget about work for a minute?”

Buster just sits in his seat without starting the vehicle. He grabs Emily’s ringless left hand and gives it a squeeze. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I just need to clear my head and make sense of what’s going on. I thought Finn was on my side. I thought we’d be taking on the world together.”

“I thought that was MY job?”

“I know. I know. And I’m glad you’re here with me. But I’m gonna need some inside help if I’m gonna climb the ladder at XWF.”

“If you need to win matches and be a champion at XWF to feel like you’ve accomplished something, I’m sure you can get it done. I believe in you. And you DO need help getting there. That’s why I’M with you.”

“But you’re not coming to the XWF.”

“No. Hell no. I got my own thing going on. And it’s good that we spend some time apart so you can grow as an individual wrestler. But I’m still going to be here, supporting you. When you come home. When you feel alone. When you doubt yourself. I’m WITH you, William.”

Buster laughs under his breath. “Fine. Maybe I can have twice the company. You AND Finn. Or Vaughn. Or whoever.”

“Is Vaughn helping you out now too?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. We have history. We were partners in Level Up a couple times. That’s when he tried to get me into the CCPE stable, but I screwed it up somehow. Pissed off Chris Page. When have you ever heard of Chris Page saying no to a wrestler?”

“I saw the two of you beat up Finn together. You're friends already. You could do much worse than Peter Vaughn. Just do me a favor and be careful. These guys are all predators, and you’re fresh meat. I don’t want them to send you home hurt again and expect me to put you back together.”

“I’m cautiously optimistic about working with either one of these guys.”

“Great. Just make sure that you take care of yourself first. You don’t owe either of them anything. You kick some ass and then you come home to me. Got it?”

“Yeah. I got it.”

“Great, now get me home. I need to get out of these wet clothes.”


 

THEY SAY A LOT

Buster Gloves sits on a rowing machine inside a hotel gym. Bar in hand, ass in seat, he reaches forward, extends his legs and pulls. A medium pace. Strong and consistent. The camera slowly pans around him, cuts to his face, cut’s away again, following him throughout his promo.

People say they’re an open book. They say they don't have a problem discussing anything going on in their life. Even to a stranger. That’s a good thing, right?

In this business, I’ve met a lot of people who describe themselves that way. That’s this entire freaking industry. “Pages” and “Books”. The “Pages” I can deal with. The “Open Books”, not so much. Ned Kaye is an open book. Sure, he’s friendly enough on the surface, but he’s not being nice, he’s working an angle. When guys like Ned invite you in, they tell you everything. Too much. Maybe it is better to just put all the information on the table and let your audience decide what to do with it. But is that what he’s actually doing? The truth is that guys like Ned Kaye overcommunicate. They do it to drive the narrative their way, and I don’t like it.

These are the same guys, who get to know all your secrets by revealing some unsavory bits of their own history. Later on, when they have no more use for you, they use that same information against you. It’s not like they ever reveal anything that you couldn’t find out anyway. Every single bad thing Ned Kaye has done is already documented on the internet. I could have found all the dirt I needed to destroy him in the car ride to the arena. By giving me information on his terms, he’s not making himself vulnerable. He’s controlling the narrative.

I imagine Ned Kaye is just like everybody else in the fight game. Rough childhood. Abusive relationships. Problems with addiction. Trophy cases full of dusty belts. And a spot reserved for him in the wrestling hall of fame. He won’t tell anybody who’s been following pro wrestling for a while anything that we haven’t heard a hundred times before. 

When there’s somebody just projectile vomiting words in front of you, you try to resist the urge to hear their story, but it’s hard not to take a look inside to see if there’s any room for growth. Because deep down we want insider information. We want to be the first to know. Like we’re worthy of being trusted with a secret. But you should be careful with whose monologues you’re listening to. Because it’s usually a trap. It’s mind control. These people aren’t letting you know where they stand, they’re looking for immunity.

Anybody that’s willing to tell you their entire life story the minute you meet them shouldn’t be trusted. They won’t keep your secrets. They feel no shame for their actions. They aren’t venting, they’re recruiting. They’re only interested in their own elaborate web of poor decisions. And you’re only worth the emotional labor you can do for them.

These people have a way of making you feel safe to share your own story. Be careful about that. Stop and think about what the other person might do with YOUR information before you tell them something that can be used against you. Because when you cross them, or they get the impression that you aren’t 100 percent loyal to their side, the people who know you best are the ones most equipped to destroy you.

Ned Kaye is an open book. He says a lot of words and tells a lot of stories. Mostly about himself and how great he is. Any smart wrestler should just let him talk and decide which of his pages are worth reading. I won’t share MY story until I’m absolutely sure that I can trust the person I’m telling it too.

The book of Notorious Ned Kaye is a story of kings and other bullshit. It has a pretty cover, but I’m just not interested in reading the pages right now. Too long. Didn’t read. On Warfare this Wednesday night, I’m closing Ned’s book and putting it back on the shelf where it belongs.

~~~

DRY RUN

“Why do I do this to myself? I hate this town. I don’t like these people. But I’d rather be hated for what I am, than to be loved for what I’m not.”

Buster Gloves exits the revolving door of the casino lobby, jogging down the most unnatural street in America. It’s a cold morning; colder than you’d expect for a desert town like Las Vegas, but he should warm up once he gets moving. Ever since he came back from Hawaii, the noise in his head has been wearing him down. A good run should purge those thoughts. He moves at a medium speed, waving to the early birds and the all-nighters. His heart pounds behind a black XWF hoodie. Gloved hands pump back and forth down the path framed by tall buildings, protective barriers, and pedestrian bridges. Autopilot engages. One step, another step, repeat, until you get away from one thing or towards another.

“Just a few miles to clear my head. Log off. Shut down. Run maintenance.”

Buster doesn’t listen to music when he exercises. It’s better that way. Soaking in the sound. Paying attention to your surroundings. The smell of the streets. Like sex and pollution. Gold and garbage. Buster hates this town. Always has since the first time he came here for an MMA fight. He lost that match and being here is just a reminder of that failure. Besides, Sin City is no place for a father of two who doesn’t drink, doesn’t gamble, and doesn’t ‘do’ strippers. But he DOES love pro wrestling. He REALLY f*cking loves it, and Las Vegas is pro wrestling Mecca in current year. This is where he needs to be.

“Does anyone really ENJOY running? Or is it one of those things you just endure?”

It’s compulsion that gets you out of bed at 6 am when you don’t need to. Ask any runner why they do it and they will probably tell you the same thing. They will tell you it’s for the runner’s high. The body works in repetition, parts of the brain shut down, and after long enough, the rest of the mind opens up. Clarity given as a reward for hard work. It works. You should try it some time.

“The pain of running relieves the pain of living.”

How far has it been? There aren’t any mile markers in the city. No trails. No trees. Just modern architecture. Ugly. Flashy. Soulless factories of deviant behavior. The Velvet Rabbit is one of these such buildings, but it does provide a reprieve. It’s whatever you need it to be, and it apologizes for nothing. Life, like running on a trail, isn’t about where you started or how far you’ve gone. What matters most is how much longer you have to go. The trick is knowing how much is left in your tank before you decide to head back home.

“There is no turning back, just different directions to move forward.”

Buster spots the landmark around the bend. It’s just some tacky neon sign with a golden dancing girl. It doesn’t represent anything. It doesn’t mean a whole lot. But each morning, he laces up his trainers, hits the streets, and runs up to say hello to her. Good morning, Glory. Same time tomorrow?

“Obstacles do not block the path. They ARE the path.”

Notorious Ned Kaye is the next obstacle on Buster’s path. Uncrowned. Unbreakable. Unstoppable. A veteran of the XWF intent on using Buster to propel himself back into the title picture. It sounds like he just needs a friend. Either way, friend or foe, Buster will fight this guy. What’s there to lose? Just show up and fight your fight. Nothing to it. All that’s left to do is to tie the laces. Empty the mind. And RUN.

“The last mile is much easier than the first. It’s time to send it.”






“NOTORIOUS”

Today’s wrestling fans are smart. They aren’t the toothless, racist, rednecks of the territories. They appreciate the art of pro wrestling. They know what we’re up to and why we’re in this business. We aren’t the carnies trying to cheat people out of money either. The expectations for pro wrestling are much greater than ever before. A lot more is expected out of us and we’re responsible for providing an authentic wrestling experience.

Some of the guys in the back bitch and complain about the fans. They call them pathetic basement dwellers with neckbeards and body pillows. These guys forget that wrestling fans of the world, OUR fans, are the reason we have jobs. And it really pisses me off when another wrestler lets their ego get the best of them, turning their backs on the people that got them here.

Wrestling fans, to me, are the most passionate and educated fandom on the entire planet. They really appreciate the effort we put into our work, and the sacrifices we make on THAT mat, for the sake of telling a story. And don’t get it twisted. Professional wrestling absolutely IS storytelling. You can put two monkeys in a cage and watch them wrestle-f*ck each other to death, but it won’t be anywhere near the experience you get when two ring artists are performing in front of you. Our job is to make a connection with each and every fan. We need you to cheer us on and boo us. Buy our gear and burn it if you want to. I’ve come to the XWF to tell some stories to the fans. I hope you want to hear them.

Buster Gloves represents… pure, traditional, raw, competition. No dives. No flips. Just the core mechanics of combat. Wrestling, Boxing, Muay Thai, and Jiu Jitsu. That’s where I live. When I’m in that ring, I’m doing things the right way, the old-fashioned way. Because that’s how you pop a crowd. That’s how you build heat. That’s how you keep tradition.

I see so many of these peacocks, making a bunch of noise and sh*tting all over the board. They rush through every bit of opportunity they get. They force reactions. Like fools with wide impatient eyes lusting for gold. Nobody understands the value of hard work, dedication, or loyalty anymore. I don’t say that because I’m some old has-been that the world has already used up. I say THAT because I appreciate every second that I get, doing this job that I love. 

I keep things simple in the ring. Because less is more. If you wanna win, you don’t run around with your ass out. You go right at the guy, you club him, you take out his legs. You ground and pound the son of a bitch until his body quits. And then you shake his hand and go home to your wife and kids.

‘Notorious’ Ned Kaye, says he’s “the heart of this company”. Says he’s ‘The Ace.’ He says a lot of great things about himself. But he doesn’t stop to honor tradition. He only honors himself. He says he’s the good guy, but he’s not. He’s looking to redeem his damaged ego. You see, the “Notorious” N. E. D. hasn’t been able to win a match in a long time. And don’t you tell me that a forfeit win over a literal gorilla is something worth being proud of. He lost to MY FRIEND Peter Vaughn. He couldn’t beat MY FRENEMY Finn Kuhn. Ned Kaye may very well be uncrowned, unbreakable, and unstoppable. But he’s also ungrateful.

The calm demeanor of Ned Kaye isn’t representative of his mild nature. It’s a strategy to manipulate minds for his own personal gain. He doesn’t want to be a better person; he only wants to be PORTRAYED as the better person. He tries and fails, and tries and fails, and insists that the world still settles around him. But he’s in the sport of pro-wrestling for the wrong reasons. Sure, he has the technique, the experience, the gas tank. A million-dollar body and a ten-cent head.

You don’t come to the XWF for a paycheck. You come here for immortality. If you’re ever gonna be remembered in the books of wrestling history, it’ll be because you made your reputation HERE. The hall of champions in this place whispers the name of legends. Gods walk amongst us, and Ned Kaye is still too wrapped up in himself to appreciate the luster.

I hope Ned is listening to me because this next part is just for him. MR. KAYE! I don’t give a flying fudge monkey about your desire to be redeemed. Everyone who lived through the last 3 years has been through tragedy and pain and has questioned their own will to continue. YOU ARE NOT UNIQUE. We are all born to suffer. YOU ARE NOT SPECIAL. We’re all struggling with something. YOU. ARE NOT. THE COMPLETE PACKAGE. You’re just another soul, on this rock, making shit up as you go, trying to convince other people that you have it all figured out.

Wednesday night, it’ll be my pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kaye. I don’t care about your story. I don’t care about how far you’ve run to be here. Your history, my history, don’t matter. Because history doesn’t define destiny. Heart does. I take this world of wrestling very seriously. It’s an honor to defend this ring in front of the best fans in the world. Neither of us leaves San Antonio until you realize that there are things in this world way more important that your own… insignificant… bullshit.

Fight for glory if you want. Just know that glory is temporary… and wrestling… is forever.