X-treme Wrestling Federation
random BS - Printable Version

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random BS - C Y R E N - 01-09-2013

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~CWF REPENT~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~</center>
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Mature Audiences Only
This program is specifically designed
to be viewed by adults and therefore
may be unsuitable for childer under 17

Official Repent Theme Song: "Clockwork Orange" by: The Viddy Well's












The first PPV in CWF's Return kicks off in glorious fashion, as fireworks sprinkle downwards from the rafters, consuming the entire awe-struck crowd in a haze of sparks.

Blaring out from huge mega-speakers attatched to the Teletron, a huge 44" ft. by 28" ft. digital monstrosity hung from the middle of the ceiling with huge screens on all four sides, is the official CWF Repent theme song, "Clockwork Orange" by: The Viddy Well's. A chilling, heart-clenching melody that's deceptive whistle of harmony is easily seen through as a facade for something much, much darker...

Our attention is drawn by the camera, to an open spot on the floor, by the ring. It's obvious to see that the foreign men, one's skin color a dark mocha, the other's an olive maroon, are not exactly locals. Dressed emmaculately, and presenting an aura of regality, they capture our attention. That is until....


BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!!!!!!!!!!!


.................................................................................... DEAD GIRL, DEAD GIRL SUPERSTAR, WELL SHE HIT THE GROUND, LIKE A DEAD BOUNTY KILLER CLOWN............‘

'Dead Girl Superstar’ by: Rob Zombie echoes around the huge arena, as red and black flames shoot back and forth between a special device set-up near the rampway. It creates flames, in thin lines, shot sideways. Then, we see something truly marvelous. The OWNER of the CORPORATE WRESTLING FEDERATION!!! DEMONICA!

She steps up to the barrier of intricate flames, staring down the empty rampway. Looking out at the crowd, she has a huge smile plastered across her face. There are signs everywhere, pro and con towards her, and she absorbs it all in a perfunctory haze.

Instantly, the flames stop shooting. Demonica grins, and walks through confidently, even as only a second later, the flames return, singing a few astray strands of her brunette hair. The camera switches to a lower plain, as we see the strands of hair fall downward, as the edges of Demonica's feet move forward.

We turn around at a normal arc, to find her marching closer to the ring with every step. Soon, she's there, sliding in gracefully as if some dangerous feline. She very well might be, in some aspects.

Striding to the center of the canvas, she plucks the microphone from he rback-pocket, and looks out at the crowd with a beautiful smile. She nods her head as the entire crowd begins roaring.

But then she grins, flips them all the double-bird, and begins speaking.

Needless to say, it is barely audible.

DEMONICA: Hello, hello... welcome, my darlings... to an event so SPECTACULAR... so MAGNIFICENT.. so... so....

She trails off, waving her hands around with a scrunched up face, as if trying to recall something to memory. She holds out her finger, in the universal sign of remembrance.

DEMONICA: AH! I know... just the word I was trying to find. It fits perfectly! The first PPV back since the CWF's re-inception, is not your mere telecast. It's a technological step-ahead in our industry, by our physical setup and our cutting-edge crowd pleaser, the CWF TELETRON! We're lightyears ahead of our peers when talking about the sheer volume of talented superstars, I mean... seriously, folks... Kitten, Micheal Graves, Sean Graves, Cyren, Raziel, KoRe, Extreme Warrior... the list is comparably endless. We are so much MORE, then what our competition is. And that word... the greatest and simplest way to describe this PPV, and this company as a whole, is.... S-U-P-E-R-I-O-R!

She laughs, as a huge portion of the audience, is continuously booing her, expressedly wearing their XWF T-shirts and paraphenalia.. Yet, a decently-sized section of the crowd is cheering heavily. They are wearing Dynasty Wrestling merchandise.
Demonica, just stands there are she takes it all in. Her grin is pure swiss.

DEMONICA: Yes, yes.. I know this is a developmental territory for the XWF. We are a 'feeder' federation, but that is not to say that this little pond isn't full of big fish! No, no... it's purely financial, our dependance on the XWF. It is for that reason, I will derive great pleasure in seeing TEAM CWF, take home the XWF World Title at Zero Tolerance, after savaging and dismantling the XWF crew at their 7th Year Anniversary Special, 05-05-05! Yet, that is neither here nor there.

She smiles, her grin becoming a bit facetious. The crowd is as antsy as always, as they fight amongst themselves, hustling and bustlign to vendors and concessions. Demonica's facial expression changes a tad, as she walks to the edge of the ring-ropes, nearest to the table of the curious gentleman who have now put headsets on.

DEMONICA: Our product, needs no help... and our roster couldn't get any better. Afterall, it is fairly hard to improve upon perfection. Yet, I feel it is my duty, to always strive for as great a product, I can.. for you....

She pulls the microphone away, and holds out both arms, in a sickeningly sweet display of acting.

DEMONICA:... the greatly valued, powerfully circulative... CWF Audience... let's hear it for you guys... a round of a pplause!

She begins clapping her hands, and mimicking a tear in her eye, comically brushing it away. Several hundred fans in the audience clap with her.

Her clapping stops.

DEMONICA: However, I've got to keep things copacetic. So, I've brought in a special team of new CWF crew! Some who will be doing part-time duty, tonight... and some who will be pulling the full mule.

She points to a blonde woman, who is now only visible to us, standing by the side of the table at ringside. She shyly brushes away a lock of her golden hair. She is wearing a halter top, and a short leather mini-skirt.

DEMONICA:That gorgeous gal over there, is the new official Ring Announcer for the CWF! Her name is Taylor Capretti, and I have full confidence, that each and everyone of you, will find her...unique style, pleasing and satisfactory.

The crowd hoots and hollers. They find other 'assets' of the young woman, pleasing... and satisfactory.

Pointing her finger at the curious gentleman, the CWF Owner, explains their appearence.

DEMONICA: Now, these two FINE, gentleman right here... well, they're a bit of an experiment. My search for appropriate CWF Announcers, spanned the expanse of the globe. I sought high, I sought low... I got high, I did blow... you know, you know.. the whole shebang. Yet, in my search... a never-wavering sense of trepidation has forced me to hold back from pushing commentators upon you... so in the interest of the entire CWF, and with respec to that DUELLY beloved audience... yes, that's you..

Once again, she fakely claps respect to the audience, as they begin booing her even louder.

DEMONICA: Alright, alright... I got it, you guys couldn't dare to part with me! However, as I was saying... I was a tad cautious to just spring some new guys on all of you, so for tonight only... I'm going to allow them to call ONE match. Namely....

Her head cocks to the side, as darkness spreads across her face.

DEMONICA: ... MY MATCH! So, I'll be the lil' soldier of the CWF, and take the risk for all of us. My... mystery opponent, and DON'T YOU THINK, I'll let you know who it is yet... and I, will put on a classic match for the CWF Ownership, in a firy infernio, that's spanish for... well...Inferno, match that's sure of becoming an all-time addition into the annels of wrestling lore.

Resting her head downward, trying to think of something else to say, she is lost in thought. Abruptly she comes back out of it. wither her cheap plastic smile.

DEMONICA: Oh yes, I almost forgot to tell each and everyon--

She flips the double bird again at the crowd, as we hear the microphone smack hard against the ringmat.

The boo's nearly drown her, as she makes her way out of the ring, and to the back.




Our view fading into the backstage area, we find ourselves looking at a confident face. A dangerous face. A... painted face?

MICHEAL GRAVES: Hello, world... it's nice to meet you... can I get your name?

His face is all we see, excpt for a crack of light, allowing us a gleary view of the brick wall behind him. The challenger for the CWF World Title, is a man of lucid madness. His grin is crimson and cracked, with a dash of charred darkness, expertly crafted onto his face. His tongue is dyed black, as it reaches out wetting his lips, as he raspily breathes and chuckles.

MICHEAL GRAVES: Oh... what's that? What's your name again, I barely hear---oh? Chaos? It's... interesting, but fitting. Your parents give you tha- oh? They did... oh, their children too? Hmmm...

Shaking his head, from side to side... the man's psychotic grin fails, and he tilts his head to the side. Standingup, the Camera zooms out, as we hear a bang off to the right...

???: What are you blabbering about now, kid?

A wobbly man, is seen. His eyes, a slate gray, connect with Micheal's, signifying familiarity. Micheal Graves walks over to him, and extends a hand.

MICHEAL GRAVES: Terry...

TERRY BLACKSTONE: Look, man... if you're going to be pulling your creepy, 'creatre of the night', bullshit... I'll have to choose to see what's behind door number '3', and get the hell out of here.

The gloomy man known as the Dark Warrior, scoffs.

MICHEAL GRAVES: World's not too bright, and life's not that great, my man... and tonight, that kind of shit is hitting the fan, 'cuz I'm slinging it myself. Tonight... I change the rules.

The elderly man shakes his head as he whistles, as a couple of known CWF wrestlers walk past him. KoRe, who stumbles forward, and slips to the ground, holding a bottle of Jack Daniels, and mumbling about the 'wizadry of the miniscule blue people...', as Enforcer hefts him to his feet, and hefts him up by his collar and walks him down the hallway.

Micheal and Terry watch the odd duo march past them, but then Terry comes to his senses, and eyes his young protoge.

TERRY BLACKSTONE: Rules are a powerful thing, Micheal. Let them bend... and like you said, there truly is chaos. However, break them... and it's not so pretty. In fact, it's downright ugly. Pure, unadulterated Anarchy, is the road to armageddon. So rules... those aren't made by you. You don't make or break them, Micheal. They make or break you.

The man walks away, leaving Micheal to stew in his thoughts.









Singles Match
-Normal Rules
Wonderboy
vs.
Chuck Conlon

Wonderboy and Chuck Conlon get face to face in the middle of the ring and Wonderboy is grinning in Conlon's face while Conlon has a smirk of his own. The bell sounds and the two superstars start to circle each other. Conlon appears to make the first move as he rushes Wonderboy. The two lockup and Conlon quickly gets Wonderboy into a headlock. Wonderboy pushes Conlon off and into the ropes. Conlon bounces back and hits a shoulder block on Wonderboy, knocking him down to the mat. Wonderboy quickly gets back up to his feet, looking at Conlon a little surprised.

Wonderboy fixes his hair a bit and nods his head with a smirk. Conlon smiles back and the two start circling each other again. They lock up again and after during a display of power, Wonderboy is able to push Conlon back into the ropes. Wonderboy then whips Conlon, but Conlon reverses. Wonderboy bounces off the ropes and comes back to meet a clothesline across the throat. Wonderboy scrambles back up to his feet to his feet with that look of shock again as Conlon continues to smirk.

A little irate now, Wonderboy goes to lockup with Conlon once more. Just as they about to do so, Wonderboy kicks Conlon in the gut and then starts a series of hard rights. Conlon tries to cover up as he is forced into the corner. Wonderboy took a moment to taunt Conlon, but a moment was all Conlon needed as he grabbed Wonderboy and turned the assault on him. Wonderboy moves out of the corner to the center of the ropes as Conlon continues the assault. Conlon backs away and mocks Wonderboy's taunt. Conlon goes to clothesline Wonderboy, but Wonderboy ducks down, grabbing the top rope and sending Conlon flying to the outside. Wonderboy tries to catch his breath as the ref starts his 10-Count on Conlon who is struggling to get back up to his feet.

Wonderboy climbs out of the ring to grab Conlon by the hair. After a couple of shot to the face, Wonderboy takes Conlon and whips him into the ring steps shoulder first. Conlon grabs his shoulder in pain as Wonderboy is in control of the match. Wonderboy picks Conlon up and rolls him into the ring. Wonderboy quickly slides in and goes for the cover. 1...2...Conlon kickouts.

Wonderboy picked Conlon up and executed a snap suplex. He again went for the pin and Conlon quickly kicked out. Wonderboy mounts Conlon and started punching him in the face in which the ref gets involved and pulls Wonderboy off. Wonderboy and the ref get into a verbal argument, giving Conlon enough time to recover. After dealing with the ref, Wonderboy turns around and as he bent down to pick Conlon up, Conlon quickly rolls him up in a pin. 1...2... Wonderboy kicks out. Wonderboy quickly gets back up to his feet as does Conlon. Wonderboy goes for a clothesline, but Conlon ducks it and the moment Wonderboy turns around, he is met with foot to face as Conlon hits him with a Heel Kick, sending Wonderboy falling back to the mat.

Conlon drops down to a knee and pins Wonderboy, hooking the leg. 1...2... Wonderboy barely kicks out before 3 and Conlon can't believe it. Conlon picks Wonderboy up and then whips him hard into the corner, causing Wonderboy to crash chest first into the turnbuckles. Wonderboy is down and in a lot of pain as he holds his chest, trying to catch his breath. Conlon has a smirk on his face now as he picks Wonderboy back up and whips him hard in the opposite corner and again, Wonderboy crashes hard. Wonderboy is holding his chest as Conlon continues to grin.

Conlon stands over Wonderboy and starts kicking him in the chest along with kneeing him. Wonderboy tires to cover up, but when he does, Conlon is hits him in the head, causing Wonderboy to let up. The ref pulls Conlon off of Wonderboy who is looking to be on his last leg. While Conlon exchanges words with the ref, Wonderboy makes it back up to his feet. Conlon turns around and goes to punch Wonderboy, but Wonderboy blocks it and connects with a punch of his own. Conlon staggers back a little and then comes back for another, but Wonderboy again blocks it and connects with another punch. Conlon goes for one more punch and Wonderboy blocks that one as well. Wonderboy then starts connecting with a series of punches, forcing Conlon into the ropes. Wonderboy goes to whip Conlon, but Conlon reverses and whips Wonderboy instead. Wonderboy bounces back and ducks an attempted clothesline by Conlon. Wonderboy then bounces off the opposite ropes and the two collide after both attempting a clothesline on each other. Both men are down and out as the ref starts his 10 count.

Just as the ref is about to count 10, both Conlon and Wonderboy get up to their feet. After staggering for a moment, Wonderboy goes to clotheslines Conlon, but Conlon reverses it and locks Wonderboy in the Conlon Crossface. Wonderboy is yelling out in pain as he tries crawling for the ropes. Conlon tightens the hold, but Wonderboy was able to reach the ropes. Conlon doesn't break the hold and the ref starts his 5 count. Conlon finally breaks it and starts kicking Wonderboy repeatedly in the head. Conlon then picks Wonderboy up and hits him with the Conlon Crusher. Conlon makes the cover. 1...2...3!!!

Winner: Chuck Conlon



creeeeeeaaaaaaaak......

We find ourselves... sheathed.

There is little around us visible, blanketed by an odd sheen of darkness. There are two un-ending walls, as far as we can tell.
Light, reflected by a torch is bright upon one, dim along the other. Two lone figures are in the room, their shadows the only thing seen.

MELKIAH: Enes vi trivitec maundala zwarte die furies..... repeat it.

The other figure nods, his blonde hair shimmering in the twilight of his torch, his face barely outlined.

RAZIEL: Enes vi trivitec maundala zwarte die furies.

MELKIAH: Good. I feel your energy... these incantations will allow you to better balance yourself when confronted with the power that lies within you.

RAZIEL: What? So this is a form of... meditation? Sleep?

The other man is quiet for a brief moment, before his head nods, all we can see is the shadows still. Nothing but shadows...

MELKIAH: Think of it more like... de ja vu. Try to... remember the past, as if it was your future. Know that you have done something, and you have. Simply understand that the feat is accomplished, and it will be as so. The powers we possess, reside in everyone... but for the others, they have but fragments of a whole, shards of a power that was broken irrepairably eons ago. We though, we're purer in form, and more concentrated in spirit. The better, we are not, Merely the more fortunate.

RAZIEL: You are wise, Melkiah... that's evident, but wisdom isn't everything. I need to have a hold of the power in myself, to defeat the foes I know are coming. They are strong.... KoRe is a veteran warrior, and Regan Chambers is a virulent soldier. These men are not meak, and it will take everything I have to quell them.

MELKIAH: Not everything, Olde one... not everything. You have so much more then you'll ever know.

The shadow's look upwards, but one now drops low.

RAZIEL: But... is it enough?

The other shadow reaches forward and places a hand upon his disciple.

MELKIAH: It always will be, Master Raziel.... always.





Singles Match
-Normal Rules
Alexander Cutwright
vs.
Enforcer


The two competitors have slowly made their way to the ring, taking their time in this momentous matchup.
The crowd is in a roar, as the referee calls for the bell, signifying the commencement of the match!

DING DING DING!!

Cutwright is the first one to act, rushing at Enforcer at a dead run. Enforcer is quick to react, much quicker then Cutwright could have assumed, because Enforcer snapped up a european uppercut, knocking his rival back a few steps. Cutwright stumbles, and Enforcer presses the opprotunity, hitting a drop toe hold on Cutwright. Bringing his hands to his face, Cutwright rolls around in the ring, as we see a small splatter of blood left on the canvas. As Enforcer drags Cutwright to his feet, we see that blood is slowly trickling out of Cutwright's nose. The rabid beast though doesn't lay down, as he snaps a crescent kick into Enforcer's midsection. Enforcer bends down holding his stomach, allowing Cutwright to hit a solid DDT!! He goes for a Pin. ONE...TW-!! Kickout by Enforcer. Enforcer rolls to his feet, along his back like a languid cheetah. Cutwright runs, enraged at Enforcer aiming for a RUNING LARIANT, BUT Enforcer REVERSES! FUJIWARA ARMBAR! FUJIWARA ARMBAR! Cutwright is fighting it! He's fighting it, getting to his knees! He's trying to twist out..He rolls his own shoulder, and escapes! He swings a knee at Enforcer, but it's ill-wasted, as Enforcer shrugs it off and drops a knee into the back of Cutwright. He does this a few more times, as Cutwright lays there. Then, Enforcer climbs the top rope and signals for THE CHOKE SLAM!!!! Enforcer locks eyes with Alex for a moment, and then he falters. He looks around himself, at the thousands of fans, then back at Cutwright! Cutwright isn't moving, his eyes also locked on Enforcer's.

Enforcer shakes his head, and listens to the audience. THE CROWD IS AMPED! And without further adiue, Enforcer JUMPS, AND HITS THE DEATH Enforcer!!! BANNNNNG! The ring is shaking from the fluid and beautiful move! Ref counts....ONE...TWO....THREE!!!

Winner and recalled to the XWF Roster: Enforcer


There is neigh a weak-willed soul along this corridor.


....M--ma---my...-madness...


We are in the backstage area of the CWF Arena, staring at a door. Not just any door though, but a dressing-room door.
And not just ANY dres--

STAFF: Hey, you in there? Get your shit together man...

The stocky man, his hair falling to his shoulders in curls, knocks heavily on the door after speaking. Receiving no reply, he waves his hands at the door, and strides away.

Blood seeps under the door...

WHAT? Whose blood is this...wait...

Whose dressing room does this belong to???

We stare up at the tile attatched to the door.


"S E A N G R A V E S"




Singles Match
 Battle Royal
Extreme Warrior, Triple X, Faith
vs.
Aaron Fraser,Will Evans, J-Money

All 6 of the match's combatants are in the ring, when Demonica's music hits and she walks onto stage with a microphone.

DEMONICA: Aaron Fraser, Will Evans, J-Money, and Triple X.... GET THE HELL OUT OF MY RING! I heard about the backstage stuff you four pulled, and it won't be tolerated. So here... right now, I'm dressing you all down. GET OUT, GO Home... be at the next Assault, and be ready to fight. I'll have something special cooked up for all of you!

That being said, the 4 subjects in question, nod their heads at one another as if caught with their hand in the cookie jar. They walk out of the ring, leaving Extreme Warrior and Faith! This just became a SINGLES MATCH!!!

The match begins with Faith in the ring. She is amped and ready for action.

The Ref signals for the bell.

DING DING DING!!!

Warrior begins the match with a clothesline, but Faith coutners with a drop toe hold. Warrior hits the ground hard but quickly recovers, flinging bakc to his feet and smashing Faith in the mouth with a thunderous right hand. She flies into the ring ropes, as Warrior charges. She ducks down and Warrior flies to the outside of the ring, hitting the cold cement floor. He rubs his head, as Faith jumps over the ropes, in a swan dive. She hits Warrior hard, but richochets off and hits the railing as well, her shoulder snapping into the border. Warrior is the first to get up, but Faith is able to knock him off his feet with a swift crescent kick. Warrior looks up as Faith attempts a quick elbow drop, and he rolls out of the way, as she smacks her elbow into the floor. She holds it as Warrior grips her back from the floor, and presses her up in the air with a HUGE Gorilla Press Slam! He then tosses her WAY INTO THE AIR, and laughs as her body slams into the guarding once again. The crowd looks on excited, as Warrior gives them the thumbs up. He turns around to work back on Faith, but she kicks him in the groin. He bends over and she retaliates with a DDT onto the cold slab surface. Warrior again holds his head, as Faith crawlsd on top of the barrier. She hops off and lands an Ass-Kisser on Warrior, smashing his face into the floor, as blood splatters under him. When she jumps off and tugs ihm to his feet, he's bleeding... but Warrior waves it off, as he hits a quick european uppercut on Faith, making her reel.

Seeing his opprotunity, he HIT'S THE EXTREME PAIN!!! EXTREME PAIN!!

Faith slams against the mat, as Extreme Warrior rolls her up.

ONE.......TWO......THREE.....

Winner: Hellfire X




Singles Match
 Inferno-Ownership Match
???
vs.
Demonica

Mike Diamond: Joey, this match confuses the hell out of me!

Mike Diamond: Hey, you are not the only one who is confused. I am not surprised by the fact that there is going to be an ownership match. Demonica is all about the ratings. But… Why would she book the match herself?

Mike Diamond: It doesn't make one bit of sense. I can only hope our great owner knows what she is getting herself into…

The bell rings three times…

Taylor Capretti:: The following match is an Inferno match and it is for the Ownership of the Corporate Wrestling Federation! First, on her way to the ring…

‘Dead Girl Superstar’ by Rob Zombie hits the P.A. system. Demonica appears from a wall of fire that bursts on the rampway.

Taylor Capretti:: She is the Corporate Wrestling Federation Owner… She is… DEMONICA!

The fans go nuts as the owner makes her way to the ring with a surprising smile on her face. Demonica walks down to the ring and sees the metal object surrounding the ring that will soon be ablaze. Demonica climbs up the steel steps and she goes through the ropes. Demonica grabs the microphone from Taylor Capretti:.

Demonica: Introducing my opponent… who may or may not become the owner of the CWF… I give you…

The fans draw their attention to the stage. ‘Swinging the Dead’ by Devildriver hits the speakers. Out from the back comes… Former CWF World Champion…

UNTOUCHABLE!!!!

He was just fired last week, but here he comes with the opportunity of a lifetime. The fans are slightly disappointed.

Untouchable hits the ring and faces Demonica. Referee Mark Price calls for the bell and as it rings, the edges of the ring begin to catch fire until four walls of fire surround them…

Mike Diamond: This is not what I expected, but Demonica sure did give us a reason to tune in!

Demonica and Untouchable lock up. Untouchable gains the advantage quickly as he shoves her to the ground. Demonica smiles as she backs into the corner. Untouchable has an odd look on his face. Just in front of Demonica, a hole appears in the ring…

Mike Diamond: What the hell is that? A hole just appeared!

The hole becomes bigger as now what looks to be a hand is ripping through the ring. The hole becomes big enough for a person to fit in when it suddenly stops getting bigger. The arena lights go out! The only thing that can be seen is the fire that surrounds the ring until… A red spotlights hovers on the hole. Music begins to fill the arena. It is very disturbing…

Mike Diamond: What in God’s name are we witnessing?

Smoke begins to rise from the hole as well does a silhouette of a very large figure. The smoke begins to fade away and the whole arena now is filled with red light…

Mike Diamond: OH MY GOD!

Mike Diamond: OH MY GOD!

The outline is now very clear… it is…

HELLFIRE X!!!!!!!

Hellfire X is here and he stands in front of Demonica. Untouchable backs as far as he can into the corner. Hellfire X stalks him. Hellfire X grabs his arm and pulls him into a reverse DDT position. Hellfire X spins him around and nails a much quicker version of the ‘X-Virus’. From the stage, a black semi-truck starts to back to the ring. Slowly it gets to the ring while Hellfire X watches it. Finally, it nudges the ring and is now stopped. Hellfire X grabs the FACE of Untouchable and sticks it into the fire!!!

Mike Diamond: That is sick! NOOO! What is he doing to him???

Untouchable is screaming in pain. Hellfire X picks him up and tosses him over the top rope through the wall of fire and into the back of the truck. The doors close on there own and the truck takes off. In the ring, Hellfire X and Demonica face each other… Demonica hands him a microphone and the flames begin to fade, but not completely…

Hellfire X: Guess who is back??? Ha ha… That is right, ME! Do you all remember how Demonica was told to fake the death in the car accident? She did it perfect. Only, she was recognized eventually. You can thank the media for that. Well, in the car… contrary to what she told you, she was not hurt. Why? Because I dropped her off way before the accident and told her to catch up to it and act like she was hurt! She wasn’t near the car until it was all over!!! A coup, it was a scheme... and you ALL fell for it!!

The crowd is slightly shocked…

Hellfire X: But that is not the real story. The real story is myself. I WAS in the car. I slammed into the truck which was one of MY trucks that was placed there! And the cops? They were all hired by me! I crashed and I bailed though…! Sure, I was hurt… But I recovered! Remember the funeral? It wasn’t open to the public for a reason. I wasn’t being buried; I was having a party on the success of my plan. Eventually, I returned to the house that I had burned down about 7 months ago. I rebuilt that pile of crap that sits in the middle of nowhere in Arizona…

The crowd is cheering, but their voices are definitely showing signs of shock.

Hellfire X: When I finished, I sat biding my time until I made my return tonight. Untouchable thought he had an opportunity, but he was no more than my stage for a return. Sorry it had to end like that buddy… but… I am here now and I have a lot of work to do. First, I will name the NEW general manager of the CWF! I have a lot of wrestling to catch up on and I simply cannot control all of this all the time. So let me name the general manager… His name is…. CYREN!!!

The crowd does not know what to think!!

Mike Diamond: WOW, CYREN as GM?!?

Hellfire X: And well, to do that, I need to BE the owner…

The crowd is confused at this point.

Mike Diamond: How is he planning on take his ownership back?

Hellfire X goes up to Demonica who is smiling. He places a cloth, which turns out to be fireproof, on her hand. The cloth encompasses her enitre hand except for an ‘X’ that is cut out.

Hellfire X grabs her hand and places it in the fire!

Mike Diamond: What the hell!

Demonica’s hand is getting burnt on this missing spot. The cover is removed and a few seconds later Demonica’s hand can be seen. An ‘X’ is burnt on it! Hellfire X looks at the referee and the ref calls for the bell…

Taylor Capretti:: Here is your winner and the NEW Owner of the CWF… HELLFIRE X!

Hellfire X puts on the cover and burns an X on his hand as his name is announced as the winner. Hellfire X and Demonica kiss in the center of the ring with their hands smoking from the burns… The show goes to an advertisement for the next pay per view event…

Mike Diamond: Unbelievable…






Singles Match
 #1 Contendership Triple Threat
Kore and Raziel
vs.
Regan Chambers



The match begins with all the combatants in the ring except KoRe. The room begins to turn dark, as the arena is instantly bathed in darkness, as the lights dim. THE ORDER pentegram flickers on the ring and titantron, as the chilly themesong swafts around the arena. KoRe walks out from the curtain, walking along with Melkiah, who is draped in a hood. He holds out his arms in a 'What Can you Do?' expression. He steps into the ring slowly once to ringside, and mock-bows to KoRe. The ref puts them in their respective corners and calls for the bell, to commence the match!

DING DING DING!!!!!

KoRe starts the match with a HUGE SPEAR ON KoRe! KoRe impacts the mat, suprised by the spry KoRe! He rolls out of the way of a well-placed stomp from KoRe, only to corner himself against the turnbuckle. KoRe sees his chance and presses it, running forward in a suicide dive! He smashes into KoRe like a torpedo, smacking into his chest. He bounces off and rolls against the mat, as a deep blue bruise begins settling in on KoRe. KoRe automatically stats jumping up and down on the mat, riggling, as he holds his chest trying to regain his breath. KoRe though, rolls back toh is feet, and grips KoRe by the hair. He tugs him to his feet and goes for a kick, but KoRe smacks it away and hits a MASSIVE CLOTHESLINE! KoRe hits the mat hard, as KoRe stumbles back to the turnbuckle, clutching his sternum. He looks at the crowd, then at KoRe with a grin and begins climbing the ropes!! He gets to the top rope and holds his arms out, and then shrugs and HITS A FROG SPLASH! A FROG SPLASH FROM THE CORNER!! KoRe is smushed into the ring, as KoRe rattles across it, himself jumping up and down and grunting as his chest forces him to double over in pain. Raziel rolls out of the ring.

KoRe tries to get up, but Regan Chambers hits him in the head as he jumps into the match finally, just as KoRe is climbing to the top rope. Regan Chambers sees this.

Chambers runs to him and tries to push him off the top, but KoRe kicks him in the face. Chambers sputters back as KoRe flies off of the top in a suicide dive. He hits the man hard and Chambers flies completely out of the ring. KoRe rubs his shoulder where he had hit the man, and walks staunchly over to the ring ropes. Looking left and right, he hops over the ropes and to the outside, missing Chambers and bouncing off of the guarding rail. He holds his neck as Chambers hit's a Japanese Takedown. KoRe falls and holds his neck, and rolls to the side.Chambers presses the advantage and picks KoRe up and hitting a Press Slam on him, over the steel steps. KoRe holds his back in agony, as Chambers climbs the ring. He jumps of fof it as the crowd roars approval. BANG!

Chambers's leg drapes across KoRe's neck and the man rolls around, as he chokes. Chambers drags him back into the ring by his leg, and then proceeds to beat the crap out of him with lefts and rights. KoRe begins bleeding profusely from his left eye, as Chambers stands ihm on his feet. Chambers slaps his leg and goes for a Superkick, but Raz ducks and swipes his standing lef out from under him, rolling him up.

ONE......TWO..THR---KICKOUT!!! HE ALMOST HAD HIM!!

Regan Chambers rolls out and then jumps to his feet, hitting a chop on KoRe. KoRe rocks back as Chambers tries to him again, but this time KoRe counters the hold, putting Chambers in a fuji Armbar. He brings Chambers to his knees and wretches back on the hold. But Chambers won't submit, even as the ref bothers him with the query. Chambers tries to roll his shoulder. but it won't give, so he begins trying a hiptoss! He eventually gets it and sends KoRe flying over him. KoRe smacks the mat, as Chambers hits a quick elbow drop. KoRe hold's his chest, as Chambers stumbles over to the corner, holding his Arm. KoRe looks at Chambers as he gets to his knee. Chambers runs at KoRe and..... KoRe monkey flips him to the outside!

As KoRe collects his breath for a few minutes, Raziel slides back into the ring with a steel crowbar. KoRe is rising back to his feet, breathing heavily, and is cracked in the leg with the foreign object, he drops forward in a hurry, just as Raziel swings the pipe again right into the top of his head. KoRe falls back limp, and Raziel goes for the Cover!

ONE..........TWO.........THREE!!!!

Winner and NEW #1 Contender: Raziel





Singles Match
 Singles Match
Cyren
vs.
Kitten



In the backstage area... we find Hellfire X, waving his arms around, as he talks to someone.

HELLFIRE X: Please, understand... you're a valuable commodity!

???: You're afraid I'll get hurt? Or is it that I'll hurt him?

The NEW Owner of the CWF, motions his hands negatively.

HELLFIRE X: No, it's not that... it's just, XWF's 05-05-05 is but a few days away, so I need my marquee players, namely you AND Cyren, in top shape!

Kitten stands undisturbed.

KITTEN: You owe me.

HELLFIRE X: I do, I swear.. but this match, I just thought about it... the risk is too high.

Shaking her head, Kitten flips Hellfire the bird.

KITTEN: Don't worry... your precious commodity will be at 05-05-05....

She walks away, swiveling her hips as she goes.

Wetting his lips and grinning, the Owner watches her go...

HELLFIRE X: Precious Commodity, indeed...

CANCELLED MATCH!




Singles Match
 CWF WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP
Micheal Graves
vs.
Sean Graves


The camera returns to find TAYLOR CAPRETTI, in the ring. She is holding two notes, as she speaks.

TAYLOR CAPRETTI: Introducing first... wieghing in at--- oh you know what?

The young woman, immediately snaps out of her formal introduction, her smile lolling to the side.

TAYLOR CAPRETTI: These two gentleman are fucked up in the head... they don't need individual introductions, they're twins for god's sake! They're fucked up, homicidal, suicidal, infacidal lunatics!

She motions for them to come out, and at first... Micheal Graves comes to the ring to no music, soon followed by his brother Sean.

DING DING DING.

The match begins and Micheal runs at Sean,a ttempting a shoulder tackle, but Sean just grabs the back of Micheal's head and tosses him into the ropes, hitting him with a DDT on the way back. Micheal lay's stunned on the ground, amazed that such a Rookie could do that to him. He rolls to his feet, with a smug grin on his face and shurgs his shoulders. He runs again at Sean and attempts a clothesline, but the young upstart hits a reverse crucifix pin!

ONE......TWO........SHOULDER!!!

Micheal slugs his sibling off of him, and seems to finally take Sean seriously. He looks the man up and down, and then nods his head. He brings his hand upward and motions for Sean to 'bring it.' Sean most certainly does as he runs at Micheal, but then runs sideways of him and hops onto the ring ropes, bouncing off of them in a beautiful arc that sends him flying smack into Micheal's chest!

The two men roll to the ground, and slide across the ring. Micheal begins a series of punches into Sean's side, as Sean latches onto Micheal in a vicious headlock. The two men wretch and pound on eachother for a moment, but Micheal gets the momentum he needs. He stands up slowly, making his way to his feet. He picks Sean up in a back-body suplex that makes the entire ring shake. Sean grimaces in agony, as Micheal begins another one, not quite able to shake Sean off. He picks Sean up again, letting him hand in the air...then...WAIT!! COUNTER-BULLDOG! BULLDOG!! BOOOOOOOOMMM!! Micheal's head bounces off the mat, as Sean rolls over to the side for a moment, trying to regain his breath. The two men looks completely spent as the ref begins counting them both down. They are both up at 6, and Micheal runs against the ropes and tries to take out Sean's knee, but Sean flips completely over Micheal, and hits a sweep kick. Micheal hits the mat as someone appears from backstage. It's KoRe!

KoRe drunkenly stumbles down the rampway holding a bottle of beer. Getting to the ring, he stares around, his eyes glassy.

KoRe: This isn't the bar...

He drains his bottle of Jack Daniel's then throws it into the ring. Micheal looks at the bottle of Jack Daniels, and then at Sean. Sean looks slightly frightened, as Micheal stands back up, clutching the bottle in his hand.. Sean shakes his head and tries to hit a spear on Micheal, but Micheal sidesteps and SMASHES THE BOTTLE OF JACK DANIELS OVER SEANS HEAD!! THE BOTTLE EXPLODES, SENDING SHARDS OF GLASS EVERYWHERE!!

Micheal smiles, as he drops to the ground, and rolls Sean over. He lays a foot over his brother, and puts on a pose.

ONE......TWO..........KICKOUT!!!!!!!!

Micheal can't believe it, he looks at the broken bottle in his hand...then at Sean, slowly rising to his feet. He looks at the bottle..and..what? He's poiting to the beer on the ground and telling Sean he made him waste it!!

Sean gets up to his feet, and looks at the mad Micheal. He smiles and looks at the shard of glass in Micheal's hand, even as a large wound in his head begins flowing blood. He licks his lips and charges at Micheal!!! Micheal merely ducks under Sean's attempt, and kicks him in the stomach. Looking at the broken shard in his hand, he quirks his head and then STABS Sean RIGHT IN THE SHOULDER with another stray piece of glass!!! Sean screams out loud as a decent portion of blood pours out of him, the glass embedded. Micheal then takes the advantage and sets Sean up for a VERTICAL SUPLEX!! He hangs Sean in the air, letting the blood rush to his head. And as he starts to fall, Sean falls with him, shifting the momentum, and falling on his feet to the mat. Micheal looks suprised as Sean european uppercuts him right in under the jaw. He reaches into his back and rips out the bloody piece of glass, and looks at the bruised Micheal. He shakes his head and then STABS Micheal RIGHT IN THE CHEST!! OH MY GOD!! The glass, still slick with Sean's blood, is inserted into Micheal's sternum!! Micheal reaches down, and feels the blood as Sean sickeningly hits a quicksnap DDT

Micheal lays there for a moment, still... as Sean jumps to the outside of the ring, snatching a microphone and...bumps into KoRe. The man known as a wrestling icon drunkenly slurs his words as he speaks.

KoRe: Yoo--yoore...a purrrty...laddy...you's...got..a.purrrty...mouth...

Then, somewhat homo-erotically he pats Sean Graves derierre, and turns to walk away, but not before getting punched in the gut by Sean! He then picks KoRe up and nails a brainbuster!!! KoRe is out!

Sliding back into the ring, Sean Graves picks up a long, sharp piece of glass. He walks over to his brother, who's heavily bleeding... and turns him over. Noticing his fading counciousness, he slaps his brother around as he speaks into the microphone.

SEAN GRAVES: Hey... hey...yo.. BRO! Wake the fuck up.That's it... thatta boy...

Micheal looks around hazily, as he clutches his chest, oozing blood as members of the audience are screaming at Sean to stop torturing his brother. The ref is in a pickle... he can't call the first PPV Main Event!

MICHEAL GRAVES: F--..f--uck...yo---

The shard in Sean's hand, moves to Micheal's throat. A line of blood is seen.

SEAN GRAVES: I've got you beat, Dark Warrior... and do you know what that means?

MICHEAL GRAVES: Ugh...(gurgle)...uggh...n--n--

SEAN GRAVES: It means.... It means....

Sean Graves can't finish his sentence, as he notices something sticking from his bicep.

It's a needle.

Rolling to his side, clutching his side hard, Micheal stands to his feet, grinning wickedly. He pulls a vial out of his pants and tosses it to the outside, as his brother wobbles on his feet, Micheal plucks the microphone from his brother's hand, even as he himself stumbles from the lack of blood in his system. He moves shakily to his brother's face, holding him by the hair, so they are face-to-face.

MICHEAL GRAVES: It means... (rasp)...you're...(cough).... done, bitch.

Kicking his brother in the gut, Micheal Graves attempts a Powerbomb... and he's got the man set-up. The crowd is roaring, the chants for Micheal and Sean reach a crescendo just as the lights begin to flicker on and off AND....

Run, run, run... run........

The lights shut off, as the familiar Incantation blares around the arena.

Then... just as soon, they shut off.

To find BOTH the Graves brothers Unconcious, and not moving. Unfortunately... with Sean Graves atop his brother.

We look around... and there's no ref in sight, but yes.. there is one big suprise.

CYREN is in the ring, perched atop the ringbuckle. He skips down, drops to his knees and starts the count.

ONE......................TWO..............THREE!!!!! SEAN GRAVES HAS DONE IT... BUT HOW? WHAT HAPPENED!!!? AND... WAS THAT THE BLACK ORDER'S THEME MUSIC????? WHAT HAS THE NEW GENERAL MANAGER DONE????

Cyren lifts up the limp Sean Graves arm, in victory.

The scene fades to black on Cyren's dark face, with the insignia of the BLACK ORDER, on the screen.



Copyright © 2005
- Corporate Wrestling Federation Inc.

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RE: random BS - C Y R E N - 01-09-2013









Arc I: (The Olde Ones)






Without form we had no tentacles in which to keep our subordinates in line.

You must understand, this is the way of the world. How it was in the beginning, in the after, in the Ersther-plain...

The concepts of good and evil were not yet arisen. Labels, words, and language were dreams in the eye of the Omega, if there is one.

Our attatchment to this world, had all but withered. With our power waning, and our armies defeated... we made a choice.
Moving onto the next world, would be our escape and refuge. Yet, millenia should never be wasted, and we are not slothful bore's.

So we bequeathed a legacy....

Arc II: (Prometheus Ablaze.)

Roughly 20,000 Years B.C.

Olem had never come this far from the green place before. While searching for the squish that made crackle, he had his eyes closed simply from thinking about the warmth it would bring.

His naked form, half-beridden by ticks and a copious amount of other parasites, was shown. A loose piece of what looks to be bear-hide covers his torso.

The other's know not why Olem wears the cloth, or 'fangkeep', as they call it in reference to defeating the large-mouthed creature in battle. A warrior he is, this man. His face is brutish, a forehead that slopes slidely forward. His mouth hangs agape, inviting.

The others don't challenge him. There are 7 scrapes of red-dye gathered from the wind-tree lazily splashed against the lower part of his thigh. Those are the one's who challenged him. Olem enjoyed biting their necks, ripping into the life-tube, that he knew that would end a man's life.

This was Olem's gift. His massive size was a benefit, but his... he... reacted? Knew? Thought? That's what made him so unique.

He didn't eat what the other's did, they preferring to eat the raw meat of the young game that dared cross the devilish pack. No, he much preferred chewing on the tasteful shrimp from the sea, and slowly-cooking the fish... loving every bit of it, losing himself within happiness. The one who gave him life taught him this. As did the one before her.

This is why Olem, alone and lonely, trodded along the pathway he normally did. The gnarled Oak tree by the ferns and rosary bush, the possum cavern where the small animals hid... he crossed the small lake across a warm strip of natural land.

He thinks about something new, and he thinks back to the time when his mother tried attacking a wild tiger. No man had ever defeated a tiger before... well, before Olem. Olem was upon that Tiger immediately after he saw his mother die, and he snapped it's neck like a twig. He burned the rest of the tiger, and threw dirt at it as it became one with the clouds.

He put his mother in the lake...

This is what made him better then the others. He now wanted to kill all the tigers, for they had killed his mother. HIS mother. OLEM'S MOTHER!

It was this kind of intense fury that boiled within his mind, that popped an image.. Pointed...oddly angular.. it was slate rock, attatched to the end of a slim piece of birchwood. Maybe, if he could... club a tiger in the back, it woul-- no! no! He could... THRUST it! Jab the end into the tiger's eyes.

Caught up now in fantasizing in the many ways he would kill tigers, he now walks along the bridge but there is... something... someone? It grips(tearsbleedstakesrapesmakesberates) him, and his head falls forward, his instincts kicking into overdrive as he see's something. He relaxes, as he know's it as his friend. He did not know why his friend never touched him, or tried to mate... but this was the absurdity of the man in the revine.

This time though... Olem freezes, the hair along his arms rising.

The friend is not alone, and behind him there is the tracing of an outline. Like the moon if it was fractured, straight lines surrouded by
a circle. His eyes open, a reddish flash exploding from the lake, taking water and dirt with it, as Olem covered his face with his arms.

A year later, the sabretooth tiger became extinct.

Arc III: (The Shadow of Eternity.)


Disrupted from sleep, is not something Cyren prefers to be.

Alas, the loud crash against his door and the splintering of wood, wakes him.

Rolling over to the side of his bed, he quickly retrieves his Nickel-plated .45, and his Desert Eagle. Quickly tripping off the safety, he walks out of his room, clad only in his silk boxers. He gets to his living room, and peeks around the corner, seeing a haggard looking man, who seamt familiar.

Brushing off the whisps of tone, he jumps into the living room, aiming his pistols at the man, even as he notices Raziel in the corner of his eye.

"You sons of bitches," Cyren growls, as he looks at the man. "I have half a mind to just shoot you, Raz and get it over with."

The pale, young man laughs slowly, an ominous and eerie bellow. "True, Cyren. You do have only half a mind, and I'm not at all concerned with my safety. You adore me, and better yet, you know it..."


BANG!

Raziel's eyes shoot wide-open, as a few strands of hair fall from his scalp, his fingers instantly crawling upward and inspecting himself for damage. He jumps around,looking at the bullethole in the wall, a centimeter away from his head.


"Meh.. you're right." Cyren acknowledges, as he holsters his weapons, tucking them into the double shoulder-holsters he'd thrown on. Moving over to the couch, he picks up a pair of black jeans, quickly tugging them on.


"You're a psychotic son of a bitch, aren't you?" Raziel implores, looking to the stranger and rolling his eyes, feigning annoyance.

"Stuff it, Raz. We both know it's not exactly clean as a whistle in your noggin either." Cyren replies grittily, pulling out a cigarette.

Raziel is about to retort, when he examines the statement in his mind, and then shrugs his shoulders talking to his friend.

"When a man's right, a man's right..." he says, as he plops himself onto Cyren's plush leather couch.

Cyren glances at the man, who looks strikingly like Raziel.

"Family member?", he inquires.

"Yep."

"No!"

Noticing the conflicting answers, Cyren shrugs his shoulders.

"Good to know you guys have got your shit together..." He says, moving to the stranger extending his hand. "Name's Cyren..."

"Melkiah.", the magician responds. "At your service, Olde one."

Quirking an eyebrow, Cyren reaches to his hair, tugging at a gray strand of hair.

"Well, I had to become senile sometime..."

Melkiah studies the man before him greatly, sensing the immense power and recognizing him immediately. It had been said the two defenders of The Order would travel together in their other-lives, but now it is attested to.

You two... you were the vicious thrall of magick. You plucked what you wanted, took what you took, and did it not without a speck of remorse, because you were as Gods: Unstoppable. Unkillable. Undeniable.Melkiah muses.

"Not old of body, Sire... Olde in soul." Melkiah supplies.

Turning to Raziel, Cyren laughs. "Hanging out with the New-Age crowd, lately?"

"Stop it." The usually fickle man replies, catching Cyren off-guard with his seriousness.

"This man is serious... and he's honest." Raziel stands up, as he talks. "And I'm going to leave now, and let him speak with you. If he tells you something; believe it. If he tells you to do somethnig; do it. He is not an enemy, Cy... this I know. Trust me... trust in my judgement...." He slows his speech down as he nears the door, teetering on escape. "Trust the Order."

He rushes out the door, before Cyren can put forth protest. He turns to Melkiah, and laughs.

"Well, that bastard sure got the hell out of here, real sudden."

"It is of my belief that he wished nothing more, then for me to converse with you. To tell you of the profound powers and truths that I've given him." He speaks cryptically.

"Yes? Such as..." Cyren eyes the man in a new light. He radiates confidence and control. Not a man to be trifled with.

Melkiah stands up, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. It's words are already scrawled. He holds it in his hands.

"Not for I, to reveal. You are not my charge, Raziel is. However, you... you need not a mentor, but a Liasion. Straight to the powers of influence."

"I hope you realize, you sound completely insane." Cyren replies as he tugs at the hem of his pants.

Smiling, Melkiah nods his head.

"Comical, you should mention that...."


Arc IV: (Madness as a Cloak.)


"We're not so unalike, you know...", his raspy voice uttered. "You fight an enemy that always changes, to fit your own glaringly-evolving personality. And I wage an unceasing war against expectation, a trait of humanity that's as sporadic almost as much as it is incorrect." The man snickers in disgust.

Cyren is not amused.

"Spare me the cynical misanthropic bullshit," the red-haired Devil replies. "I practically re-invented it, perfected it, and then deconstructed it. I know the world sucks, it always has. It's a veritable cess pool of cosmic feces realigned into primative form. Sad, but true... so I don't need to hear it from you. Things I know, things I think... that's not what I've been led here for, and I think the both of us know so..."

Quirking an eyebrow, Cyren nods to the man, who still crouches against the encroached padding, a safe and purely reliable source of strength to the man, a person Cyren can't decide who's more insane then mystical. Perhaps madness is a side-effect of divinity.

"Aye, there is a reason, yes....", the the man's voice lilts away, his eyes full of mirth. "However, it's vastly important for me to know something about you, before you learn something from me... " The man's grin is facetious and child-like, terrifying to Cyren for a brief moment, before settling into a quiet sort of absurdity.

Rolling his shoulders a bit, Cyren tries to alleviate some of the tension that slowly builds into his neck. Twisting and contorting his body at a mild pace, he hopes to wring his spine free of some of the painful tremors it is always innudated by. He turns briefly to look at the walls, pastoral and white-washed, devoid of abrasive color. Introspection in a place like this, is promoted as a symptomatic ailment of an illness.

"Admiring the decor? A bit drab, if I may say so...." The madman looks around the room, shaking his head in regal disgust.

Cyren rocks back on his haunches. "Well, it takes some getting used to..." Cyren mentions briefly. "The whole, 'I'm not fit to make rational decisions for myself' label, starts to not really have an effect on you, when you realize all you want out of life is the ability to sleep. Stick around in one of these rooms for about 3 years, it'll lose some of the clamoring uncomfortability. It's the curse of inprisonment, to find what should be a constraint, a support after a long enough time..." His eyes glaze over, as he trails off, lost in thought.

The Liaison glances at the red-haired warrior, in earnest. A cursory look at the man who was the essence of...

"Often, revelation is misconceived as delusion, excellence as deficiency, greatness as meakness... it's a rather ironic hypocrisy of evaluation. Oh, how infinite is the meager capacity of the human spirit?" The man breathes out in a weary tone. Bringing a hand to his eyes, he brushes away lazily a tiredness. Cyren notices.

"Just how long have you been here?" Cyren asks the ruffled man, as he tries to stand up.

"Long enough, to understand that I've out-grown the place. 'Twas a good place to visit, but now I humbily feel the need to submit my resignation as a resident in the land of insanity. I, feel it essential, to return to the land of everyday chaos." He says as he tries to walk, an activity he must not have done recently from his haggard, weak appearence. He stumbles and falls into Cyren, upheld easily by the strong arms.

"Perhaps, you haven't been here long enough. That chaos is more then a vibration, friend. It's a hum, a song of discordance that runs along the vein of the human condition. Positive, that you want to return?" He says, his eyes full of sympathy as he stares the man, as he leans him against the wall.

Breathing heavily, The Liaison smiles, a lop-sided grin that gives away all his tension.

"No, no... you've arrived. That's one of the signs... and I can't simply ignore it. I have a duty to upholde." He says, as he stands upright lazily, and straightens his uniform collar. His head is held high, and his chest barrel-like, as he stands proud.

Cyren doesn't let it go to heap.

"And what, pray tell... is my arrival a sign of?"

The Liaison's eyes close, his breath slowing to minute, barely-there rasps.

"A War."

Cyren raises his eyebrows. "Oh, yes... that's clear. And what exactly does an unknown war have to do with me?"

Gently giggling, the Liaison replies.

"The war is known to all, but only few see it. You, though... are the embodiment of battle-cry. You are Achilles, you are York, you are... the warrior-King for the bleak."

As the man slumps against the wall and innocuously slides down along it's path swiping at an invisible enemy, Cyren shrugs his shoulders.

"It's been said that powerful people attract intriguing companions. Thus, taking into consideration how eccentric you are, I find myself stupendously complimented."


Arc V: (Welcome to Existence.)

"Yes, Sir... positive, Sir.... Okay, Sir.... thank you, Sir." the curt voice replies, as a staticy image transforms itself into a full-picture before our eyes.

"The usual?" A lazy voice, smOldeering in sarcasm interjects.

"His money's just as green as ours..." The young man responds to his co-worker, both men in a shadowy mobile-computer lab hung off the curb of a busy suburban street. The men have nametags, emblazened with the logo of their company, People Peep. The slogan under it, in italics, is chilling: Unseen are those we find, but clearly they exist. We clarify the anomaly.

The shaggy other man, his hair falling against his eyes, as he gently chugs his cigar, shakes his head.

"No, Jake..." the man responds. "His money isn't green, it's crimson. It's f*cking crimson. Blood money, I tell you..."

Shaking his head, Jake waves his friend away, getting to work at producing a human being from scratch, legally. Birth certificate, Driver's license, but in this case... it was complicated. He had to deal with INS, Immigration Services, Passport perfunctory check-ups, regular diagnostic intervals of Interpol, and NSA.

Around the world, within an hour, computer banks received an extra entry, alphabetical lists became reorganized, and a figure began to slowly come forth from the abyss as a jittery hacker pumped up on caffeine and Jack Bean, used his cyber-omnipotence to enact his voodoo.

And yes, within an hour... a hundred miles away, a man became another man. Transformed through legality without litigation.

Arc VI: (The Wonderful Land of Nod.)

"Cain McGrier? You turned me into Cain? Cain...?" the Liaison replied nin a state of shock, as he tugged his shoelaces together, gathering together the articles of clothing he'd had on him with institutionalized. He stands up, clutching the newfound Driver's License in his hand, staring at the cropped photo from his Asylum medical work-up. His D.O.B is manufactured, as his name, but the rest is all perfectly noble.

"You needed a name..." Cyren responds grinning. "So, you have a name. Be happy, I have the connections I do. You're walking out, right now into the world again, because you strike my fancy. You're opposite of boring and tedious, and I find you facsinating. The machinazations of which construct your delusional world are much like how mine were, comprised of phantasmagorical images of evil and good, notions of perceptive ideal. It's interesting, to stare into your emotional mirror... and I am."

How true you are, Olde one. To think, it was millenia ago, that we were but companions of brutality. We struke a swathe against our enemies, defeating whordes of soldiers by ourselves. No thousand soldiers on earth was worth the value of you in battle. Your carnate gift was death. I saw it, flashes of it in the course of human history. The tales of magnificent man, all derived from you. The power, the ability, is still there, but it's confused. Discerning it's former life, is hard. Chaos surrounds you, and Tranquility is fleeting. But by the Gods; if you had Tiernan at your side, you'd be unstoppable. That blade was made of the very oak that held The Order together.

Shaking his head, and patting his jeans for his wallet, he pulls out a strip of paper. He quickly scribbles a thought down, and replaces it back to his wallet. Cyren notices, but says nothing.

"Well..." Cyren utters. "There is someone we have to confront right away. Afterall, I would want to introduce a long-lost cousin to a long-time friend."

Accepting this, The Liaison nods his head.

"So, who is it you want me to see?"

Cyren grins.

"Why, that's a wonderful question. The answer is..." He breaks off and chuckles softly, taking a drag off of his cigarette, as he pulls out a card with Raziel's address on it.


"We're off to see the Wizard."




RE: random BS - C Y R E N - 01-09-2013





Arc I: The blissful tones of Men who Believe they can save the world from a Man like me.






It sometimes feels as if my mind is nothing but a large Victorian home, on a humidly damp summer day. A permeating stench wafts across the air, assaulting the senses. Droll little cracks and imperfections of manufacture are evident, but as a whole... they're sturdy, even after so much time and wear. It's not perfect, and it's certainly not nice... but this bad place, horrible place, a place I'd never ever want to be, it's me.

My confusion, my rage... the route all my actions travel along, is the sum of my memories. Vivid recollections that invade my personal space, creeping up behind and jabbing me in the back with the force of a freight train. They shake you awake at night, in a chilly sheen. Too many people dismiss the effects of acclimating yourself to danger and believe me, in my line of work, there's danger.

Beyond all the obvious, there's something that snaps inside of you, when you're forced to thrill and shill. To bring about all the excitement of a person, and then let that brief euphoria dwindle and shrivel up into dissapointment. I have many names, from many people, with the same meaning. To most though, I am merely... sick. A depraved, emotional and pitiful human monster. Selfishly absorbed inside of his own meager pains to the point where he can't think clearly enough and charitably enough.

This is a seriously grievious error on the part of my peers. Often, I'll glance at someone and try to pick apart their lives, without gleaning anything from their clothing. I steal a look at their eyes, at the way they walk... it's psychological, but it's there. I study mostly faces though, because they tell more then anyone will ever understand. A default face, is the worst. To be blank, to not exhibit any kind of emotion, perturbs me. It's nails on a cheekboard, it's atrocious, it's... unbearable.

It never works though. The cliche, as they often are, applies. People are not their looks, they're not their cars, or their wallets, or their Gucci sandals. They do give it all away though, to me. Can't tell a book by it's cover, yet people often walk around with their stories open, for any random stranger to read. It's always, right there...

If you have a blank face, you're tired, and you want people to know it. Exuberant, Cheery, Crestfallen, Ashen... these aren't normal automatic settings of your face, it's concious. We do it becase... we... are... lonely.

Solitary creatures; we are not.

We are however cyclical, drawing what we do and want from those we know. It's what keeps ouir race intact, but it's a way of thinking, which relies heavily upon the abstract and anomalic to share the burden of progression. Society's outgrowing our ability to free-think, without remorse.

A man tells a woman she's fat. The cycle starts. The woman tells a friend, that she's going on a diet. The cycle gows. The friend of the woman, tells her hairdresser that her friend's going on a wonderful new diet. The cycle grows. The hairdresser tells her husband's sister-in-law at a family together, over roughly textured spaghetti peppered by flaky sauce, about that woman's friend. The cycle grows. The husband, entirely bored by the scenario, remarks in a joking manner to his workmate that his wife is insane and women are vain. The cycle grows. The co-worker tells his wife the joke, she gets offended, and he indirectly tells her she's fat. The Cycle grows.

She starts the diet three days later.

The cycle ends.

People are people and people need to be loved. So, as sophormoic childrenn of the universe, they'll do that, dress this, fuck that, suck there, in order to be appreciated. Because we're lonely beings, and creature

s of habit.

I find no need to hide what is glaringly obvious. I'm lonely... my children are dead. My wife left me.

But I'm still standing. Here, now.. stronger. That's one of the good things, about hardship. It forges a fire. And in me, those flames never were quelled. They've been calmed, they've been hidden, but never extinguished. It's a fire, that connects humanity. The heavily-driven have this fire. They're Kings, they're Presidents, they're Heroes. Then you've got the ones whose memories never fade. Those are Poets, those are Criminals, those are Villains.

A man like me is a villain. A man like, say... Steve Jason, he's a Hero. He's a wonderful, great... powerful, confident hero. Defeats all enemies, kills all foes. And he himself, can not be 'killed.'

However, soon... the unkillables, those great men... those heroes, will fall. Because one of us need to. Life is nothing without the yin or the yang, the bitter and sweet.

And, well... life for some, has just gotten a little too sweet.

It's time for me to no longer silently suffer. Power called me once, and I came as a young cub wanting the ability to change the world. In the end, the world has changed me. Far too much then I'd have liked, but it's made me almost strong enough.

Yet now, something has called me again. It's the elegy of good. It's the death song. The melody that strides side-by-side with destruction.

It's The Black Order.

In another lifetime, I suppose the mystical and magickal entities I've encountered, and the unknown that presents itself to me, might stupidy. But now, in this... moment, I feel an odd kinship to the supernatural.

So, I answered the siren song. I began gaining power, at first by being nominated to represent Team CWF in the 05-05-05. Secondly, by becoming the GENERAL MANAGER of CWF. Then, I was given power freely. A seer, a man known as Melkiah, a man I've encountered through our mutual friend Raziel, pointed me in the direction I needed to be and now am.



Arc II: Ashes of the other Life.

"Council is called to session!"

"Do the men obide?"

"Aye."

"Then we shall proceed."

Rhano stood there for a moment, his gaze hard to gauge, as he took as human a form he could with feeling comfortable. These weak bodies could never contain the warrior tidal wave that he was. He slew his enemies by the thousands.

The Supreme, were a magickal coalition. Their powers were conjured from absence, they themselves were as Gods, creating at whim. However, Rhano was the exception. He had magick's yes, powerful magick's, enough to defend himself against anyone, except those of The Supreme. No, his power, that which made him the most striking of the Supreme, was his vicious and brutal nature. He cut his foes asunder with his blade, Gaelwind.

With his sword abilities, he was, not as a God, he was a God. At the battle of Opentra, his personal guard had been slain by a massive enemy force of 6,000 Serpent guards of the imposter known as T'aara. They cornered himin a lone room of his castle.

Not a one survived.

Rhano was the guardian of The Order, even powerful enough to defend it from within,if the need arose. And it had, throughout time. During the course of his role with The Order, he personally killed 6 Council members, 5 more then anyother soul in the universe could claim. His magick's were natural enough to keep him protected from the sorcerers, just long enough for him to get within their physical range and eviscerate them. He was a pitbull that couldn't be put down.

As the others, he was naturally immortal. He had lived since the beginning, in forms he no longer remembered. He reminsiced sometimes on the things he would do, precognitive visions granted to himof his own future. He saw versions of himself in new vessels, always strong. Always powerful, and always a Leader.

Throught' the ages of man, he was a King. He was thought of as a God. He was a poet, he was a prostitute. He was a murderer, he was a hero. He was a Christian, he was a Pagan. The time of man, he welcomed greatfuly by suppressing his memories, but he knew it would not last forever. His magicks weren't strong enough. So, after merely thousands of years, his spells began to unravel, this he knew would happen.

His comrades within The Order, helped him... and they set-up spies, tutors and associates for his future self to be accompanied by when the time came. His time as a man would be a resting period, for he was weary of the eternal war. He foresaw this man he would become, saw his tragedies and his glory. He smiled, and nodded his head, his eyes dark. He looked at the wall, where a camera reel of the man's life was playing out, as he destroyed men inside a modern-day colleseum. And then he saw the beatings, rapes, and deaths in the man's life. Yes, his soul would be bleak in the next life. An Avatar, he would not be.

"He is a warrior as great as possible within a cautious world."

"What, Sir?"

Turning to his Liutenent, he smiles.

"Remembering tomorrow... just remembering tomorrow."








Arc I: Half-made half-perfect.



Beside me, sits the newly emancipated ward of the State of California, picking at his seatbelt as he glares out the window. He ooh's and awe's as if he hasn't seen anything in ages. I guess maybe, he hasn't. I turn to him, letting the cigarette dangle from my lips.

"Just how long were you in there, specifically?"

He turns to me then, his eyes bluer then any sky I've ever seen, and I have to force myself to keep driving on the road, instead of pulling over, slipping him out to the backseat and fucking him into oblivion.

"Specifically, as in.. well, uhh... ya see..." He trails off, as he scratches at his arm, and motions wildly over his head. "I... not, umm.. well, you know. I know what I know to be true, ya know... most of the times, but-"

"-Most times?" Cyren interupts.

The man looks out the window quickly, agitated. "I'm partly insane, alright? The spell got interupted, slightly, but still... I'm a tad askew, in the stew... you know premordial and spiritually? Just... think of me as mentally premature. So, I've got a little wiring crossed, and often see shit that's not exactly on this plain, and more like fragments of other things overlain atop regular images. It's disturbing to me." He explains.

Cyren raises his eyebrow. "Disturbing? Haven't you always been...?"

"Insane?"

"Well... I was going to say interesting, but yes, insane applies."

"No, no... I was about 20 when the dreams began, as they soon will for you as well. It's all because the spell wasn't as strong it couldn't have been, and the process was interupted."

"Process?"

"It's a tad complicated, Olde one." He explains as he scratches at the window, seeing a pink dog.

"Oh... in that case, don't tell me. I have a migraine as it is."

The Liaison chuckles.

"No... at 20, It began, I'm 29 now, so.. um... 7, 6.. no, wait seven, SevEn! Yes, that's it. Seven years deluxe therapy in the comfortability of a white room with an occasional calming device known as a straight jacket." He says, as he looks at his arms which look to have been chewed on. Teethmark scars run up and down it.

"You seamt pretty motivated to die."

"I was."

"Why?"

"I saw your past." He offers, as he looks the man in the eyes.

The car lolls to astop on the curb. Cyren looks at his mate.

"Ok, it's time for us to cut the bullshit. You magical or do you know of magick? I've seen the guys Raziel's been hanging around with, and I need to know the fucking rundown."

Cain chuckles.

"You wil eventually, but for now all you need to know, is that all of this is of your own doing. This is your... rest, and you're waking up now."

Cyren shakes his head.

"Well, this sure has been a bitch of a dream."

The Liasion laughs.

"They always are, Sire. They always are."