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Darkness in the form of a dim hallway steals XWF viewer commercial lulled eyes. A figure steps out at the opposite end, the shape of a man, with broad shoulders and a slender physique. With his back turned and head out of view, suddenly his arm rises to block another arm. A violent dance of countering and attacking up against each wall, then a shove and stumble... each move inching closer to the steady viewpoint. A block, punch, kick into the wall; an elbow, under-hook, trip to the ugly worn pastel-color carpeted floor. Coming close enough for the fuzziness to focus... a man with a glimmering badge and dark uniform looks down on a man with a clown mask in white with orange hair. He pulls out a gun, and without hesitation unloads a single shot into the head. Explosions begins to go off, narrowing the hallway all around. The limp body goes unanimated and quickly stale. The remaining man in uniform walks up just avoiding his face being seen... then rubs black grease all over the lens.
☆
Just read it.
Gabe Reno sits in an office across the desk from a man with literally no expression on his face. Sporting a baseball cap with gray tether pull-up blinds behind him, The Radical smiles as if waiting for approval. The other man looks down at a bounded ream of paper, then back up at Reno who nods with enthusiasm.
It's good, right?
The man adjusts his glasses and begins reading.
[[ With blatant disregard, our hero, 'The Radical'... lives a life of not giving even one single fuck. Some call this reckless, others may see it as revolutionary, and still some see it as weakness from an uncaring, unforgiving, piece of XWF shit. Maybe they all have a point. Or none of them do. Truth is in perception, but no matter the viewpoint... that one uncaring attribute never changes. AND IT NEVER WILL. SO SAVE IT FOR THE STAGE. SAVE IT FOR THE RING. SAVE IT. Because Radicality only exists, for those who choose leave nothing behind. ]]
The man pauses, lifting his head to take a sip of water. Waiting for the feedback, Gabe interjects with his own view of the work.
I wanted to get not just my own perspective, but also those from the other spectrum... I call it, The Radical Memoirs. Catchy, right?
The man clears his throat without tipping a response one way or another, then turns the page and continues reading.
[[ XWF fans file through the turnstile, arms eager for the blood and Xtreme matches that other organizations have done away with in recent years. Afraid of what critics might say, who could be injured, the lawsuits, and the questions that might have to be answered in a brutal aftermath... these organizations have lost their way. The same thing that earned them a place on the Professional Wrestling map... gone, forever, maybe. The Xtreme Wrestling Federation prides itself now on the same core values it has always held true; when all others change guard, this constant remains like a Medal pinned to its chest. One of violence... mayhem... stories... characters... and how they all intertwine in the sweet grotesque majesty that is Xtreme. Another such match has been booked. Fans open their programs, and just beneath the blood splatter under the logo; see a fresh set of opponents ready to add another chapter to the vindictive relentless continuing revolution. Wednesday Night Warfare. The very name induces memories of screams, vicious maneuvers, and pain too enormous to gauge with one gulp. The saliva may leave their mouths in anticipation. They may chant with cold beverages, and the latest licensed merchandise as a prop in their hands for this costly one night endeavor; but as those eyes scroll down the card... and the Number One Contender's Match, Xtreme Rules, for a whisper at the Xtreme Championship illuminates their fandom: the names Thaddeus Duke and 'The Radical' Gabe Reno will make them yearn. Every fist clinching their drink a little tighter, every eye open just a little wider, every moment unwilling to let escape the epic carousel of excellence between two heroic fighters. ]]
I tried to put in some current stuff, so it is ongoing, never ending; you know, like my match with Duke, or my obsession with calling people Bitches. I know Duke is one of the worst opponents I have even faced in XWF, I mean the guy is in such a slump that he uses one liners and different variations of the word "radical" to try and make himself relevant again. Maybe by stealing my thunder he imagines a rebirth... maybe as his own son... or someone... less... pathetic... but I like opening the entire Radical book, no matter how bland or sad, all pieces of the whole picture.
The man looks up finally, then intertwines his fingers on the desk as if trying to find certain words.
So? What do you think? I mean it may not be Pulitzer worthy, but it is at least original, right?
Well, Mr.Reno... no. I mean you are descriptive, you talk a fairly... large... amount. But, no. People, publishers, they want things that sell. As cliche as it may be, there is no true excitement in talking about life circumstances, even as a celebrity, unless it has... it. It being the ingredient that makes you want to turn to the next page, or, ya know, stay awake. It's like an engine, you can have great parts, but without oil, it all stops up and never reaches its potential. Add more of that, it... then maybe you could have an average autobiography. Unless your life drastically becomes a series of bank robberies or something... ha... I don't see the pull to the audience to buy your book over many others that are, frankly, far more interesting.
Gabe looks offended at first, then dips his face. He sits for a moment... then, an idea bubble bursts above his head.
You're right, it needs to be box office, water-cooler talk, fucking unmissable...
Right. It needs to be... exciting.
The unexciting man breaks a small grin, then hands Reno back his work. Reno gets up, walks to the door, turning back determined.
That was a great idea, ya know?
What idea?
He looks up puzzled, but Gabe is already gone. The man shruggs his shoulders, and opens a book he had sitting on the desk, removing the cover... he starts reading then laughs. The book cover on the table reads "War and Peace" but the hardback cover says "The Duke's: Aren't They All The Same".
☆
The Thaddeus Plan | Black Grease || Gabe Reno stands in the center of men wearing yellow jumpsuits. He paces back and forth for a moment, stopping at each man, and looking them in the face with reassurance, then moving onto the next. Holding up a Duke-like scepter, he gets their undivided attention. Looking on, they all take a deep gasp, as a beam from the scepter projects a map onto the ground below. Gabe begins to discuss the projection, and how each plays a part. Each agreeing to their role, eventually they come to the center, all touching the scepter.
This is our right, and our duty, the price may be steep, but it is the price of our legacy... which no one can ever remove, after this night.
They grab hands together then break. The men pull white clown masks out of their individual matching black bags attached by a shoulder harness.
FUCK DUKE'S, LET'S BE FUCKIN' KINGS!
Christmas Eve | 20 Minutes Until Closing || A cut to business as usual inside a high end bank in the city. The teller's smile at customers, banker's type gleefully away ready to be off for the holiday in no time. Manager's start counting early, trying to get out as soon as possible. Gabe Reno smirks, coming to the front of the line with a deposit. The clear glass doors stand unmanned, as the guard is letting his flirtations with the bank greeter get the best of him. Gabe winks at the teller, and glances over his shoulder at the break in security. He shoots a text on his phone, and steps a side for the next person in line. Seen through the door, three black vans pull up. The doors open simultaneously. Out pop several armed clowns. A look back to Reno, now masked with gloves after grounding the unsuspecting guard with piano wire to the throat. He removes the keys from the guard, as the clowns file in amongst screams from those patrons who have realized the scenario at hand. The bank manager runs around with his hands in the air, one of the clowns greets him with a front kick to the chest propelling him through a glass wall. Reno locks the doors with the guard's keys once the men are inside. A clown hands him a shotgun, he cocks it and jumps up on a banker's desk. OOOOOOOOOOOKAYYY! FIRST OF ALL, MERRY CHRISTMAS FOLKS! WE ARE HERE FROM THE MAKE OUR OWN FUCKING WISHES COME TRUE FOUNDATION. WE WILL BE IN AND OUT IN A JIFFY... NO ONE MOVE, AND YOU WILL LIVE... NO ONE ALERT ANY BUTTONS, OR USE ANY DEVICES YOU MAY HAVE TO NOTIFY OR LET ANYONE AT ALL KNOW WE ARE HERE... AND YOU WILL LIVE. HOWEVER... FOR THOSE WHO TAKE THEIR JOBS MORE SERIOUSLY THAN THEIR LIVES... FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO WANT A DEATH CERTIFICATE UNDER THE FUCKING FAMILY TREE... GO AHEAD, MOVE... GO AHEAD, NOTIFY SOMEONE, AND WHILE YOU'RE AT IT, MAKES SURE TO ADD A GOODBYE. BITCH.
Main Entrance | 10 Minutes Until Closing || A clown drags the bank manager to the back and begins audibly beating him to a bloody pulp for not cooperating fully. The people all around on the ground with backs against the counters and walls gasp at each hit and groan that echoes into the main entrance. Gabe pulls from his back pocket a black object; he starts a stop watch, then sticks it to the front glass doors. Two clowns walk around intimidating people, and taking their phones. Three more have made their way behind the glass enclosure where the tellers stand, tossing money into the air, and pulling out small packaging from their black bags, placing them all around the building. A guy on the ground begins to whisper towards another man, seeing that he has a gun poking out of his shirt. He lets the man know he has a gun too... but the man shakes his head furiously as to say no. The first man asks for back up and reaches slowly toward his waistband; just as a clown steps on his head, and fills his back with .45 caliber holes. Clowns pull his body into another room, but the people moan and cry, the trail of blood seeping further out as they move to avoid getting wet. Gabe walks up to the man he had been talking to and holds out his hand. The remaining man who didn't want to contribute pulls his gun out tentatively, and hands it to Reno. Gabe turns it, smashing the man's nose, then holds up his finger in a "bad" wagging gesture.
ANYBODY ELSE HAVE A WEAPON, OR SOMETHING WE SHOULD KNOW ABOUT... GIVE IT UP WILLINGLY AND NO HARM WILL COME TO YOU... IF YOU DON'T... WELL...
Main Entrance | 5 Minutes Until Closing || Gabe looks at the pool of blood, then smirks and looks up with his arms out nonchalantly. One of the clowns in the back calls out to Reno, he tosses the shotgun to an overly aggressive clown, and jogs back to see what the issue is. Gabe rounds a corner. A blinking red light under the counter catches their attention. They look at each other for a moment: shots are heard from the main entrance; running out, fearing the blinking light may already have authorities at the doorstep, they instead see the aggressive clown playing eeny meeny miny moe and picking people out to murder. Gabe runs over, takes the shotgun back, removes the clown's mask for all to see.
YOU'RE ONE OF THEM NOW...
Main Entrance | 2 Minutes after blinking || He shoves the man who trips over the bodies of those he just massacred, now unarmed. Gabe uses a zip tie to secure him to the front door, where police cruisers are sliding by, finding positions in a hurry. Reno walks to the back room as a clown exits the office with all the security video camera's and reel feeds torn to pieces behind him. Five clowns walk up to Gabe from behind, all shaking their heads as if they did not find their objective. He slams his hand on the counter, then grabs the bloodied bank manager, pinning him to a wall.
LISTEN TO ME, FOCUS. FOCUS!
Outside the Vault | 7 Minutes after blinking || Slapping his face to conjure a response from the disoriented manager, Reno notices a key card in his breast pocket, and pulls it out. He throws it to one of the clowns, who then exits in search of something.
I PROMISE YOU, YOU WILL WALK OUT OF HERE NO MORE INJURED THAN YOU ALREADY ARE... IF YOU CAN TELL ME... HOW TO GAIN ACCESS TO ONE PARTICULAR SAFE DEPOSIT BOX. NOW, IT WOULD NOT BE KEPT WITH THE OTHERS, BECAUSE, WELL, WE LOOKED... AND THIS IS ONE OF YOUR LONGEST TENURED AND WEALTHIEST CLIENTS... WHERE ARE THE SPECIAL BOXES? I'LL GIVE YOU UNTIL THE COUNT OF TWO, I'D SAY THREE, BUT I'M A LITTLE SHORT FOR TIME... YOU UNDERSTAND, DONNNNNNN'T YOUUUU?
Outside the Vault | 11 Minutes after blinking || One of the clowns puts a revolver to the manager's head. Gabe holds up one finger in front of his face, just as the second is about to come, the manager points to the ceiling. He pulls out a special key ring, with a gold and emerald skeleton key on the end, and hands it to Gabe.
Danke! Special Client Room | 14 Minutes after blinking || Gabe looks around, and finds a door leading to a hidden stairwell around the corner. Using the key, he opens it and begins ascending with two clowns behind him, who each place a black timer on either wall. They reach the top. Reno inserts the key, the lock takes it and begins making gearing mechanical sounds, before an air release nearly knocks the three over. The door rises straight up, revealing a small steel room with three massive safe deposit boxes on the wall. Gabe turns and kicks one of the clowns into the other causing both to plummet down the stairs and back out to the floor. He runs down, and closes the first door. Walking back up slowly, shots can be heard ringing out, and the sound of police commanding the clowns to drop weapons, then the sound of them firing automatic weapons.
Finally... the key to all that was mine, and will be again.
Special Client Room | 16 Minutes after blinking || Gabe looks at the front of each box, and each has a different large shaped unique key insert. He removes his black bag from his shoulder harness, and pulls out the scepter from his speech to the clowns. The jewel that had shown the map projections begins to glow bright. He holds it up to the first box, it dims for a split second; holds it up to the second, another dim; holds it up to the third and it gets brighter. He centers the orb of light where the insert is, and the orb escapes into the box. The room begins to shake, Gabe pulls a uniform with a glimmering badge out of his bag from just under where the scepter had been. He quickly changes as the walls around him begin to crumble. The box finally pops open. Gabe adjusts his uniform in the steel reflection, then carefully reaches into the box, pulling out an item. He quickly turns, and runs back down the stairs, opens the door, and bolts out just behind a few swat team officers, beating one of his clowns senseless. Gabe walks toward the back, but one of the clowns recognizes him and realizes they have all been sold out for his escape. Reno turns, the clown running up to him down a dark hallway in the back of the bank as shots continue to ring out all over.
Hey, it's me and you now, we can't help any of them... but I found it... I can make sure we both...
Back hallway | 20 Minutes | Charges around the bank blow || A block, punch, kick into the wall; an elbow, under-hook, trip to the ugly worn pastel-color carpeted floor. Coming close enough for the fuzziness to focus... Gabe Reno with a glimmering badge and dark uniform looks down on a man with a clown mask in white with orange hair. He pulls out a gun, and without hesitation unloads a single shot into the head. Explosions go off, narrowing the hallway all around as thick black grease like oil begins to fill the floor from whatever the explosions had in them. The limp body goes unanimated and quickly stale. The Radical walks up just avoiding his face being seen... then rubs black grease all over the lens.
☆
The music hits... "Am I Savage" by Metallica begins to play, and down the XWF ramp walks 'The Radical' Gabe Reno. The house show announcers look confused to see the un-booked Reno, and turn to Mike Stump who happened to be training his XWF announcing protégés at the event to grab a headset. A tag match in the ring is already underway; Reno slides in and begins clearing house with an agenda. Some fans hold up Nixon signs, other Chaos, trying to remind "the new enigma" of XWF of his recent run of less than stellar performances. Reno, serious faced, Death Drops one competitor, then clotheslines another over the top rope. Another man spring boards into a snap slam, and the final man just gets out and walks away to help his fallen partner. Gabe walks back and forth listening to the various chants throughout the XWF Universe, a ring hand tosses up a microphone.
Well, ladies and gents, it appears that Gabe Reno has entered the arena, and already I urge you to fasten those seatbelts. Reno recently lost to Chris Chaos for the right to have a shot at the Universal Championship that Chaos now holds, and Thomas Nixon kept his Television Title last week in a match on Savage by count out against Reno. Surely this should be a fresh take. Also... apparently a bank was robb...
Ya know... while writing my memoirs recently, I had a revelation. People keep saying oh you let the Chaos distraction take your mind off Wild Card, off of Thomas Nixon when the Television Championship was right there for the taking! How COULD YOU, RADICAL!? Well, normally we all know I would say shut it, and move on accordingly... good, bad, or indifferent. However, my revelation was so profound, so incredibly mind-bending, game changing... that I could not simply whisk all the voices away. Enter Thaddeus Duke... as yes, the great Duke from a Duke, to a Duke, who puts up his dukes, and looks like dookie laced in gold for some grandeur purpose. Maybe, Thad, your purpose is... greater. Just maybe, you have something... a secret that no one knows about, that you kept in a very safe place... for decades, even. Maybe, you were just waiting for the right time to use it... or maybe your family never told you about it at all...
The fans begins saying "SA-BASSSS-TIANN" repeatedly, as Reno smiles.
Gabe seems to be very sure of himself out there, we haven't seen him this confident since the last time he had a shot at the X-Treme Championship, which his match at Warfare with Duke is for the contendership of.
I took a little trip, Thaddeus. Luckily for me I know a few guys who are less than "official". They hooked me up with a group of dangerous, homophobic, really grimy pieces of shit. I mean, these guys make Charles Manson's skin crawl. So I hired them. For what... you might ask? For the delightful pleasure of their conversation? For the company and countless stories about rape, theft, and pathetic upbringings? No... see even an engine with all the best parts can't run... without oil. And that oil, that black grease has been running low my last few matches... I found it. The moves are there, the determination, the want... but my revelation in finally listening to the clamoring voices, brought me to this: these men are from Old Saybrook, Connecticut. Ring a bell? See, I never had the chance outside of XWF home video to see the great Sabastian Duke wrestle in our little temple. But, like anything else in life, guys in the back talk... in the sauna, the training room, on the massage table. And I went all out, I did it all, played a masseuse, an athletic trainer, all with facial prosthetics to hide my identity that cost more than a few churros, if you know what I mean. What was the point, you ask? Information. I gathered the intel, then I hired the local scum guns.
Reno seems to really be agitated here, Sabastian Duke is from that town in Connecticut, but what is he trying to get at here?
Reno pulls the camera up to his face intensely.
I GOT IT, THADDEUS. The reason you've been sliding down the ranks, I took what powered your ability, from your dead ole dad's safe deposit box. WHY!? BECAUSE I AM NOT LOSING ANOTHER FUCKING MATCH TO YOUUUU, OR ANYBODDDYY! I let my guard down, but ohhh no. Never again. I will make you suffer the beating that I should've laid on Chaos, AND STILL WILL. The beating I nearly laid on Thomas Nixon, AND STILL WILL. Because I have what makes the Duke's go... AND I AM THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS WHERE IT IS! Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, Warfare will come as a welcome reprieve, and just like your daddy, you'll have a new master to pull on your leash.
Strong words from 'The Radical", what could he have taken from the Duke safe deposit box in Connecticut?
Reno rolls out of the ring and grins all the way up the ramp.
☆
Who IS IT?!
Persistent loud knocks fill the air. A man shuffles to the door in the middle of the night and looks through the peephole. He sighs, then opens the door.
Mr.Reno, is this some kind of emergency, I told you, the book is okay, we can work on it, I'll hook you up with some people who can help... but you can't just come to my home at this hour and...
Gabe holds a finger over his lips as if to say "shush" to the publisher. He clicks on the television, as coverage of the robbery in Old Saybrook is on the news, running the immense amount of civilian and criminal casualties. The publisher puts his hands over his mouth and slowly sits on the edge of a chair. He looks up at Reno, scared of what has happened and what could happen next. Gabe's eyes light up like a child on Christmas, he bends over and pulls out a small baggy with black grease inside moving around animated, as if alive. The Publisher reaches for the phone, but Reno stops him mid-stride.
![[Image: 4H375RW.png?6]](http://i.imgur.com/4H375RW.png?6)
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