Heaven and Hell - Printable Version +- X-treme Wrestling Federation (https://xwf99.com) +-- Forum:  RP Archive (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=113) +--- Forum: Archives (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=13) +---- Forum: Relentless Night Three 2023 RP Board (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=208) +---- Thread: Heaven and Hell (/showthread.php?tid=46891)

Heaven and Hell - Prof. Bobby Bourbon - 09-19-2023 With deft maneuvering, Bobby Bourbon courses through the skies in a retro biplane. Performing stunts such as the barrel roll, the aileron roll, and even a complete loop. Bobby, and definitely not a stunt pilot in the wide shot, is piloting his craft. On the horizon, Bobby sees what he’s looking for. A dragon! It soars in the sky, breathing fire, it’s a fucking dragon! DRAGONS ARE FUCKING COOL! Bobby flies and crashes his plane right into the giant dragon, slaying it, and blowing the fuck up in the process. On the ground, we see Genevieve Tote. Okay, Mr. Bourbon. Your stock is up to fifteen whole cents! Bobby finds himself at a large pearly gate. Saint Peter stands, arms folded across his chest. You. What? You had to go and slay that dragon after stepping in and standing up for Ned, huh? It seemed cool to do, so, yeah. Well, welcome to heaven! Bobby looks around. Nope. No, no, no, big mistake, pal. I just committed suicide. Bobby, you sacrificed yourself to destroy a monster! Yeah, but, I need to be in hell! That’s where my match is! Don’t be ridiculous, Bobby! C’mon in! Bobby snorts and tromps in through the gates of heaven. Dammit. Bobby looks around. There’s a big mascot version of Jesus, and one of Buddha, and those other guys you know about from all the religions too. It’s pretty much a theme park but there’s no lines but the ride is always full. Go figure. Bobby continues his plod forward, through the entrance to the deeper areas of paradise. He comes to a perfect sandy beach with clear blue water as far as the eye can see, and of course, a hover surfboard. Bobby hops onto the surfboard as though he was born for it. He flies around like the Silver Surfer, going up and up and up. He passes by tons of people in balloons, in planes, sailing around with row boats, and just flat out flying, some with wings, some like Superman. The first moments in heaven are a rush, to be sure. Eventually, though, things settle. Bobby finds himself in a bustling city. It’s utopian to the utmost, with no want or worry anywhere. It’s here he finds the goth club. Of course there’s a goth club in heaven. Crucified is bumping, or as bumping as goth clubs get. How one bumps the Cure is beyond me. The Cure sure is playing as Bobby walks in, and up to a VIP table, where none other than Jesus Christ, All God, all Bourbon-man, is enjoying table service with some associates. Oh, hey Bobby. Meet Abe Lincoln, Jerry Garcia, Santa Claus, and Ernest Hemmingway. Bobby rubs his clean shaven chin. Beardos! I love it! The table all grunt in agreement, heaven’s beard club holding their quarterly meeting. Hey, look, there was a mix-up, I need you to fix it, buddy. Be those footprints in the sand for me man. What is it, Bobby? Is it about TK not being allowed in heaven? Fine, he’s allowed now. No, I’m supposed to be in hell too, I have a match! Bobby, I can get you a match with whoever you want up here bud! Think about it, you could fight Hemingway. Neat. Hemingway sneers at Bobby. Lincoln was a heavyweight champion! Lincoln snarls. Well then let’s do this! Hemingway steps up from the booth, knocking back his appletini as he does. He leaps at Bobby, putting him in a bear hug. Bobby looks quizzically at Hemingway. Dude, I’m like twice your size. Bobby goes to push Hemingway away, but in comes Lincoln! Lincoln sets in a headlock on Bobby, and Hemingway squeezes with all his might! Bobby slings Lincoln to the ground! He powers out of the Hemingway Hug! Bobby with a headbutt to Hemingway! Bobby scoops Hemingway and drops him with a body slam! Lincoln is up, and he runs at Bobby! Bobby counters with a hip toss! Hemingway is back up and Bobby grabs him by the neck! EMC from Bobby to Hemingway! Lincoln in with a leaping leg lariat, flooring Bobby! Four score and seven years ago, I put the beat down on your goofy ass! Whatever, I’m going to emancipate your head from your neck! Following the Lincoln Leg Lariat, Hemingway and Lincoln each grab one of Bobby’s legs, and they wishbone him! Bobby grabs his pelvis, and Hemingway and Lincoln pose for the fans. Nobody in the club is paying any attention, they’re literally doing wrestling taunts for their own sake. Both men bring Bobby to his feet, but Bobby gets a sudden burst of energy! He throws a huge right to Hemingway! Lincoln swings at Bobby! Bobby ducks, and grabs Lincoln! Spinebuster to Lincoln! Hemingway steps in, and it’s a spinebuster for Hemingway too! Lincoln is slow to his feet, staggered, and he walks into a spinebuster from Bobby! Bobby lifts Hemingway up, and pops him up for a huge pop-up spinebuster! Jerry Garcia looks SUPER out of place in a goth club. He gets up and rushes at Bobby. Spinebuster to Jerry Garcia! Santa has a delivery for Bobby, because he’s been nice! Bobby catches Santa, spinebuster city up in Crucified goth club! Jesus stands up and applauds. Well done, seraphim, see? You don’t need hell anymore. I think I want to go to hell and whoop D’Ville’s ass. Who needs heaven, I got shit to do. Bobby, I think you need to have a Come to Me moment. You died, gloriously, you’ve had a legacy that will last forever, and now you get to reap in the rewards! It’s like you have a punch card for Subway and every day is the tenth punch, man! We got it great, you want you, you got it, and we do it great! Oh come on, man. Really, we’re doing this. Jesus nods. Oh yeah. It’s Relentless, your promo is getting an existential crisis. Dammit. Cliche but, I guess I gotta roll with it. So, you mean, I can have eternal bliss and peace of mind if I just stay dead? Yep. Total contentment. Well, I wouldn’t be totally content if I didn’t beat Doc. Well, okay, except that. So we’re bargaining here? That’s not an existential crisis, I’m still as of singular purpose as I’ve ever been, to absolutely wreck the motherfucker lined up against me in the ring, and right now there’s someone lined up and in my sights and about to get pancaked out there in the ring in hell, mind you. Not here. Not in heaven. Jesus looks confused. You bastards are a stubborn bunch. The best. Jesus furrows his brow. That’s not what I said. I know, I did. Bobby smirks. You drop this petty thing with TK saying he can’t be forgiven, either. He didn’t betray his team, he betrayed himself by taking a wad of cash. Yeah, but he has a match in hell, against Corey. I want to see that. Bobby’s smirk drops. Seriously, man? I need to be there. Yeah, well, alright. I condemn thee. Jesus waves his hand. As he does, Bobby gives a thumbs up. Good man. Right. A hole opens below Bobby Bourbon and he drops, plummeting until he lands hard on solid rock. Molten lava flows past, and Bobby stands, dusting himself off. He looks around, and Charlie Nickles approaches. Bobby! Bobby looks at Charlie. Oh, damn, you’re going to be at Relentless? Nope. I fell asleep at the wheel after I ate a dozen Benadryl and pooped my pants! Fuck! It happens. Right, well, let’s rendezvous with TK and get the B.O.Ball rolling. Another Charlie Nickles approaches Bobby. BOBBAY! Bobby looks back at Charlie, and then at the second Charlie. Realizing what’s going on, he rolls his eyes. Dammit. Another five Charlies walk up. One does that thing Charlie does where he somehow enunciates every single vowel in a random string before speaking. Yes, even sometimes Y. They then do a harmony, each rising in scale as a quintet. BOBBY! BOBBY! BOBBY! BOBBY! BOBBY! How many of you are there? Thirteen more Charlies walk out from around a stalactite. I died eating a balloon I found on the ground. I thought it was full of heroin. I died from accidentally electrocuting myself cooking with a hotplate in the bathtub. I died from eating balloons too. I didn’t think there was heroin in them. Carbon Monoxide, the silent killer got me. Bobby looks on as the endless hordes of an exponential value of Charlies, knowing he won't do the math. They continue to approach him, just to talk for a bit. They all enunciate all their vowels again out of nowhere in excitement. Bobby shakes his head ‘no’. Oh, come on, I gotta beat my personal hell right now. Wait, did Jesus call me a seraphim? Bobby sprouts a pair of feathery wings, and his archangelic body armor comes to form around him. The Defiant Archangel of the Bastardly Father ascends above the sea of Charlies. Shit, Bobby’s a fucking archangel! Fuck yeah, Bobby, you have wings! I think that’s so fucking tight! Bobby takes off, soaring with the grace of an eagle in some direction. As he does, it begins its descent downward towards Bobby. Massive, and dark, a sickly green ichor oozing from it’s fanged maw beneath six glowing green eyes, the demonic entity chases Bobby. It howls, something disgusting and wracked with the phlegm causing the ichor, spewing the muck as it does. Bobby turns, and changes course, ascending and allowing the creature to hurtle past him. It is much slower to course correct, and Bobby flies headlong into the creature himself, knowing that he is ever the predator, never the prey in any situation. Bobby throws an arm into one of the thing’s eye sockets. It wails in agony, plummeting towards the ground as it writhes, Bobby’s hand giving it more than a lobotomy, its brain being completely turned to pulp. It lands with a crash and twitches, its nervous system no longer cohesive. Bobby pulls his hand out, and shakes it. That’s disgusting. Another demon approaches. Alright, asshole, you had your fun. I’ll have you know that demon was a damned good man and you just left a family without a father. What? Really? Nah. It was just a monster that we keep around here, but some people liked it. I didn’t. Anyway, aren’t you one of those XWF guys? Weird, a bunch of you have been down here lately. I’m Darren. Darren Dangerous. Bobby snickers. Really? Not that one. Okay. Well, I’m supposed to be the liaison getting you guys to where you’re not falling into your own personal hells and whatnot, but some of you got here way ahead of schedule. I’m pretty sure your bosses arranged a bus meetup to get to the show. Oh. A bus. Man, that sounds fun. Yeah, yeah I’m sure it’ll be a good time, but I take it you have your own means of getting in and out of hell? Bobby points to the wings. Well, uh, I’m an archangel, so.. What? Nobody cleared us about one of you from the other side! Usually you religious nuts don’t last long in wrestling anyways. Look, buddy, I didn’t know until about fifteen minutes ago when an army of Charlies showed up, and I’m not religious. You called yourself the Defiant Archangel. No, I didn’t. Maybe somebody else did, but I didn’t. Darren checks his notes. Whatever. Well, come along, the arena is this way, we don’t want you confronting your own worst punishments, which seems to be adoration, weirdo, or killing any more of our elder demons. Seriously, that guy was pre-Big Bang, and you just reached in and undid it’s whole entire brain. Yeesh. Um.. Darren rolls his eyes. You want to go kick Hitler in the dick? Yes. There’s a line. Dammit. Yeah, let’s go. The arena set up in hell is massive. Suffering souls, condemned for their wicked ways on earth, are chained up and set as tables and chairs, creatures, monstrosities, and those with the best travel agents on earth take delight in the festive nature of Relentless Week in the XWF. Darren leads Bobby into the carnival-like happenings. The fans in attendance all notice Bobby, who is in head to toe white with angel wings now. They rush him. A few succubi approach Bobby looking for an autograph. Bobby signs their boobs with a sharpie. Imps, ogres, creatures and monstrosity alike all are agog at the sight of Bobby, and he’s signing things left and right. He then notices a nearby funnel cake stand, as we all do, by the smell. Bobby flies up gently and stands on top of the funnel cake stand. Hellions, what is going on? The denizens of hell all echo a sentiment of excitement. My name is.. The populace of hell all echo his name. "BOBBY MOTHERFUCKING BOURBON!" Bobby pauses, taken aback. The raucous XWF faithful crowd, nay, the biggest collection of wrestling fans imaginable is on hand for Relentless, THE event of events in all of wrestling. They knew his lines better than he did at this point. Woah, you guys know my lines better than I do at this point! The crowd laughs. They then begin to chant. *FUCK ‘EM UP, BOBBY, FUCK ‘EM UP!*CLAP CLAP*FUCK ‘EM UP, BOBBY, FUCK ‘EM UP!*CLAP CLAP*FUCK ‘EM UP, BOBBY, FUCK ‘EM UP!*CLAP CLAP* Bobby waves his hands up and down, vibing with the chant. With all of you here I don’t even have to cut a promo! The crowd roars. It actually overtakes the pained moans of the condemned for a moment. But cut a promo I will, right here, for all of you! Bobby then performs the exact same task every XWF star is pretty much performing prior to their match. It’s been a long way to Hell, for sure. I have spun the tapestry that is the XWF along the way, making my mark here and there, sometimes the highlight, sometimes the lowlight, but always in the fucking spotlight. But that’s okay. Because even with these wings, I am a bastard, and a bastard doesn’t have to have a perfect record. A bastard doesn’t have to be flawless. A bastard doesn’t have to falsely stand against such allegations. Brothers and sisters! The day of the Bastard is nigh! And Louis is going to learn the core principles of the group he wishes he could ride with. Thou shalt not fuck with a Bastard. Thou shalt not piss a Bastard off. Thou shalt not beat a Bastard. Because I am the Defiant Archangel of the Bastardly Father, the self-righteous prick coming to absolutely punish and demolish any who sin against the Bastardly Father, and my wrath is at hand and by the will of the Bastardly Father. I am the Big Bad, Big Bad, of Big Bads! The Warfare Wrecker, Sultan of Smacktalk, and set before me, because I fucking wanted it, is a man, a ladder, and destiny. That ladder, I tell you, it sucks. No matter who you are, no matter how hard you try, you will fall from that ladder. You will find yourself down, at the bottom, and without any grip on it whatsoever. As often as I have fallen, who has risen further than I have? Bobby shakes his head ‘no’. Don’t even try to say another name, you’d be fooling yourself. Then, there’s the man. Louis. I warn you, my friend. Don’t view this as a walk in the park, lest it become the mugging it shall be without your preparation. Don’t be dismissive of what is about to happen to your body and the beating I bring. You will not survive if you do. Show us your smile, have a few laughs, that cavalier attitude shoved to the front. But the pulse, Louis. That beating in the recesses of your chest that sounds like war drums turning into an executioner’s. Then, that of course, leaves one thing. Destiny. What all of this all means, from heaven to hell itself, and everything in between, what is my purpose, my place, or beyond? Once I’ve used that briefcase as bait to get you where I wanted you, I move on and become a three time Universal Champion, dominating wrestling as it’s greatest champion, destroying any who come into the ring, and my conquest continues onward as I take the top championships of company after company, as is the will of the Bastardly Father to conquer. So, as such, as I am only left to surmise.. What I do in the ring I’ve done before so it shouldn’t be a surprise. I’ve been the subject of backlash and public outcries. I’m straight up bad for your health like nacho cheese on your fries. That big guy who shows up and he’s stealing shows. Win or lose you can bet his stock only grows. You wonder how I got here? Well, that sounds like it blows. How’d you miss me coming, hot damn, nobody knows! The ball’s always been in your court, so what’re you gonna do? Besides disappointing your whole War Games crew? I’ve got a beating to bring to an old man named Lou. And I’ll beat him so bad, they’ll start calling him Dr. Who.