A Cold Blooded Leap - Printable Version +- X-treme Wrestling Federation (https://xwf99.com) +-- Forum:   (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=113) +--- Forum: Archives (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=13) +---- Forum: Leap Of Faith 2024 RP Board (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=214) +---- Thread: A Cold Blooded Leap (/showthread.php?tid=47829)

A Cold Blooded Leap - Dolly Waters - 07-19-2024 In an era where pretentious and flowery wrestling sagas abound, cluttering the XWF with clichéd romances and banal individualism, one story stands out. It's audacious and abrupt, taking us on a thrilling journey through the wrestling world and defying industry norms. This is not just a story about the sport itself but a gripping quest to conquer it, culminating on July 21st in Vatican City when Misty Waters lays siege to the XWF by the grace of the one true Lord. He’s fer’saken me… It's been a long time coming, and now only a few sunsets away. To get there, we must first dive deeper into this exhilarating tale of true blue American success, patriotism, and picking oneself up by the bootstraps. Becoming obnoxiously wealthy and powerful, with the opportunity to weaponize a religious spectacle, is the American dream after all. Leap of Faith on PPV is closing in, and Misty, after all her grinding, the blood, the sweat, the tears, the battling, and the sacrifices of exploiting others for her own means, is just one final battle away from seeing the dream through. ... it’s over. Misty gazes down at her shaking palms, the open hands of her granddaughter Dolly, the body she’s stolen fair and square. Misty has fought so hard for this all her life. With her inherited bourbon riches at her disposal, she’s stolen more, maneuvered, and murdered her way into power. She is the American Dream incarnate. But now, it seems, the forces of evil have abandoned her providential quest, threatening to wrest from her a lifetime's work of deceit, mania, and terror. We can’t let it end this way. Misty turns her head up, revealing she’s standing in the warehouse in Louisville, the godforsaken and blood-stained Think Tank her granddaughter Dolly founded, The SEERS. Beside her is the centerpiece of this warehouse, the machine the Think Tank is named for, with two of its remaining engineers distraughtly tinkering away at the machine’s mainframe. The last time we saw Misty, she revealed her long-time plot of seizing control of Dolly’s forgotten Think Tank. She secretly influenced a schismatic faction of Indian immigrants who’ve been working there since 2019, aiding them in developing this magnum opus of their data engineering. The Synthetic Embodiment and Enhanced Realization System, or The SEERS, is a machine capable of synthesizing fully formed humans from artificial intelligence. With this power, Misty now stood on the precipice of realizing the American Dream, in all of its gilded tyranny. She could craft “humans' ' worthy enough of sacrifice to the dark lords, granting her an unlimited stream of power, enough to maintain her possession of Dolly, and carve her way through the XWF unscathed en route to her conquering the entire professional wrestling industry. But Misty’s first offering to The Lord backfired. A deformed looking AI version of Jason Cashe was mocked, and then devoured without reward. I thought you were going to make a proper sacrifice I did. Misty’s tone is curt, and cold, as Paulie makes his way into the picture. Then there’s no reason why that lonely housewife Saraha Duke should’ve impacted your match with Jason Cashe at all, or that eye gouge you got on Anarchy from Dick. Paulie is the former XWF Madness General Manager, one of the most successful show-runners in the company's history. But not only that, he’s one of the savviest minds in wrestling, having managed Dolly Waters early in her career, and managing Thaddeus Duke to a Universal Championship. An acumen for the sport that began developing years ago, when working for Misty’s wrestling territory in Kentucky. Paulie’s presence adds another layer of complexity to the situation. He had seen the rise and fall of many in the XWF, and his advice was often laced with a mix of brutal honesty and strategic brilliance. He looked at Misty with a blend of respect and skepticism. We’ve been at this for years, Misty, his tone frustrated as he pulls some sweat from his forehead, and granted— he holds his hand up as if to submit, you pulled it off. Motioning that same hand now up and down Misty’s body, which is actually the body of her granddaughter Dolly, the girl Paulie once managed at different points in her career. You actually took over Dolly, which I thought was crazy. I just had to make her… see. Well, bravo, but— he leans closer to Misty, his eyes tightening along with his tone, down to a conspiratorial whisper, you know as well as I do that this will only last for as long as The Lord allows it. If we don’t do some real damage now, we could lose it all—he snaps his fingers—just like that. You need to prove your unwavering commitment to The Lord and come up with a real sacrifice. Half measures won't cut it. Misty turns her head back to the engineers working tirelessly to prep The SEERS for its next big project, but we notice only Tamil and Rohan, as Mamata is suspiciously absent from the group. Tamil and Rohan appear to be working through tears streaming down their faces. But I made a proper sacrifice, Misty hisses a whisper through her teeth. The Lord wanted real human blood, and I gave it to him. Then I don’t understand the problem— “AND NOW MY WIFE HAS DIED!” Tamil cries out, throwing a clipboard to the floor of the warehouse. “Sacrificed to that beast for nothing!” Tamil, we’ve talked about this! The Lord works in mysterious ways! “I can hear everything you’re whispering!” Enraged, Tamil marches toward Misty and Paulie, as Rohan has stopped his work, drying tears from his eyes and watching on. I’ll ask that you remember yer’ place before yer’ Mother! Misty’s cornered tone halts Tamil. If you two hadn’t went batshit— she points her thumb at Tamil, and her pinky at Rohan—and murdered ALL of yer’ colleagues, then we could’ve sacrificed one of them instead. Mamata’s contribution— “Was in vain!” Tamil shouts back, while Paulie watches on, a horrified look slowly dragging onto his face. Well, let's get one thing straight! Had you two, and our dear Mamata, presented yer’ Mother with an acceptable AI clone, none of this would’ve happened in the first place. You mean to tell me that you sacrificed an actual human to The Lord and he still let you lose those matches? I literally said “he’s fer’saken me” at the beginning of this, Paulie. Paulie rubs at his chin. That doesn’t sound like The Lord. I know! I built a shadow fortune, and a small town political empire doing his bidding. He acts older, confused. You need to seek counsel with The Lord again, ask that his will be shown. What we can’t do is work aimlessly on potential sacrifices that might—uh, Paulie looks around the lab chamber in this warehouse, where he sees some of Misty and The SEERS newest creations. Oddly shaped and awkward versions of some of the participants in her Leap of Faith match. There’s ‘Hi, Neighbor’ Ned Kaye, this version of Ned is an actual alcoholic, tanned and shirtless, and always carrying a can of Hi, Neighbor beer. There’s a somehow even more pathetic version of Dionysus than the one who already exists, quibbling with a slam poet Matthis Synn over Marxist theory. —not be exactly what he’s craving. I ain’t gonna’ summon him empty handed. And this offering ain’t complete yet. She says looking over at the AI clones of her soon-to-be competitors. What makes you think he’s going to want any of these offerings? You already said he didn’t like the Jason Cashe one—look at Ned Kaye for crying out loud. The real Ned Kaye is too soft to be an attractive raging alcoholic Roy Scheider. This AI is more complex than previous. It’s portraying these idiots how they desire to be seen. This is very much who the XWF markets as the cream of the crop—surely, one of them has to be a worthy sacrifice to the lord. And what if it’s not? You lose this moment at Leap of Faith? The paychecks get smaller? Your grip on Dolly fades? I’ll jump into The Lor— she seethes before being cut off. EH! Paulie holds up a finger, stopping Misty. I understand exactly what you mean and I— Paulie nervously plays with his tie and straightens his blazer. I support you in such endeavors, but we must watch what we say, and find out exactly what The Lord wants in an offering, for a reward such as The Universal Championship at Leap of Faith. Not empty handed I ain't. “Take me, Mother!” Tamil cries out, obviously softened to his dear mother Misty again. “Let me go and die as my beloved has died.” And lose another goddamn engineer? Are you limp in the head? An exhausted Misty throws her arms in the air, then stamps her foot at Paulie. See this shit? This is exactly what I mean about the culture these days. Paulie closes his eyes and nods his head in agreement, as if he’s agreed to these very sentiments countless times. Everyone is so quick to jump in and play hero, thirsty for the spotlight. It’s these types of people who ruined the wrestling business to begin with, when we stopped making them workers and let them parade around with one poorly contrived hero's journey after the other! Why! she shifts over and puts her arm around Tamil. This is one lovely rendition of a Johnny Bukakis if I’ve ever seen one. Johnny Bukkake? Oh, he’s nothing, just another tragic love story with a vengeful god complex. Just like dear Tamil here, ready to chase something he’ll never get back to his destruction in the name of righteousness that was lost so long ago. Ready to play god in front of the True Lord, and die! It’s then that there's a fierce explosion, a screeching blackness enveloping them, as Paulie, Misty, and Tamil are seemingly transported into a sightless realm of black clouds. Oh shit! There’s a hideous growl, followed by the sighting of red glowing, diamond-shaped eyes peering through the clouds. The comically terrifying demon known as The Lord walks to face Misty and Tamil. He looks almost like some goofy Lowes inflatable Matthis Synn would decorate his yard with two months before Halloween. He's tall, slim, with a spiny exoskeleton, and a goblin-shaped skull with large horns. Which of my children has called on The Lord for an offering? YES! Oh Lord, my grace! Misty grabs Tamil by his coat and pulls him in front of her. I’ve brought to you another— Tamil screams and urinates down his leg. Another bowl of curry! The Lord pulls his head back after sniffing Tamil. AFTER I TOLD YOU, WATERS?! My Lord! she kneels, cowering her head. I mistook the Lord’s will, I thought the last sacrifice was acceptable. SOME BONEY INDIAN DWEEB?! THE LORD REQUIRES THE EXTRAORDINARY! THE POWERFUL! THE PUREST OF AMERICAN BLOOD SPILLED IN HIS NAME! Forgive my insolence, my lord. YOU WILL RETURN WITH A TRUE OFFERING, CHILD, OR I WILL TAKE YOUR TOYS AWAY! With that, the black clouds fade, and the trio are back in the warehouse, rejoining Rohan. They stand in shocked silence, Misty glaring at Paulie, gnawing at her lip. She turns and marches over to Rohan, relaying to him the idea of an even more extraordinary AI blueprint. But we don’t begin this one until we’re finished with the Leap of Faith crop. Do you understand? “Yes, Mother,” Rohan confirms. What happened to the Misty Waters before she met The Lord? Paulie asks, with an intentful curiosity on his face. I seem to remember a cunning, shrewd, rather witchy young woman, who didn’t have any use for these Norse demons until she thought she had a use for them. I already know where yer’ going with this— she proclaims, marching to the exit of the Think Tank. I remember you leaping around that ring, even as a child, I remember the witchcraft, the seances, the hexes, the madness. You cheated your way to the top before, Misty, no demons. I know, Paulie. I’m not Sarah Duke. Ain’t no demon about to run me up out of my American Dream. It’s time to go back to my roots. The Appalachian Foothills The mosquitos float in the darkness, only illuminated by the intermittent glowing of the fireflies circling this eerie wooded creekland. A setting like nightfall over a witch’s woods. We’re drawn to a small fire in this secluded portion of Appalachia, where it’s assumed that Misty has flirted with black magic like a teenager running off into the woods with their crush—dating back as long ago as the 1970s. Was it here where she first toiled with the discovery of possession? Where she took her first blood oaths to the ancient Pagan mothers of ruin? Where she— —ribbit— —currently sits cross-legged on a log, with a frog in her mouth, ass-first? —ribbit— Misty’s eyelids flutter, her pupils rolling back into her bobbing skull as sweat dances down her forehead. Her tongue unconsciously goes to work cleaning nature’s slimy ticket to the divine from the frog’s undercarriage. —ribbit— Misty floats into a beaming and bright euphoria, where the clouds glow in a harmonious red, white, and blue. The colors blend together, and everything bursts with a vibrant purple. Misty has returned to seek counsel with the very spirit warrior who granted her strength in the 1970s. The one who taught her the ways of cunning and excellence. The one who drove the inspiration for Misty to not only become a wrestling champion when she was a child but whose shrewd instruction she followed into taking over the Kentucky wrestling territories. The one who taught her about charisma, about power, about— OOOOOOHHHHH YEEEAAAAAAHHHHHH -ribbit Misty drops to her knees, tears falling from her eyes at the sight before her. Frogcho Man… A giant frog dressed in the type of gear Misty would wear to the ring. A gaudy leather jacket, with tassel-lined sleeves, large sunglasses, and a cowboy hat, has materialized through the purple colors. Seems some-ribbit-body here doesn't know me when they think that they do—YEAH—I am the Frogcho Man, and I am the purest form of ability and tenacity that the heavens have ever graced down—ribbit—on this planet yeah, yeah, yeah see YOU there, little baldheaded girl, you look like someone who’s not ready to feel the real madness—ribbit—ooooh yeeah. Frogcho Man— Misty’s voice pleads, I do know you, oh ancient one. You taught me the ways of the Madness many moons ago. Are you tryin’ to make a liar out of the Frogcho Man? This tongue is used for catching flies, not lies, yeah! And I used this very tongue when I was a teenager to find you, Frogcho Man. You taught me everything I know— Hmm then why would the Frogcho Man’s weird little amphibian eyeballs deceive him? Yeeaah you look young right now! Too young to have a—ribbit—understanding of the Madness. Because I’ve possessed my granddaughter’s body, Frogcho Man. Because you told me to never let the Madness die, no matter what! Ooooh Yeeeah, it’s starting to sound a little familiar to the Frogcho Man, now. YEAH That tone. That tongue! It’s a tongue I’d remember anywhere! It’s me… It’s— The Misty Madness, oh yeah! I seek yer’ wisdom, Frogcho Man. oooooh yeeeah, I hear it loud and clear without you even croaking, Misty. You’ve forgotten, yeah, forgotten the power of what’s long laid inside of the madness in these creek waters. You see, The Frogcho Man isn’t concerned with external forces who dare try and usurp the spirit of the Madness, yeeah. No blood-drinking demon, no watered down, mutated version of a bad soap opera wrestlers will conquer the might of the Frogcho Man. For those with the Madness will LEAP into our destiny, while the pions and pretenders walk like the mere mortals they are, yeah. But the demon, it threatens to undo everything. The Madness doesn’t ask for any help, yeah! It’s unwavering, yeah! And the Misty Madness—it’s all the evil you need to succeed—oooooh yeeeeeah! As Frogcho Man dissipates back into the purple clouds, Misty awakes, steeped over face-first on the creek rocks, mud smeared on her face, desperately gasping for the shallow, dirty creek water below. A Cold Blooded Leap My offering is ready. Bring me The Lord. The dark clouds again smother everything, aside from Misty’s smiling, ray ban covered face. The pomp and gaudiness of her maddening strength on full display with her leather and sequenced attire. It sparkles red, white and blue among these dark clouds. Again we see the red eyes of The Lord glowing as he walks through the black clouds and faces Misty. YOU BETTER HAVE SOMETHING GOOD THIS TIME, WATERS! Misty just smiles and nods her head, Oh I’ve got somethin’ good alright, but you better have a good offer first. The Lord jerks his head back at this defiance, THE LORD’S WILL BE DONE! He, you’ve seemed to mistake Misty Waters for someone who’s forgotten the rules of engagement- If you want my offer, then I need to understand the reward, yeah. It’s you after all who’s bargaining with a mortal. I see - - IF YOU HAVE AN OFFERING OF THAT PURE BLOODED, TOXIC, AMERICAN FLESH THAN I SHALL GRANT YOUR PATH TO THE UNIVERSAL CHAMPIONSHIP Ooooh Yeeeah Misty walks away from The Lord and rips away a black drape that uncovers an AI version of Saraha Duke, Let me first introduce to you The Lonely Housewife, Sarhara Duke. She’s packed full of that self-righteous, defiled American angst that you desperately crave, yeah. Attention crazed, with a Twitter reputation of being “pretty” to uphold. The type of woman who deals with her crumbling marriage by making it a spectacle for the world to see. Force feeding the fake pearls Thad draped around her neck to the swine who will eat anything in the first place. Imagine having a melt down every time that insufferably horney husband of hers shot googly eyes at woman. Someone so insecure she ended her marriage over a woman who hasn’t even fucked her man - yet. Yeeeah see, because whether she wants to admit it or not, it was only a matter of time before Thad felt that flame for this vessel again. Just when you two were hooking up all those years ago, Thad was making out with this body when it was occupied by Michael Graves. Shame for her to know that even deep into their relationship, Thad Duke was back making cameos in the XWF and professing his never ending love for this body. She thinks Misty has ruined her life, but trust me- I haven’t even begun to try. Dolly made things hard for you, well you ain’t seen nothing yet. See, Lord? Nothing quite screams pure American Toxic Waste like a good J-Lo and Ben story- right? But if that’s not exactly what yer lookin fer’ then let me introduce  you to- she walks a few feet and pulls another black drape down Hi-Neighbor Ned Kaye! Outside of being a butt-pirate, Ned is the terminally “recovering alcoholic” who couldn’t recite a single 12 step, if his serenity depended on it. Instead he leaves himself drunk and bloated on the lies, and sympathy for a story of his failed life that only he continues to perpetuate. Yet he tries playing hero until it hurts. The audacity! As if the world had something to learn from a self-loathing drunk who’s reached the mountain and is still sad about it. I guess it’s why he goes months without a real defense of his Tag Titles. Terrified they’ll slip through his fingers just like the Uni, so he can conveniently blame the very horse he hitched his wagon to- kneeling to a Prince. Ned plays hero to the “good guys”, trying to redeem each and everyone, Main, Kido, Prince, just long enough for him to realize that he hates these “good guys”. Then he blacks out, drunk from the selfish rage of people feeling sorry for his story, not being enough to carry him through. Surely this model of future mass shooter, is just the type of pure American rot and ruin you seek, Lord to put me on my path for victory at Leap of Faith- but if not- Misty rips another drape down, A THREE FER’ ONE! It’s Dionysus, Matthis Synn and Johnny Bacchus The good, the bad, and the give me a goddamn break! Dionysus is the man who won the right to host his own spectacle, on his own turf, his own rules, to manipulate the events of The Revelry into being his true homecoming. Winning Fire and Ice,  only to follow it up with shits and giggles, blowing SEB until yer’ were lockjaw, in one of the biggest duds of a wrestling event ever witnessed. The gluttonous apathy of the American spirit that's so ripe with all that’s wrong with culture. Then there’s Mattis Synn, another brutally deep beta male, who seeks so desperately to shock and awe audiences with how dreadful and twisted his mind is. Spooooky, right? It’s the worst. This little nitwit bourgeoisies rich boy- oh he’s so cold and misunderstood, tortured with dreams of dismantling oppressive hierarchies that have never impacted him! A self proclaimed revolutionary with no revolution to lead- what else would pure American blood be without the false, incapable cult leader? And last but not least ENOUGH! I’VE SEEN ENOUGH! The Lord roars, But I haven’t told you about Johnny Buttkiss here! An online webpublisher, who blogs about his affection for SEB, despite trying to convince us that he seeks to terminate this “common pest”. A common pest is all SEB is, yet Johnny Butt-lick here chases him around from one federation to the next like a thirsty dead-head, going through hell and high water to witness their favorite act. I guess that makes Johnny a common groupie. A smelly, pretentious vagabond who fancies himself a god. The type who wants to make everyone think there’s purpose to this drift, when it’s really as simple as this: Johnny is nothing without his chase. You take away the tie dye, and the acid, and the shitty music, Johnny is just an empty man. No mediocre Universal Champion that he can’t defeat in the first place, then Johnny will leave the XWF, which is exactly what happens to SEB once he loses to Mark Flynn at Leap of Faith. And how convenient will that be? After all the hoopla that was put on for Bukakis, with some big build to a match between he and SEB that has already disappointed audiences in lesser federations- Bukakis will watch first hand as SEB is torn apart in these shark infested waters of the XWF- just after the loses to Misty Waters NONE OF THIS TRASH IS ACCEPTABLE! DRUG ADDICTS, WHORES AND COMMUNISTS! But I’ve still got Peter Vaughn here, surely he’s more of that boring, blue collar, pure blooded American that’ll- Save your pathetic sacrifices, and rely on your own ability for once. But it’s you who commissions these sacrifices Oh you feeble girl- you really thought I was The Lord? We should’ve seen this coming. The demon beast, The Lord, opens himself from a zipper revealing himself to be none other than- Fuckin’ Ronald Reagan?!