It's been a few days since we got word that Mister Mystery 17 31707 1 has apparently tested positive for anabolic steroids. In an unforeseen event that Mark Flynn would have downplayed as a bad "promo" we had live cameras on the scene at the Feder household when the news came in. Mister Mystery has been told by General Manager Arkin Blackwater that he has one last chance to take a new test and come out clean.
When Mister Mystery originally heard that he tested positive, he lost his mind and destroyed half of the Feder house but was finally able to calm down and come up with a very legit sounding excuse to give General Manager Blackwater. He simply explained-
-it wasn't his piss! Problem solved, right?
Well, not if you're General Manager Blackwater because that only raised more questions.
We later learned that Mister Mystery had a vial of Mr. Satellite's urine, given to him by Donathan several days prior, so that in the event of a drug test he could use Mr. Satellite's urine instead of his own. This was apparently a double safeguard just in case the foreign elements that Donathan was introducing into Mister Mystery's blood stream failed to cloak the steroids that Donathan had been pumping him with while trying to "enlighten" him.
Donathan's plan was for Satellite's urine to be used, which would indeed come back clean, but even if that somehow couldn't happen then the formula Donathan was giving Mystery would surely clense his own natural piss. Wrong!
Instead, we have a case of a confused Mister Mystery making things even worse on himself by forgetting to use the vial, testing positive, and then claiming that he was using another man's sample for the test. Great job, Mister Mystery -- Mark Flynn would be proud of you.
And that's where we're at in this story as our cameras open up on-
DEAR GOD NO -- that's Mister Mystery's penis with a thick stream of golden piss shooting out of it. Why are there so many veins on that thing and why are parts of it sort of blue looking? It's got this unusual swelling to it; not one of arousal but rather like it's been recently irritated or dare I say -- attacked? What the fuck is wrong with that thing?
More importantly what's wrong with any viewer still watching as he finishes urinating into the piss cup and shakes himself off before putting himself away and zipping up? He twists the lid onto the piss cup and turns to the left to see General Manager Blackwater personally standing there waiting for him to finish. Blackwater is calmly looking him in the eye just as casually as he was observing the fluid being released from Mister Mystery's urethra.
:Blackwater:
I certainly hope you're able to pass this test. If not, you're out of the entire Gauntlet City pay per view and suspended for no less than six months before you'll even be given a chance to beg to return to work.
:MM 17 31707 1: You think I care about work? I'm here to destroy and if I can't do it here, then I'll go to one of those other feds we aren't allowed to talk about and just fuck their shit up for six months.
:Blackwater:
Well that's an interesting response -- so you're basically telling me you're going to fail this test. Good to know.
:MM 17 31707 1: What? You misunderstood me just like you did on the phone earlier this week.
:Blackwater:
You mean when you told me that it wasn't your urine but instead was urine belonging to Mr. Satellite? Basically confirming that you had a reason to try and avoid having your own urine tested?
:MM 17 31707 1: Yeah, that. It's not at all what I said.
:Blackwater:
You know I've got that phone call on tape, right? I've also forwarded copies to Shane , Wallace Witasick and Paul Heyman. All the key players who run each show know you tried to blame your dirty test on Mr. Satellite.
Mister Mystery clenches his fists and he punches the wall so hard that the light fixture above them rattles and flickers.
:MM 17 31707 1: All I've got to say is -- I'm clean and you'll know that as soon as you take a sip from that cup.
General Manager Blackwater is taken aback by that statement as he tries to figure out if Mister Mystery is just being an asshole or actually, legitimately believes that drinking the urine is how they test for steroids. He just shakes his head in dismay as he brings Mister Mystery's cup of urine into the next room.
:Blackwater:
We'll call you with the results. Have a good day, Mr. Feder.
:MM 17 31707 1: What -- you aren't going to test it in front of me? How do I know you're sipping from the right cup when you test it? I bet that's how you confused mine with somebody else's last time!
There is no response as General Manager Blackwater has already allowed the door to shut behind him after entering the next room. Mister Mystery stands there appearing to be confused on what just happened; he seriously seems to believe something fishy is going on by Blackwater not testing (a.k.a. Sipping) the urine right in front of him.
After the precautionary measures I took to ensure I'd pass this test, I felt robbed when that dickbag walked out of the room with my piss and hadn't even tasted it yet. If I get a phone call telling me that I've tested positive again I'm going to hunt him down and surgically remove his esophagus with that saw Mark Flynn thinks I'm always talking about.
He watched it spray out of my dick hole -- he better not try and pull any shit with me.
I left that encounter feeling nervous but I knew my plan was a sure fire one. Damn, do I feel sore down there -- it was worth it though; there was no way in hell that Peter Gilmour was on steroids.
Several hours prior
We're taken to the site of Mister Mystery's recent warehouse promo where he imitated Mark Flynn and re-shot Flynn's own, similar production. How can this be? Didn't the warehouse explode at the end of the promo, right after Mister Mystery as Mark Flynn clicked his tongue?
Sure; only if you believed it -- you see, much like any promo from Flynn, the dynamite within never seems to cross over into actual reality. It's like listening to Mark Flynn talk about what he can do to Mister Mystery, only to tune in live at the end of the week and watch Flynn be pinned by Mister Mystery in the middle of the ring. The premature bangs and booms don't affect the real world in the slightest bit because they're Flynnthetic explosions.
For those of you unfamiliar with the word Flynnthetic, let's take a peek at its definition-
Flynn·thet·ic [Flin-thet-ik] adjective
not real or genuine; artificial; feigned; fake as shit: you make a Flynnthetic claim to Mark Flynn that he is your favorite wrestler, in hopes of getting an autograph from him that you can sell on ebay for a couple dollars the instant you get to your computer.
Synonyms
phony, counterfeit, sham.
So now that you've come to terms with the fact that anything from Mark Flynn -- even a "Flynnthetic" Mark Flynn being played by Mister Mystery -- is in fact an outright heap of horse manure, it's easy to see why this warehouse still stands without a hint of fire damage to any part of it. The spotlight from that promo is still hanging over that steel folding chair and the bottle of Jameson's Irish Whiskey is sitting right beside the chair, about 1/4th full.
Sid Feder walks up toward the chair and picks up the bottle. He examines it as if he's looking at some kind of alien rock that fell from the moon.
:3 x Better: Who drinks this shit? Why not just drink water if you're thirsty? I've never understood why people have to poison their bodies and minds with such-
clunk -- the sound of Mister Mystery's hand snatching that bottle from Sid is just enough to make Sid roll his eyes and shake his head. He watches as Mister Mystery dumps the last bit of whiskey through the holes of his own hockey mask and into his mouth even though a majority of it spills down the mask and dribbles down his chin and neck onto his ripped up army vest. Once the bottle is completely empty it gets cast aside like a John Madison in a match with actual talented competitors in it -- but in this case that bottle isn't lucky enough to become special guest ref; it merely shatters to pieces much like any secretive dreams John Madison once had that he keeps burying under piles, piles, and more piles of self-depreciating bullshit. All in an effort to make us believe he's in the position he wants to be in when he's stuck and drowning under that thick sheet of ice all the top names easily stand on.
Knock knock knock. It echoes through the entire warehouse like thunder; a knocking that is quick and aggressive.
No, that's not John Madison knocking on the ice and trying to break through to our level. He'd never dare to knock because as long as he doesn't let us know he wants through, he doesn't have to feel as humiliated by the fact that nobody will help him make it.
No, it's not Mark Flynn knocking back another bottle after sobering up and re-realizing that Mister Mystery pinned his ass last weekend. He's figured out by now that no amount of Flynnthetic medicine will wash away the fact that he's found a man he's inferior to in every conceivable way.
That knocking sound? It's coming from that door.
Over there in the corner of the warehouse -- that large, steel door that is locked tight.
Oh, and those screams? That's the woman being held inside of it by Mister Mystery and Sid Feder.
:3 x Better: I've got nothing to do with the woman locked in that room, narrator. Last time it was Mister Mystery who knocked you out cold; I'll be glad to do it this time if you can't get your facts straight.
I stand corrected -- Sid Feder has nothing to do with the woman being held in that room. It's all Mister Mystery.
:MM 17 31707 1: You've got that right, and you won't believe the torture she's being put through in that room. No shackles; no ropes; no physical abuse -- well, not yet anyway.
Mister Mystery leads us toward the steel door and when he opens it we can hear the voice of a very familiar sounding man.
There's no mistaking it-
-that's the voice of John Madison! Is he in there with that woman?
, Wallace Witasick and Paul Heyman. All the key players who run each show know you tried to blame your dirty test on Mr. Satellite.
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