Hero Xtreme and the Generation X Fallacy

It's a beautifully warm-for-February evening and the sun is beginning to set just before 19:00. Outside of a grimy little bungalow we hear a series of twigs and leaves cracking and crunching as a pair of boots scurries across the brown-looking yard the house sits on. The camera pans around until it focuses on a leafless tree with an awkward shadow coming from the side of it...

"Ah shit!"

The camera zooms in, and we see Jim Caedus nervously peeking around the trunk of the tree, looking even dirtier and sleepless than usual.

"FUCK! I hope no one saw me..."

Caedus pulls a Rambo-sized combat knife from his boot and bites down on it with his teeth before taking off running toward the small house. Not sure why he stuck the knife in his mouth before running, rather than just keeping it in his hand, but hey, the fuck does it matter anyway?

Caedus dives onto the ground and somersaults toward the house before standing quickly and slamming his back against the dirty stucco siding on the backside of the ratty bungalow. He notices a window open about ten feet down to his right, so he begins edging closer to the window. As Caedus get's closer to the window he can hear some shitty song, by some shitty Gen X band blaring through the window.

Caedus hears the song as his face twists with disgust and anguish.

He whispers. "The fuck?"

!!!!CRASH-BANG-SPILL-CRASH-FUMBLE-BLAM!!!!

Jim accidentally stumbles over a metal trashcan, falling on it and making a shit ton of noise. A howling, possibly rabies infested black cat jumps out from outta nowhere and sinks it's claws into Caedus' face.

"AHHHHHHH!!!!!" His knife falls to his feet.

The animal hisses and growls loudly, attacking Caedus' face as Jim swings around wildly trying to pry the cats razor sharp claws from his face.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

He succeeds in tearing the feline hooks free from his flesh and slams the beast to the ground. Wasting no time, Jim drops to his knees, recovers his blade and stabs away until his attacker lies still. Blood from the cat splatters all over his mouth and beard- and he appears to enjoy this. Maybe it's not the first time a black puss has squirted all over his face. He then produces his phone from his pocket and uses the dimmed illumination to reveal the identity of the creature.

'A cat!?'

Poor pussy...

'You're no better than Stiller's character in Tropic Thunder. Panda killer, I hope you're proud of yourself.'

That was life or death right there. Goddamn animal fought more ferociously than any human I've ever faced.

'It feels...moist out here. _Very_ moist and _very_ warm.'

Jim places a hand to his pants crotch.

'You pissed yourself. You pissed yourself over pussy. Your dick already smells like sour nuts and wet dog, the addition of urine scent is more than I can take...'

Hopefully this house has a washing machine. Speaking of which...

Jim returns his attention to intentions of breaking and entering the domicile he has so spectacularly failed to approach quietly. But...he needs answers and he's going to get them.

Now ignoring the open window below which rests a pile of rancid garbage from the overturned trashcan, he creeps around the house to the back door, inserts the tip of his hunting knife into the lock and jimmies it around...........................to no avail.

"Oh fuck this."

!!!SPLINTER-SMASH-CRASH!!!

Jim powers into the door with his beefy right shoulder, bashing the egress in, splintering the door jam and falling to a heap just inside.

The music continues to play at it's full volume, effectively muting the sounds of his forced entry.

Regaining his composure as he rises to his feet, Jim makes his way towards the source of the "music"...he rounds the first corner into the target room...and spies his quarry..........

A man cutting himself with a butter-knife in rhythm to the song's beat, looking at pictures of invisible people. Jim raises his hunting knife threateningly and-

"Hello Buronan."

Buronan doesn't respond as the music drowns out Jim's intimidating though too quiet tone of voice.

"_Hello Buronan_!"

Still too quiet. Jim's shoulders drop in exasperation, he lowers the knife and inhales mightily before-

A split second following the song's conclusion, in silence:"_BURONAN_!!!"

Suddenly there's a feeling of a sharp edge pressed into Caedus' jugular, and then the sound of an awkwardly sensual whisper into Jim's ear:

"I'm right here..."

It's Buronan. He's standing behind Caedus, holding him still with with a soldering iron. Caedus slowly opens his arms up and drops his combat knife to the floor.

"Okay, but if you're Buronan, then who in the hell is that?"

Caedus asks referring to the naked man cutting himself with the butter-knife.

"That's Milo. A heroine addicted, openly-queer, vagrant who believes he is God. I lured him into a cage with bath salts, a metal skull ring and pictures of Johnathan Taylor Thomas. Then I captured him. But strictly for A-sexual research..."

Buronan felt compelled to clarify that.

"Another 'old skool' Gen X latchkey loser undoubtedly able to recite every lyric and skat every guitar lick off the Ten album, reminiscing on the early days of the excitement in-the-closet-gayrodery held when he had to pause tape to jack off during that PPV Ladder Match trying to make out Hickenbottom's ass amidst the VHS scramble, then retiring to the desktop to weep and blog on how much better Beta was with on pause picture clarity. Whatta disgusting creature."

"Indeed. I-"

Just as Buronan is about to finish his sentence, Caedus quickly reaches behind, grabbing his captor's arm and flipping him over his shoulder. Caedus slams Buronan down onto his back and while still holding onto his arm, presses his knee down onto the side of Buronan's face.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS ALL OF THIS ANYWAY?!? SOME SORTA' AMBUSH?!?"

Milo stands up and turns around toward Caedus and Buronan, exposing some pinko-deemed picturesque full frontal nudity. Caedus picks up his knife from the floor and points it toward Milo causing him to raise his arms, as he then exposes his bitch-baby-bare armpits.

"Don't you move you fucking freak!"

Still pointing the knife at Milo, Caedus looks back down to Buronan and begins screaming at him.

"YOU'VE GOT SOME EXPLAINING TO DO MOTHERFUCKER! I SAW YOUR LAST PROMO! YOU WANNA 'RIDE MY COATTAILS'?!?"

"Well no shit man!"

"WRONG ANSWER!"

Jim presses his knee down harder into Buronan's head and continues questioning him.

"You messaged me on XWF.com the day before the second round names were drawn; being all and strange and shit! HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT SICKLY LOOKING DRUNK FUCKING INTERN WAS GOING TO DRAW OUR NAMES TOGETHER, HUH? WHO ARE YOU WORKING FOR?!?"

"Murmph brughf... crunt brumphf..."

"HUH?!? WHAT'S THAT?!? I CAN'T HEAR YOU!!!"

"I crunt... frerkin... breefe...

"Fine."

Caedus eases the pressure with his knee a bit, allowing Buronan to lift his head, but still applies pressure to his arm. Milo inches closer to the two, but Caedus sees him and looks back toward him. Pointing the knife with his words he yells:

"NOT ANOTHER STEP ! OR I'LL END YOUR PEDERAST ASS!"

"He's mentally deranged, Jim. One of God's mistakes. Reason isn't a part of his mental make-up.

"Oh I can tell, the unreasonable recognize the unreasonable."

Caedus hocks a loogie and spits it toward Milo's feet.

"It's why I thought that he would be a perfect subject for us to better understand Hero XTreme 7.9, and even in some regards, Mr. Crowe"

"But haven't you already beaten Hero? Why do you need to better understand him?"

"On the contrary. Trax and I defeated a team that Hero was on, but not the Flores-Man hyped as a deity himself."

"Well I say you win as a team, and you lose as a team."

"That's a great point... but right now you have your teammate pinned down like a blushing rape-victim to-be."

"That's...inarguably so."

Caedus pauses for a moment before finally letting go of Buronan and helping him to his feet.

"I offer my apologies. Understand, I haven't exactly been in the best of places as pertains to trust for the last 14 years. It's only gotten worse with age and...recent betrayal.

"Thanks, Jim. I can appreciate your overall skepticism, I've never been one to operate in the most transparent of fashions. But to answer your questions, first about me messaging you prior to the name drawing... I felt something. The writing was on the wall- Jim Caedus had just formally been paired with Robbie Bourbon and made an honorary Bourbon-man.

Bouuuuuuurbon-man...
Buuuuuuuuuuro-nan...

The evidence was staggering. This right here, you and me, locked away in my bungalow with a naked alt-right pederast ? This is our destiny, Jim."

'You know...he does make some very good points. And you're the last person to deny there is most definitely a force of will to life that can not only coerce but full on manipulate and execute.'

"That does make a cum load of sense... Why, like a blind hooker, didn't I see it coming?"

"I don't know, Jim. Not even I, The Buronan have all the answers to everything."

"Okay so what about you saying you're just using me in your promo?!?"

"Jim, Jimmy, James, Jimothy...

Buronan pats Caedus on the shoulder and stands closer to him.

"You just threw me to the ground like a Hero Xtreme-damned rag-doll, dude. I weigh one-hundred and forty-nothing on the most generous of scales. The only benching I ever did was in highschool cleaning the athletes' testosteronal sweat and anal leakage from the bench on the side lines. Sure, I'm handy with weaponry and shit, but the last time I checked, we're not booked in a no-DQ match.

If you will allow me to rely on your superior talent, and I provide for us my superior mental prowess, then I promise you... we'll both be moving on to the next round of Lethal Lottery!"

'I like how this guy thinks.'

SUDDENLY A FULL XWF CAMERA CREW ACCOMPANIED WITH FAMED DIPSHIT INTERVIEWING EXPERT, STEVEN L. SAYORS RUNS THROUGH BURONAN'S ALREADY DESTROYED BACK DOOR!

"Hello XWF! This is Steven Sayors coming to you live from the residence of Buronan! This is, what we all believe to be the first meeting between Buronan and his Lethal Lottery Round 2 partner, TV and Federweight Champ, Jim Caedu- wait, why is there a naked man in your house with you two? Um, if this is a bad time I can-"

"NONSENSE! THIS IS THE PERFECT TIME!"

"Alrighty then, Jim we'll start with you. Congratulations first of all on emerging victorious in the XWF's first ever Jane Federweight Scramble! Now, as the second round of Lethal Lottery looms, are you finding it difficult to stretch yourself in so many different directions taking into account you now have to defend your TV Title against Cadryn Tiberius AND watch your back 24/7 holding the Federweight Belt?"

"Steve, I've been busy as hell maintaining multiple avenues of success and activity throughout the majority of my life. Shit only slowed down with my homelessness in recent years but it's been picking back up to chaotic without brakes since I signed on the dotted line with the XWF. Am I finding it difficult? Fuck no, I've a determination barreling past the definition of obsession as well as a well of will, experience and experiences to draw from...and that well's depths extend to fuckin' infinity."

"So you have no doubt you and your partner will be entering that ring in Monterey at 100% then? What are your thoughts on your opponents?"

"Buronan is always at a hundred percent, always on his game. As for me, like I've said, my well will never run dry. My opinion on our opponents is this: Shaun Crowe is an intimidating talent without question. Unfortunately, his pairing with Xtreme Rookie Zero and by proxy that pussy NOC doesn't seem to represent a team that'll gel too well. I'm not one to predict victory so what I will say is win or lose, the Buromen will be beating our competition down to within an inch of their lives and stand an excellent chance at advancing to round 3."

Steve thanks Jim and turns his attention to Buronan. Jim catches Milo twitching and levels a single narrowed eye in his direction before dividing his attention between his partner and the gimp.

"Buronan, you, like Mr. Caedus were successful in your first round match against Hero XTreme 7.9 and Game Girl. But unlike Jim Caedus, this was your first time ever stepping into an XWF ring. Tell me, how was picking up that victory gratifying for you?"

"Well it was phenomenally gratifying, Stan! And although it was my good partner and now second best friend in the world, Trax, scoring the pinfall- I'm super grateful that I was able to assist my team. Ya know-"

Buronan abruptly snatches the microphone out of Steve's hand and begins addressing the camera directly,

"Hero XTreme's mouthpiece did a lot of jaw jabbering leading up to that match, just like he's been doing leading up to this match. And it will all be for naught once again. Granted, the first time we met it was under handicap rules because his partner decided to shit the bed and they lost- but the liberal management team decided to show him pity.

GET THAT! 'GOD' was shown pity and allowed to advance and move on... pity is reserved only for the pitiful, I always say. Just like this pitiful, oldskool, gen x, vagrant, alt-right homosexual, Milo Yursabigdickinsiloveinmyass. We all look at him and say:

'Oh boy, this guy is a crypto-racist nut job who panders to other crypto-racist nut jobs- and when given the opportunity to explain his position within the confines of reality, he fails miserably. I'VE GOT AN IDEA! LET'S GIVE HIM A BIGGER AUDIENCE OF WASHED UP OLDSCHOOL NITWITS WHO CAN'T WRAP THIER MINDS AROUND SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGICAL ADVANCES!'

The same goes for NOCMM, but unfortunately for him this isn't Brietbart. He's absolutely worthless as a Gen X invisible gimmick stealing manager. Tell your client to put away the raw eggs and tuna, dumbass! We have advanced per-workout supplements formulated by millennials to help one achieve optimum gains.

See the oldschool fucks are overrated if you ask me. Generation X makes up the majority of our homeless population, so it's no wonder the management team found it necessary to give this fuck-stick a hand out. That's the problem with being the advocate for the oldschool. They're the forgettable middle-child who fucked up all the time, never having the balls of the first child, or the brains of the youngest child; so they get hooked on drugs living in a tent out in the woods and have been led to believe that their way of life is cool, or acceptable.

Let me explain something to you NOCMM, if your way of doing business around here is what the oldschool is accustomed to, then I'm damn glad I missed that shitty era. Me and Ceadus, we're going to fuck your man- er- I mean fuck him up! Crowe will no show because he'll be busy overdosing on mollie, and because frankly, you're leaving him uninspired.

So have fun leading your shit client to putting over YET ANOTHER rookie, just like he's done during the course of his entire asinine, ass-to-mouth career.

"Well, uh, um can I have my mic back now?"

Buronan tosses the microphone out of the front door.

"Go fish, Stewart. Caedus and I have business to attend to."

Once the XWF film crew has safely departed, the lenses thankfully absent, Jim turns to Buronan-

"Milo, bring me my knife."

Baby dick flopping awkwardly as he complies, Milo walks over and hands Caedus the blade. Jim holds Buronan's gaze throughout and following the freak's retrieval and delivery, the two spending ten seconds of stillness and silence without so much as a facial twitch.

Jim then spins and plunges the six inches of steel into Milo's lower belly just above an oddly classic MTV logo shaped patch of pubic hair. Milo inhales sharply in shock, no scream, as people tend to react when being stabbed in reality. Jim grabs the freak by the throat with his left hand to hold him in place and, grunting from the effort, slices upwards through flesh, muscle and tendon to the solar plexus.

He allows Milo to crumble onto his back, his breathing frantic, his eyes welling and spilling over with tears. He straddles Milo now, dropping the knife and stabbing his mitts into the large wound, wrenching a length of intestine free with all his might and stuffing it into Milo's open mouth before once again grabbing the knife and slamming it down with full force, piercing the gimp's skull and brain with a sickeningly wet thud. Milo exhales on impact, his eyes flickering...moments later he expires.

Jim rises, uses a boot on Milo's neck for leverage to pull the knife free the turns back to Buronan.

"That's how I'm gonna handle Hero for the Buromen. Do yourself a favor and forget this ever happened, do not speak a word of it to another living soul or anything ELSE for that matter. Now, I need to wash up while you clean up. Where's the bathroom?"

Buronan points and Caedus squishes his way on out of the room with a wink for his partner.

"I fucking love this guy!"