((OOC: I'd like to deeply apologize to my opponents ahead of time, this week was a terrible week in terms of a school workload, and I didn't have the time to work on this until recently. Again, apologies for sandbagging, and props to Holliday/Drake should they win.))



"Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it."

~ Mark Twain

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13 October 2017
Unnamed Hotel
Vancouver, British Columbia

The camera pans in on an unnamed hotel room at the site for the upcoming XWF event Leap of Faith, Vancouver, British Columbia. In there, we can see Jon Williams, the deuteragonist of this story, on a bed, trying to get a hold of someone.

"Come on..." he can be heard muttering, even trying to slap his phone as if he was tryrying to smack some sense into someone.

Suddenly, an audible click can beheard as the door slowly slides open, revealing the disheveled form of Finn Kühn. Noticing the noise, Jon turned his head to sed his friend in a wreck in front of him.

"Jesus Christ dude, what happened to you?"

Finn shrugged. "I'm fine."

"Man, it's clear to everyone you're not 'fine.' You've been off the grid for the past MONTH or so, you've been losing your matches, and we need to talk about what happened with the police."

"Nothing to talk about. They showed up, arrested us, we both paid the bail."

"Then why the hell did they transfer you to the Brooklyn detention center? Why were they going on about how you--"

Finn held up his hand to stop Jon. "We can talk about it. Later. I have a match to prepare for. I'm going for Gilmour's Hart Championship, and this time I'm not playing around."

Finn then moved to hop into the bathroom, however Jon's voice stopped Finn in his tracks. "You've changed. Your appearance, they way you carry yourself. You're more lazy, sloppy, disheveled. Even your voice seems dampened."

Silence permeated the room between the two for what seemed like ages. Finally, Finn took a loud deep breath to break it. "I just feel... exhausted. It's like I... lost just who exactly I am."

"Finn, you realize I can help, right? We're friends, that's what we're supposed to do."

Finn let out a laugh, which almost seemed like a relief to him. "Well, if you wouldn't mind stepping into the ring with two other guys to win me a title shot for the Hart Championship..." The duo let put a few chuckles as Finn hopped into the bathroom.

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"I'll be honest with you: for a while now, I've been kind of... directionless. I haven't shown hide nor hair of myself for a good month plus, and when I was around to wrestle, I was disposed of by the likes of nobodies, the very kind of people I spat on in the beginning."

"Is this what it truly feels like to feel inadequate? If so, then I completely understand why you lower-card rejects feel exactly the same way and try and make up lies to try and validate your entire existance, because I for one detest having to wake up and see this sorry mug in the mirror daily."

"I'll make my words short and sweet here. The kid gloves are coming off. I may have floundered for a bit, but a Lion shouldn't have to degrade himself to walking amongst pathetic insects. No, I'm going to win, make no mistake, and I'm going to make this look easy in the process."

"Don't think for a second I haven't noticed just what exactly you said, John Holliday. The sheer fact you think I'm a joke is pathetic, just loosely based off of the fact that I may have floundered in hell for a bit. But let's be honest here for a second: do you truly think you have a chance against me when I TRY?"

"Let me ask you viewers at home: do YOU want to here a joke?"

"John Holliday's entire existence as a whole. This man reeks of trying to hard to be 'cool.' He throws in mythological creatures as a way to spice up his pathetic life, to try and make people give two shots about him in the ring."

"But let me tell you something, Holliday. Mythological creatures, such as vampires and your own 'Lady Seras' - if that is her and not some shitty animation prop to further the act - they're just that. Myths. Like Hercules. Like Daedalus and Icarus. Like the Underworld. You know what the myths I just describe have in common? They all have one thing in common: they all involve a god."

"And let me tell you right now, if this was a mythological universe, allow me to tell you that I am your God, and I am going to make you fucking KNEEL to me in that ring. Pro tip: don't keep focusing on Gilly when you're going to get your ads whipped by yours truly in that ring."

"But let's be real here. Whenever you're not trying to add your bullshit figures into your promos to try and jazz things up, you turn on a camera, say a good, ten sentences? Even then, it can be boiled down to this:"

"U're a bitch!!1! Bwahahaha u fukin anoying bitch im gona beat u so bad lmao"

"Ugh, I can already feel my brain cells committing suicide one by one. Do you see what you do to me? You hurt my brain when I try to trash talk you because you're just so fucking stupid. But I'll give the special child his due props here, at least you've said something, unlike our OTHER opponent."

"Fuck you, Drake. You're a waste of oxygen that doesn't deserve to even be in the same ring as myself. Why the hell are you still employed? Do every single worker and fan out there, and hop into a bathtub with an unplugged toaster."

The camera fades to black.

~~FIN~~