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Centurion · (12-31-2019)

Jocelyn: Alright, fuckers! Try to keep up!

(It had been a long time since Centurion attended a party such as this. In his prime wrestling days, when he was at the top of the business world, his New Years Eve parties consisted of fancy champagne, women in expensive dresses, exotic locations. It was all luxury, especially during prime party season.

The past few years, however, Centurion had spent his New Years alone, watching the ball drop and toasting to another year above ground with a bottle of Molsom before passing out on his couch. A sad existence, but one that many others around the world were also experiencing.

This year, however, was neither luxurious nor lonely. It was something straight out of a college movie.

We open up on the beach of Wildwood, New Jersey. There, we see several tents set up, with a band playing on a stage in one of them. A crowd of folks are scattered about, with a few fires lit in firepits around the beach. Everyone is wearing jackets or hoodies - it's only about 50 degrees, and the night hasn't even fallen yet - but no one seems bothered - there is plenty of alcohol to go around and keep people warm.

The voice of the foul mouthed Brit is the loudest among them all, as she stands at a table under one of the tents. Across the table from here is a younger guy, likely in his early 20's, looking like every frat douche in New Jersey. He has a giant, snug grin on his face as he stares down Jocelyn Camden.

In front of both of them are five red Solo cups, filled part way with some sort of lager. They are balancing on the edge of the table in preparation of a game known as "Flip Cup". The frat douche is surrounded by other frat douches, while Jocelyn is flanked by her wife Allison, as well as other, nondescript female party goers. A third person stands at the far end of the table, looking down at the two competitors.)

Person: Three, two, one...GO!

(As the word "Go!" is said, both competitors grab their first cup of beer. Jocelyn downs hers very quickly, sets the cup upside down on the edge of the table, and flips it with her finger, getting it to land right side up on the first try. She repeats the process down the line, drinking and flipping all five cups while the frat boy struggles to flip his first one. He stands in awe as the ladies cheer and Jocelyn throws her arms into the air.)

Jocelyn: I'm a fuckin' GOD!

(Elsewhere at the party, a familiar face arrives - Erin Morgan, the fiance of Nellie Cortinovis, with a few of her friends. They are all holding several bags of food - McDonalds bags, Five Guys, all food that's pretty cheap and horrible for you. Those within eyeshot immediately begin to celebrate as Erin and her friends toss the bags of food onto a table.

A clapping Nellie walks to Erin with a giant smile on her face. Erin hands her a McDonalds bag before sharing in a kiss. Others swarm table like vultures, but Nellie calmly leaves the tent in a calm manor.

Nellie takes the bag of food toward one of the fire pits - one closer to the ocean and somewhat isolated from the rest of the party. There, standing next to the fire and looking out into the ocean is Centurion with two cups in his hand. He looks pensive as he stares off into the distance. His gaze is broken as Nellie taps him on the shoulder with the McDonald's bag. Centurion smiles as he hands one of the cups to Nellie and the two of them sit down.)

Centurion: There isn't a wrestling trainer in the world who wouldn't beat the shit out of my for eating all this nasty food.

Nellie: There isn't a wrestling trainer in the world who would put up with you anyway.

(Nellie hands Centurion the bag, and Centurion just smiles as he digs into the bag and pulls out a Big Mac. He checks the tag on it.)

Nellie: No onions, just like you asked. I had to let the workers know that I needed a special order for an old man who gets gassy when he eats onions.

Centurion: That's not true at all! I just don't like onions!

Nellie: Oh, so you're just naturally gassy?

Centurion: That's not gas, that's just Old Man Smell.

(Nellie laughs as Centurion takes a bite of his hamburger. He looks back at the ocean, then back at Nellie and grins. Nellie grabs a container of chicken nuggets and some fries, but stops and looks confused as he sees Centurion grinning.)

Nellie: What?

Centurion: I'm just...thinking.

Nellie: Don't do too much of that, you'll get a headache.

Centurion: I'm just thinking about this year. How crazy 2019 was. If you told me at the beginning of this year that by year's end, I'd be eating fast food with my daughter on the beach, I would have said you were crazy. The steps that had do be taken from then to how, and just how we got here...it's incredible, if you think about it.

Nellie: You're entire life has been about adapting and changing. You taught me how to do it. You taught others how to do it. Now, you're relearning it yourself. It's not incredible...it's what makes you, you.

(Nellie tosses some fries into her mouth as Centurion reflects on those words. The two continue to eat, and after a few minutes, Erin and Allison walk to the two of them, with a drunken Jocelyn walking between them, being held up by the two of them. They get to Centurion and Nellie and let Jocelyn goes, and she immediately face plants into the sand.)

Allison: This is going to be a long night.

Centurion: It's going to be a long life. You chose this, remember. It's not like you didn't have enough warning.

Allison: Yeah.

(Allison kneels down next to Jocelyn and lifts her head out of the sand. Jocelyn gets a huge drunken grin on her face as she looks at Allison, unable to keep her head up on her own.)

Allison: You're lucky I love you.

(Allison kisses Jocelyn's forehead and let's go of her head, causing Jocelyn's face to go back into the stand. Allison stands up and dusts herself off.)

Allison: This is some party. You put this on every year?

Nellie: Erin and I, yeah. The bar scene here gets pretty nuts, so we decided to do our own thing. People throw in a few bucks, and we make the most of it.

Allison: I really like the idea. There's no pressure, there's no expectations. Just come as you are and enjoy the night.

Erin: That's the vibe of the Wildwood queer scene. Be who you are, live as you are, and love one another. It's pretty amazing to live life to its fullest when you're just focused on bringing positivity to the world.

(Centurion looks around at those near him - his sister, his daughter, his future daughter-in-law, and a passed out Jocelyn Camden. He thinks about the year that just was, and the year ahead of him. He takes his cup and raises it into the sky.)

Centurion: To living as you are into the new decade.

------Start The Year Right------

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Alright, time to pull back the curtain a little bit.

A week or so ago, the faceless conglomerate known as "XWF Management" contacted all of the champions in the federation. We were told we would all be booked to defend our titles in Chamber matches on Christmas Day, but because of that, we were given the option to take the following group of shows off, as a way to "rest" following the supposed brutal schedule we would have to face over the Holidays.

I declined their offer. It was generous, but let's be honest - I knew I wasn't going to be in good bad of shape following my match. Sure, Robbie Bourbon turned out to be a bigger challenge than I initially thought, but comparatively speaking, it wasn't that difficult of match. Not compared to some of the blood baths and hour long marathons I've had to run this year. And since I have nothing better to do after the first of the year, I said "fuck it, book me anyway".

After informing management of my desire to be booked, I was given a message saying "well, if the champion is fighting, he might as well put his belt on the line." That's fair. Unless I was in some throw away tag match, it only makes sense for the Hart Title to be defended if I openly and enthusiastically accept a match. Besides, with all the other champions taking a night off, it would be a good crowd pleaser and something to draw ratings. I can dig it. Absolutely, put the belt on the line.

So, who do I get? Who is the challenger who gets to step up and take a swing at the belt? Is it Chris Chaos getting his one on one title match? Did Vita Valenteen accept my challenge and decide to move up our match? Maybe a new opponent, like Tristan Slater or Zane Norrison is stepping up and getting an opportunity to shine. I was really excited to check out the card when I heard the show had been booked.

And then I saw my opponent...

Peter. Gilmour.

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I'm not even mad. I mean, I know I should be. I was just railing against unworthy competitors not too long ago, and if anyone is the pure definition of unworthy, it's Gilmour. I called out Baron Von Hugendong for skipping the line, saying there is a long list of competitors who are more worthy than he is to receive a Hart Title shot. That list does not include Peter Gilmour. Gilmour wouldn't make any of my lists, except for maybe "List Of People I Wish Would Fuck Off Into The Sun Forever."

But this was going to happen eventually. Since the moment I came back and saw that somehow Gilmour lucked his way into a Universal Title, I knew I was going to have to fight this prick sooner or later. As Unknown Soldier decided to bring Gilmour back into relevance, I realized the answer to that was "sooner."

By the way, fuck you once again, Soldier. Fuck you for giving Gilmour the opportunity to bathe in the spotlight instead of roasting in the dumpster fire like he belongs. And fuck you Engineer for keeping this festering bag of trash around and allowing him to even glance at the Universal Title. I get that you both wanted a lackey that you can bully and push around, but you're better off finding a hobo at a gas station than lugging Gilmour around with you.

"Oh!" I hear you saying. "Gilmour is an extreme icon! He tells people to suck his dick! He beat Tristan Slater!" First of all, I'm ten times the competitor Tristan Slater is, and if he has a problem with my saying that, he knows where to find me. Secondly, "Xtreme Icon" is shorthand for "he can't do shit in the ring so he had to hit people with stuff". Third, I really don't give a fuck how many people laugh at Gilmour. The problem is, Gilmour doesn't know it's a joke. He thinks you all actually like him. He thinks he's actually a decent wrestler. And he's not. He really is not.

Why else do you think folks like Engineer keep him close? It's because they know he is no threat to them. Engineer doesn't have to worry about losing the Universal Title to Peter Gilmour because Gilmour stabbed him in the back. That's why it's Gilmour that's with him, instead of...well, literally anyone else. Hell, I'd believe Boris is a worthy contender for the top belt before I'd believe Gilmour had any shot.

I will say, though, part of the reason I'm really looking forward to this is because I get to expose a lot about Gilmour. I get to expose his WGWF history. If you ask Gilmour, he will tell you that the WGWF was a horrible place that didn't appreciate his talent, and so he left to go back to the XWF, where he could find "good competition." In reality, Peter Gilmour was fired from the WGWF, and the entire roster tossed him into a dumpster and pushed it out of the arena as a way to show him his true place in the world. Seriously, that happened. Embarrassed and humiliated, Gilmour crawled to Shane

, the curator of stupid shit, and he instantly fell in love with the dope. That's the only reason he's even employed right now.

Oh, by the way Gilly, you never gave me a "thank you" for your incredibly brief moment in the sun over there. Remember being put in a World Title match? Remember the fast count that allowed you to touch the World Title, even for a second? You're welcome. I did it to try and embarrass Jocelyn Camden. It didn't work - Ranma reversed the call, and Camden went on to kick my ass, and you..well, we already discussed what happened to you.

I know you, Gil. I know you're too God damn stupid to realize how unmatched you are here. Some of my opponents, they talk and talk about how they're going to beat me, but in the end, they know, at the very least, it's going to be one hell of an upward battle. But you? In your head, you think you already have this match won. You already have a spot picked out on your...mantle? Coffee table? Tent flap? I don't know your living situation, but still, you fully expect to be the XWF Hart Champion come January 9th. And that is a combination of sad, hilarious, and frightening.

It's sad because it means you've learned absolutely nothing in your over ten year career in this business. It's hilarious because even those closest to you - even those who claim to be your friends - know you're going to get absolutely mullered in this match. And it's frightening because it means the XWF clearly has no concussion protocol or mental health evaluation.

Oh, and come to find out, this isn't some ordinary match where I can beat Gil in less than two minutes. It's a Falls Count Anywhere match! You know what that means, Peter? It means the referee can't stop this match, even after I dump your ass into Loch Morar. I know, I know, "Xtreme Icon" and all that shit, but this doesn't help you at all. Regardless of whether it's a tradition Catch-As-Catch-Can style match, or a "Flaming Explosive Cage Of Death Gas" match, I'm going to win. The more stipulations they add, the longer they stretch it out, and the more stuff I get to do to you. And trust me, Gilberg - I have several years of frustrations to unleash on you.

I'm going to let everyone know right now - if you're hoping for a fun, compelling match, you're going to be disappointed. This isn't some tough battle between two great warriors. This is going to be one dude kicking the shit out of another dude for close to a half hour. If that's your style, then you're going to love Warfare...you're a sick and twisted person, but you're going to enjoy it none the less.

This is the first event of 2020. A new year, a new decade, a new era. And how do we celebrate? By seeing a bloodied Gilmour wash up on the shores of Scotland. Happy New Year indeed.

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