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Marf · (03-16-2021)

...remember...

...Remember...

...Remember...ery single th...

... I remember signing up for the XWF and having to leave behind every single thing I fucking knew. I remember having to suppress the memory of the night just days before my debut. That cold, late autumn evening where the light drizzle of rain was chilly enough to make you question if it’s actually wet snow and fall is ending. The kind of night where wet foot prints were too easy to leave behind. The type of night where bad weather opened the door to bad intentions.

It was the night of Sunday October 25th 2020. Truly just days before the debut of Marf on Warfare. I remember finding that girl on the street, the one that reminded me of my upcoming first ever opponent, Ash Quinn. Her punk rocky attitude, her tight little outfit, the way she threw herself at me. Maybe she was the Ash Quinn of prostitutes nobody will ever know now. She followed me to the seedy motel room that chilly Sunday night. That would be the last place she would ever visit while alive.

I remember her smell was intoxicating. The mixture of cigarette and multiple perfumes travelled into my nostrils and lured me in. She looked so lovely that night, her dyed obnoxious pink hair tied back in a short ponytail. The bright red lipstick showcasing those pouty lips, eagerly inviting me in. Her beautiful skin that felt so warm and right. I remember the feel of her delicious skin breaking out with goosebumps each time I ran my fingers up and down her back. The short, drawn breaths she would take each time I changed direction.

Even her first scream was able to jolt through my own body. I hadn’t felt anything like it in quite some time, it was a blessing. Finally, I could feel myself getting back on track. I had stepped back onto the path I was meant to walk. As she struggled to stop me from tying her free arm to the other bedpost I felt myself rediscovering my purpose. No matter where I went I was meant to bring misery and pain. This sad piece of flesh before me was finding that out.

I remember how hoarse her screams became when she saw me pull out the knife. I tried to explain how I’d already killed the stout man at the desk and nobody could hear her but like most, she continued screaming and crying. I pressed the knife into her perfect skin and made the right cuts, carving the proper symbol into her while she moaned in horror. Her dark red blood oozed onto my fingers and was just as warm and inviting as her skin had felt. At that point it was my turn to get goosebumps.

I slept on her corpse that night. The visions came into my dreams and were far more understandable than what they had become as of late. Taking out Ash Quinn would lead my path to the others whom enjoyed pain and suffering the way I did. My family, the Left Hand would soon appear. Nobody had to know of the woman in the motel room. I wore the wrong size shoes that night anyway. The XWF was going to pay me to go around hurting everyone in sight as long as I left them alive. As long as I didn’t forget that stipulation...

...Remember...ll was mel...

...Remember...

...remember...

Marf’s eyes flicker wildly before he blinks a few times and looks around, leaning and noticing the wall was melting around him. He turns to leave but his legs sink into the gooey floor. Marf tries to wade his way across the room to the door but continues sinking further into the floor. Marf reaches for the door but falls forward and sinks completely into the floor. He tries to swim until he feels himself drop into the air. He spins and falls onto the roof of a suburban house. Marf looks around in awe before sliding down the roof and dropping into the hedges in the front yard.

Thunder rolls through the clouds as the wind begins to pick up. Marf looks around at the trees shifting with the breeze and spots a flash of lightning off in the distance. It has an odd blue hue. Marf turns around to the house which is now a cabin. He stops and looks at it in confusion before walking up the front steps and into the brown wooden cabin. As he closes the door behind him Marf can see several people crowded around a couch in what seems to be a living room area.

Marf glares over at them for a moment and then over to what most of them are looking at. There’s a door in the middle of the floor that leads to a basement or cellar. It is chained shut though and every few minutes something is hitting it from the other side. Marf looks back to the five on the couch. A blue haired girl, a dude in a mask, two gruffy looking gentlemen and another dude in a mask. They all looked terrified at whatever was on the other side of the cellar door. Marf can’t seem to stop himself and is compelled to go to the chains and start removing them.

Easy E and Lucy Lyc: DON’T!!!

Notorious N.E.D: Seriously mang!

RL Izzo: Dat ain’t a good idea son!

Dimebag Charles: Back dat ass up!

Marf ignores them and rips the chains off. He’s about to open the door when RL Izzo tackles him to the ground. They struggle for a moment until everyone stops and looks at the cellar door slowly begin to rise. A horrifying face peeks out at them. Bloated from little cuts and marks, eyes bloodshot and black, mouth dripping with blood, the girl barely resembles a human being anymore. She looks more like one of those zombies or someone that has been possessed by...

RL Izzo: It’s a demon, yo!

Marf shoves RL Izzo off and the possessed looking girl climbs out of the cellar and pounces on him. She looks down at him while Marf backs away from them both. RL Izzo goes to scream but the girl begins vomiting an awful, caramel looking substance all over his face and into his mouth and nose. Dimebag Charles runs over and tries to pull her off but she turns and throws him back, sending him falling down the steps into the cellar. There’s a loud crack from his neck breaking as he falls and lands awkwardly. RL Izzo gets back up and then remains frozen in place.

Marf gets up and goes over to the mantle by the fireplace. He can’t stop himself from grabbing the shotgun placed on the mantle. He slowly turns and hands it to the demon girl. She turns and slowly raises the gun, pointing it at the other three on the couch. Easy E tries stepping forward and the shotgun blasts in a deafening boom. Easy E drops to the floor, bleeding out from the hole in his chest while Lucy Lyc screams and Notorious N.E.D starts crying. Marf looks over to RL Izzo, his ears still badly ringing.

RL Izzo starts shaking violently while bringing his hands up to his face. His eyes are bulging in horror as he appears to not be in control of himself. He grabs at his face and starts to rip at his own skin, peeling strips off piece by piece. Bloods starts to pour from his face and neck as he continues to tear at himself, ripping off chunks of flesh and muscle now. Lucy Lyc kicks the front door open and steps outside. A blast of lightning strikes her, evaporating her on the spot while the demon girl is pointing at her.

Notorious N.E.D cries out in shock and terror before the possessed girl turns the shotgun on him. Another ear shattering bang explodes as the shotgun goes off and blows off the head of poor Notorious N.E.D. RL Izzo finally stops making noise and collapses, pools of blood all around him. He stops moving while bleeding to death, completely unrecognizable now. Marf screams as he finds himself slowly walking over to the demon girl and uncontrollably kneeling in front of her.

Marf: No, this is not going to happen...

The demon girl glares down at Marf and moves the shotgun so that it is pressing against his forehead. She slowly cocks her head and smiles but then Marf suddenly grabs the shotgun and pulls it free from her grip. He can feel every part of his body shaking in defiance as she scowls at him with disbelief. Marf fights off the strong urge to give the gun back to her and he pumps the shotgun and turns it on her instead. He pulls the trigger and she flies backwards, slamming into the wall.

She’s hunched over but not down as Marf gets back to his feet. The demon girl slowly straightens herself up no longer has any cuts or marks of any kind on her. This takes the bloated look away from her thin face and her eyes are no longer just two black holes. Her sleek black hair falls in her face before she moves it aside and looks over at Marf with a mixture of annoyance and disbelief. She actually looks to be of Asian descent now that she’s back to normal. She marches over to Marf and slaps the gun away from him before grabbing him by the throat.

Strange Asian girl: Stop it! You do not have control here!

Marf can feel his body wanting to give in with every word she says. He can even feel himself almost go completely limp as she holds him by the neck. Her eyes flash blue for a moment and Marf feels a mighty rage rise up inside him. He recognizes something in that sudden flash of blue and regains his strength. Marf grabs hold of her by the throat now and then throws her across the room and out the window. He leaves the cabin as she gets up, wielding a massive sword. Marf runs and jumps, soaring up into the air and up into the night sky.

The Asian girl swipes at him with her sword but narrowly misses. Marf floats up higher and higher until he reaches the stars. He floats there for a moment, looking around in with a slow understanding he’s in a dream. Suddenly he begins falling at a rapid pace. It feels more like he is being sucked into an enormous hole as he screams out in terror. Marf falls at lightning speed before jolting into his body and waking up with a loud yell. It echoes into the night as he looks around in confusion.

He’s not at a motel or Lycana’s place. Or anywhere with a roof for that matter. Marf sits up in the tall grass and looks around at the forest surrounding him. He wipes at his face and notices as he pulls his hand away it’s covered in blood. Marf looks down and there’s blood all over his upper chest and chin. Both his hands and forearms are covered in thick blood as well. Marf can’t find any injuries on himself and then finally notices the mangled body lying a few feet from him. He quickly gets to his feet and starts walking away from the mess.

Marf: This is just another dream...this isn’t real...this can’t possibly be real...

Far off in the distance the sound of sirens can be heard drawing closer. Marf runs across the nearby road and into the woods on the other side. Whether they’re coming for him or not he chooses not to bother finding out. He crouches into some shorter trees and checks his pockets to find a cell phone. He pulls it out and quickly dials a number. Marf appears shocked at whoever answers before telling them to find him and abruptly hanging up on them. The sirens have faded, obviously not for Marf at all. He comes out of the woods and starts walking along the road, trying to get his bearings but cutting a promo instead...

Marf: So, this is the road to Warfare. The path to a six person tag match. The march to a small opportunity at redemption. Navigating my way through bizarre and fucked up dreams while in reality things are equally as strange and infinitely more fucked up. As fucked up as someone barring the door to a room where another person they claim not to fear is trapped. As fucked up as cheap shotting Lycana while that guy nobody is supposed to be afraid is sealed away from doing anything about it.

As fucked up as getting your brief shot in before running as hard as those flabby legs could before that non-threat of a guy splintered the door to pieces to break out and get to you. As fucked up as thinking for even a split second; Charlie Demos whatever the fuck you think you are, that you could lock me in a room and briefly get a shady one up on Lycana without the most severe of consequences? Do you have any idea at all what you’ve brought down on yourself Charles? Does your simple, below average in size brain even comprehend the cause and effect of what you did?

Marf continues down the road that seemingly goes for miles before anything but trees can be seen. He snorts and then spits a large wad of blood and snot onto the road before continuing.

Marf: The match at Warfare, it no longer matters to me now. What you pulled at Savage changed that. I no longer care if we win, lose, get counted out or disqualified. None of that matters anymore, I’m afraid not. All that matters is I get my hands on you. I don’t care about Neddy or Eddie, I only care about getting to you, Charlie. Every ounce of anger, rage, resentment, and disappointment will all be taken out on just you, Charlie. You made your choice, you didn’t just throw a rock at a wasp’s nest. You flat out knocked the nest out of the tree and stomped on it.

Then you stood and raised your arms like you already won while the swarm has only just begun. Your body will soon be overcome with pain and suffering. Your skin will be mutated with welts, bruises, scars and more. Your blood will flow like the murkiest waters of a Louisiana swamp. It will all be for you, Charlie. Even when the match ends and the officials finally pull me off whatever deformed version of you is left...well it doesn’t end there I’m afraid. Opt in to all the shows or none of them, I will come after you. Again and again. Every time you celebrate a victory, every damn time you get up from a loss, I’ll be there Charlie.

You didn’t just mess with Lycana. You didn’t just invite the wraith of the Dissentients. You fucked with the Left Hand. You can go ahead and blurt out the age old eat the left hand bullshit but when we remove your teeth you may not have such an appetite. You see Charlie, what we’ve done to the Tulas and Ashs, the Aliases and Betsys was mild at best in comparison to what’s coming for you. I won’t ever forget what you did Charlie, and quite frankly you shouldn’t either. That night on Savage altered the course of your miserable life. Fuck you Charlie.

Marf looks up and notices a sign in the distance reading “Roxxxy’s Stop ‘n Pump” coming up. He pulls his cell phone back out and sends a quick text before popping it back into his pocket. Not really professional sending a text during a promo but we’ll cut him slack. His third favourite shirt is now ruined with blood. That’s a lot to take in.

Marf: While we’re on the subject of miserable lives, what is Ned Kaye doing with his these days? Arguably one of the toughest Hart champions in recent memory, or at least that’s what his journal says. Now he’s carrying the bags of the douche that took his title from him. I want to ask what you’re thought process is but I’ll be honest, I don’t give a fuck. I don’t actually care about you at all Ned, all I care about is getting my hands on Charlie. It’s the only thing I can think about now. Just the thought of being able to rip, and tear and carve the flesh off of that ugly fucking buffoon actually makes me slightly less mad.

In fact, I’m going to come after your special little title too while I’m at it, Charlie. Even if it means having an actual match on subpar Savage, I am coming for that television title. Savage, Warfare, pay per views or even house shows, I’ll challenge for that belt simply to take it away from you. I will rip it from your filthy grasp and burn that title in front of you. Then I’ll piss on the ashes while you watch. I don’t care if I win it from you on the first try or if I have to come back, I won’t stop Charlie. You’ll have to cripple me or fucking kill me because I will just keep getting up and coming back. Ruining your future is all I care about so fuck you Charlie. And fuck you Ned.

And while we’re on the subject of ruining futures, somebody better get that Hart title off of Edgar before he completely tarnishes the belt. Seeing you with that title must fill all the little overweight dumbasses of the world with hope that it could happen to anyone. Like that brat kid in Angels in the Outfield says, it could happen. Hell you even resemble an even more alcoholic Tony Danza, it tracks. That makes me want to vomit even thinking about it to be honest. Luckily I’m far too distracted by all the things I want to do to Charlie so fuck off Eds this isn’t about you!

This is about how badly I want Wednesday to get here so I can get my hands on you, Charlie. This is about how I will beat you to a pulp. Not just on Warfare but on every XWF event you intend on being a part of. Wherever you go, give that fat neck a crank and pop a look over your shoulder. You’ll see me each and every god damn time. This is about how you took a cowardly cheapshot for your own selfish needs and will now pay dearly for it, time and time again. The clock will run out on you real soon. So fuck you, Charlie. And fuck you, Ned. And fuck you, Eds.

But most of all, fuck you Charlie Nickles.

As Marf spits out the last of his venom an old car rolls up beside him. The horn honks and Marf hops in the passenger side as we fade to black...

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