Marf is once again slumped at the tiny bar of the Narrow Longue. Fast Eddie walks over to him to attempt to get him to leave since it is the end of the night. He approaches his new favourite customer while jingling his keys in his left hand. Marf raises his head slightly and looks up at Fast Eddie. He takes a slow look around and notices the place is completely empty other than the two of them.
C’mon mate, the night has escaped us once again. How ‘bout a ride to the bus stop fella?
Marf eyes the overweight bartender while staying completely still. Fast Eddie fumbles with his keys and winds up dropping them. While he bends over to scoop them up, Marf suddenly springs to life and flies over the counter. He surprises Fast Eddie and holds him in a tight headlock while wrenching the keys away from him.
Sorry pal, nothing personal…actually, fuck that, it’s a little personal. Were you auditioning for a shitty movie role as the wise, fat fuckin’ barkeep? Learn to just shut the fuck up once in a while, Christ…
Marf drags Fast Eddie along as he makes his way out of the quaint little bar that had never seen this type of drama before. Marf kicks open the front door and pulls Fast Eddie through and they exit to the parking lot. With only one car in the entire lot, Marf has an easy time finding Fast Eddie’s car. Marf makes his way over, still dragging him along. He opens the trunk and throws Fast Eddie inside. Marf stares down at Fast Eddie in the trunk except his face has once again changed. Staring back at him is Damien’s face instead. Marf stumbles back for a second in shock and then shakes his head in disbelief and goes to slam the trunk close.
Locking me in here and running from your problems yet again? They’re gonna catch up to you sooner or later…
Marf shuts the trunk quickly and makes his way into the driver’s seat. He slams the door and starts up Fast Eddie’s car. As he begins to pull out of the parking lot he pauses as he can still hear inaudible yelling from the trunk of the car. Marf closes his eyes and questions himself briefly before turning around and opening them. He jumps as he sees Damien now sitting in the passenger seat beside him.
Where we headed, boss?
Marf snarls in response and turns back to the road, finally pulling out of the lot and speeding off. He does his best to ignore what he believes to be a stress induced apparition seated next to him as the snow begins to come down heavily all around the speeding car. Annoyed at being ignored, Damien grabs Marf’s head and slams his face off the steering wheel. Marf’s nose explodes with blood while he swerves and winds up off road.
…the fuck!?
You can’t run forever…
Marf desperately fights with the wheel but it’s too late as he skids through the snow. The car knicks the side of a large tree trunk before spinning and colliding with a snow bank. The angle causes the car to flip up in the air and then rolls several times before landing against another tree. Marf manages to unbuckle his seatbelt and slowly crawl out the broken windshield. He goes to stand up but collapses in the snow with his vision blurring. Marf pulls himself back up and looks shocked.
The snow has turned into sand and dirt. The trees were now replaced by the coliseum. The furious snow storm was now simply a pissed off dragon. Marf gives his head a shake while getting up, standing with the other two gladiators about to get deep fried. The dragon stands still directly in the middle of the huge arena. Behind him the massive doors remain open and Marf notices they are not being closed. The beast growls from deep within it’s belly and some smoke escapes through the dragon’s nostrils.
Follow me, stay close to it so you don’t get burned!
Why are we taking orders from you?
Shut up and move! I dunno why but I trust him with everything!
…..tap the brakes, Jesus…
The three gladiators race up to the dragon as it just misses them with a burst of flames. They each take a swing and hit it in the leg before ducking and moving to the other side of the huge beast. They are able to copy this maneuver twice more before the dragon roars and swings it’s mighty tale. They all manage to dive out of the way just in time. The female gladiator is up first and immediately takes off towards the massive doors that are still open. Marf in the other gladiator look at her go in shock.
The fuck are you goin!?
She keeps beating her feet while yelling back to him.
Sorry, I’m a shitty coward and I do shitty, cowardly things! It’s not you it’s me! Good luck and fuck you!
What the fuck!?
Shit, I kinda wanted to fuck her after all this…ah well, bros before hoes right?
Marf looks over in disgust as the male gladiator puts a hand on Marf’s shoulder ever so tenderly. Fuuuuuck this!Marf turns and uses his sword to slash the gladiator from his wrist to his elbow in one quick motion. The man stumbles backwards, holding out his arm while blood quickly flows from the gaping wound. He cries out in horror and falls to his knees while the dragon stops and looks down at him. It stops his screams short once a burst of flames engulf him. The crowd loses their minds yet again and it is deafening.
Marf uses the distraction to climb up the dragon using it’s scales. No sooner has the beast melted the other gladiator into crispy fried shit when Marf raises his sword and jams it into the dragon’s head with all his force. The monster at once begins roaring and shooting off short bursts of flames, sending fire balls into the psychotic crowd. Marf rolls down the side of the dragon and makes a run for the open doors. The beast shoots off one last, long stream of flames that basically lights the entire coliseum on fire before it succumbs to the death blow. Marf dives through the doors just as an earth rattling explosion goes off.
Fuck medieval times…
As Marf starts to pull himself up he shivers, realizing he is covered in snow now. He has to blink a few times and really look around before his vision helps him understand where he is. Back in the snow, back in Vancouver. As he surveys the flipped, mostly destroyed car he comes across the trunk. It is ajar and as Marf comes around it he can see inside. Fast Eddie is crumpled up inside, looking a helluva lot more like Dead Eddie. His body is slumped facing down but his head is completely turned around and facing Marf. The neck is clearly broken far beyond repair. The frozen grimace on Fast Eddie’s dead face begins to burn itself into Marf’s memory.
…What the fuck have I done?
Marf wastes no time as he pulls Fast Eddie’s broken body out of the trunk and moves it to the front of the car. Marf sets the body up in a way to make it look like a one person car accident. With the growing blizzard increasing, Marf doesn’t care about his foot prints, trudging away from the scene as we fade out.
~Fin~
A jail cell is freedom from the pain in my home.
Hatred passed on, passed on and passed on.
A world of violent rage,
But it's one that I can recognize.
Having never seen the color of my father's eyes.
Yes, I dwell in hell, but it's a hell that I can grip.
I tried to grip my family,
But I slipped.
To escape from the pain in an existence mundane.
I gotta nine, a sign, a set and now I gotta name.
Read my writing on the wall,
No-one's here to catch me when I fall.
Caught between my culture and the system, genocide!
Read my writing on the wall,
No-one's here to catch me when I fall.
If ignorance is bliss, then knock the smile off my face…
We can already hear the slow clap before Marf even comes into view. He looks exceptionally unenthusiastic despite his applause. Marf fakes a smile and gives a wave as we begin.
Well would ya fuckin’ look at that, my good buddy Johnny Cage Coleman actually showed up! And this motherfucker actually had the audacity to claim he doesn’t need to cut a promo. I mean don’t get me wrong, I as well as many others I’m sure definitely have no issues missing out on listening to you drone on for three and a half minutes. But give me a fuckin’ break, you fell into a fluke title reign for a belt you lost before they had even changed the name plate. You think one little promo about your brief accomplishment turned failure redeems you?
In case you just missed it, I said you fucking lost that title, right away. If you’re so good in the damn ring, you should still be holding the Xtreme title, not chasing it with two other guys well ahead of you in said chase. You should be working your fucking ass off to prove what you did wasn’t a fluke. That you deserve to even be a part of this match and this pay per view in general. You signed a contract to wrestle? Good for fuckin’ you, when do you intend on actually doing that? So far you surprised a guy in a hallway. When you decided to wrestle your reign abruptly ended.
Your first reign didn’t prove a fucking thing but keep believing pal, someone has got to. And it sure as hell isn’t going to be me, the fans or anyone else in the locker room. You’ve done more in two months than my entire tenure? Get fucked, you don’t have multiple title reigns. You weren’t in high profile matches with Alias, Doc, the Bastards or Betsy. You fluked your way to a shitty title run that was more disappointing than Dean Rose’s dirt on Jennifer Love Hewitt. And you’ve done NOTHING to change the perception that you’re miles out of your league. Just remember something fuckhead…
Marf leans closer because clearly this shit is serious.
I earned my opportunity for this match. You got dropped into it because they fuckin’ felt bad for you.
Marf makes a quick cutting motion as though to signal being done with poor Johnny Cage. Or whatever his name is. Who cares, it’s not like he’s wearing five hundred dollar sunglasses…Asshole.
Fuck that guy, I’m gonna talk about my pal Bam Bam. A guy worried about not getting noticed. Except, people did notice you Bam. You turned some heads when you beat Jimmy Caedus. I have no problem admitting that was a huge feat. My problem is how fast you pissed everything away. Have another beer and pour one out for your already dying career. Do you really think anyone else sees you as a runaway freight train coming into this match? Time to shake away those alcoholic fantasies loose Bam. You’re nothing more than a toy train, circling a nonexistent Christmas tree desperately waiting for a gift to be bestowed upon you.
You’re just another self entitled fuckwit, wasting space of the roster. Been a while since anyone has failed so spectacularly with a title but lucky for all of us, here you are Bam. I don’t know what’s more annoying about you, stealing shitty watered down beer slogans or stealing Charlie’s shtick. Oh sorry, you said Goldie instead of Goldi so it’s totally original. How many beers deep were you when you came up with that gem? And speaking of how many beers, how fucking plastered were you when you had the thought that the fans adore me!?
Marf can’t help himself and starts grinning at the humour of it.
I give you some props though, that was pretty fuckin’ funny. Almost as funny as you thinking this match is your story and your time to shine. Spoiler alert, you’re about to fall flat on your pimply face. There will be no redemption for Bam. All there will be is disappointment in your future. Disappointment from Chris Page. I can only assume he was plastered when agreeing to have anything to do with you. Disappointment from the Exiles that you’re out there dragging their name through the mud and shit. Disappointment from yourself because oh no, you failed again.
Uh oh, he’s leaning forward again shit must be getting serious.
And of course, disappointment from the fans. Because they had to actually sit and watch a grown man shit himself after yours truly dropped them on their fucking head. Drink up, Bam.
Marf makes a cheers gesture before sighing and now shaking his head.
And of course those two shitbags bring us to the top shitbag himself. Reggie, fuck man, for a fleeting second I thought I saw it there. A little bit of real fire in ya. But of course you immediately cooled it off when you went right back to the same old boring shit. Talking about my past and Lycana. Oh fuck, I said her name oh no. Fucking sue me. You claim you don’t give a shit Reg, but you managed to reference my times with her not once not twice but thrice! Seems to me you care quite a bit. And if that’s not the case, what could it be then?
Probably that you have no other god damn material. That’s all you fuckin’ got. Maybe I’ll get lucky and my final promo here will help bring out some actual rage from you. Then perhaps you will be able to stand toe to toe with me and back up your hollow words. Deep down you know you’re gonna need every weapon available to even have a chance at beating me. Make all the pointless wolf jokes you want Reg, they won’t save you or your title that I’m about to take. The Xtreme title has been tarnished enough from the three of you fuckboys.
Now I’m coming to take it. To save it from all of your mediocrity. To take as many pounds of flesh as I fucking feel like from all of you. To earn yet another win on pay per view in front of millions. Do any of you three even know what earn means? Fuck off, I don’t care! Because I’m walking into Fire and Ice to lay all three of your filthy carcasses on the mat and I’m walking out as the new fucking Xtreme champion. And the best part? I’m doing the whole damn thing by my fucking self. I dare any of you to try and fucking stop me.
Marf stands up while his chest is heaving and the blood is rushing through his veins. We fade out as he continues that famous sneer into the camera lens.
2x Xtreme Champion
2x Television Champion
2x Freestyle Champion
5x Heavy Metal Weight Champion
Member of Charlie’s Carnies
![[-]](https://xwf99.com/images/portal2/collapse.gif)
The following 5 users Like Marf's post:
