The scene opens to Titan laying down a bright red couch. In a chair next to him his female accomplice sits, holding a large stack of cards.

“Are you familiar with the Rorschach test? I’m going to show you a few images, and I want to know what the first thing that comes to mind is. Are you ready?”

“Do it.”

“First, there’s this one:”

The woman holds up a card, and Titan begins to study it.

“It reminds us of Morbid Angel; An obese liar who couldn’t accomplish anything without someone else handing it to him and patting him gingerly on the backside.”

“I thought it looked kind of like a butterfly, to be honest. Next!”

“A cobra. This is Lazarus. A deadly snake, but without it’s poison what is it? Just another anklebiter that puffs itself up to intimidate it’s prey. We wonder if his body and head would also move independently should they ever become separated.”

“Really? Kind of looks like a dick stuck in a stack of pancakes to me. Are you sure you’re playing this game right? I’m trying to actually delve into your psyche but all you can do is sit here and talk about your match tonight. It’s starting to get annoying.”

“We can never be accused of lacking focus. Tonight, we enter the ring amidst the bottom feeders of the XWF in order to determine who will get the opportunity to become the new king of the XWF…”

“Fucking here we go…”

“We almost feel as if we should be insulted that the management of XWF would insert us into a match with the likes of TriBute, Zak Misery and Mr. Radio. We have entered the XWF to assert our dominance over the best that the company has to offer… But here we are, fighting for a shot at the crowd with a collection of jokes and fools who would never earn a shot at the king on their own. That’s where we are clearly outclassing our opponents. This match is too important to them, the stress is weighing on them. Do you think that Zak Misery will ever be offered an opportunity to face the King again? No. How about Mr. Radio? Will he ever be a realistic suitor to the crown? Never going to happen. If we so chose, we could run through every single member of the XWF’s laughable talent pool until Eli James was forced to get down on his knees and personally hand us the crown. But why wait? Perhaps this match should be better seen as a fast track to the inevitable.”


“Didn’t you already say that?”

“We know nothing of repetition or redundancy.”

“But you like, accuse people of being redundant and shit all the time.”

“The concept of hypocrisy is lost on us. We do what we want. We say want we want. We hold others to a standard unlike our own because we do not view them as worthy to share the same septic system as us. And it is time they are aware. If Steve Davids visits a toilet where we have recently expelled waste more glorious than he, he should drop to his knees and embrace the seat. He should be honored to embrace the warmth on his cheek. Tears of joy should run down his face as his lips touch every part of the seat that our ass has touched. The rest can be said for Morbid Angel, Lazarus and whatever other worthless shit decides to step into that ring with us tonight.”

“While they stand there, weeping tears of joy because they’ve been allowed to rest their faces on the same surface that our ass has touched, we will eliminate them one by one. We have no need for their admiration. We only need to run through these louts on our way to claiming the prize that they shall never be closer to. It’s sad, really, to think that the best opportunity that these fools will ever have to become the King of the XWF is already firmly clutched in our hands and is far out of their reach. Perhaps they can find some solace in second place, because they have little else to compete for. Which works out perfectly for Steve Davids, considering that’s all he’s aiming for in the first place. Pathetic.”

“Perhaps the Dimallisher was on to something after all. There isn’t an ounce of collective gravitas amongst this pathetic collection of undercrust. Steve Davids, John Austin, Morbid Angel, Lazarus… the rest, whom are not relevant enough to keep their names at the forefront of our mind, are nothing but filler. All eyes will be on us as we enter the match, that much is guaranteed. We have no equal in this match. If Lazarus thinks that we have not learned from his past trickery, he is sorely mistaken. Go on ahead, little lap dog, bring your blade along with you, we will have one bigger and sharper, and we’ll stick it in places that Eli and Sid reserve for their sad little penises. Fool us once, shame on us. Fool us twice, and we will rip your limbs off and mail them to your master as a sign of what he has in store for him.”

“And once we win tonight, Eli and Theo Pryce will have to take a step back and question whether or not the crown means enough to them to step into the ring with us. We will claim that token of superiority, and we will do so with extreme prejudice. Hearing these children bicker back and forth and start wars over a cheap piece of tin is enough to madden even the sanest of men, and it must stop. We shall claim the throne for ourselves, and the XWF will know a time of peace where the only challenges to the King are made by those too stupid to realize the futility in their attempts. And it will be the greatest period the XWF has ever seen.”

“This uh… This was supposed to just be a lighthearted little game here, chief. You weren’t supposed to get all rape and pillage-y.”

“We tire of the games. The garbage that spews forth from the mouths of these pitiful simps is revolting. We are ready for blood.”

The scene ends as Titan stands and storms out of the room, leaving the woman to look through the rest of the cards herself.

“Hey! This one looks like Rose Smith!

Are those…

Balls?”

1X - GOAT.