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B.O.B. D · (05-25-2019)

Running was always a difficult thing for me. During football in high school, we ran at the end of every practice to improve our conditioning. Coaches timed us and if we didn't finish in the specified time for each group of people(fast, medium, and slow), we'd have to go again until we could. While I was never the 400 pounds offensive lineman who NEVER made the time, I wasn't proud to say I WAS the 250 pounds defensive lineman who BARELY made the time.

But here I was, 'flying' down the sidewalk, working up a sweat that would surely make my teammate, Lacklan, shriek in horror of how gross I was. But it had to be done, my fat ass had to do every little thing possible to gain an upper hand for War Games. While I wasn't having any fun, I knew the reward for whipping my butt into slightly better shape would be worth it, just as it was with football.

As I did my own version of 'running', which consisted of me jogging at a pace that only slowed over time, I thought about reliability. I was doing this so I could rely on myself to step into the cage on Sunday and not let myself down. It'd be a simple enough task to gain my Universal Title shot if only relying on myself, but that wasn't the case. The fact was I depended on my teammates as much as, if not MORE than, myself. As far as I was concerned, this wasn't my shot to earn. While theoretically it was, being just 1 out of 5 people meant I only REALLY factored into 20% of the equation.

The thought of relying on others to help me achieve my goal was frightening. My past was clouded with plenty of times I relied on another person, only to have them let me down. Whether it was a girl outside of the ring or a Tag Team partner inside, having someone else bear the weight of the world with me usually ended in disappointment for myself. Not to say that I HAVEN'T been successful, though.

Me and my Tag Team partner, Chance, won the Tag Team Championship for my short lived fed, the WLFC. I also won the NWF and WWF World Tag Team Titles with Slim and Seth Flash respectively. While I had tastes of those successes, they all eventually ended. My league folded and we retired the belts as champions, but me and my former partner are no longer friends. The other 2 championship reigns were quite short, something that was bound to happen. Those partnerships were just random pairings that managed to hit a stroke of luck and take advantage of it. But as we all know, you can only get lucky so many times before the truth comes out. While Slim ended up betraying me, you'd be surprised that the team of Seth Flash and I didn't work out. Both being former World Champions, you would've thought it'd be impossible to take us down. But the fact is, if teammates don't have chemistry together, they just aren't gonna be successful in the long term.

Sunday isn't about the long term, though. Team Big D doesn't have to win a match and then stay together to continue our success. No, all we have to do is gel just enough to be victorious ONE time.
Then Lacklan can go back to being the Queen of XWF on Anarchy, continuing to stay Federweight Champion because everyone is too scared to touch her.
Peter Gilmour can take his already guaranteed Xtreme Title shot, win it, and show the world why I chose him for this team.
Rain can go back to being a confused gay man tempted into sin by his sister, knowing he proved to everyone else he wasn't a weak link of my team.
And Bearded War Pig can go back to defending the country like the true American Hero he is.

I didn't choose my four team member's because I expect all of us to work fluidly together. It wasn't like I thought Rain and Lacklan would work well because they're both homosexual, or that me and Gilmour would mesh well because we've both been World Champions; no, I picked who I thought was the best individual available to me and ran with them.

That's the thing about this match, while everyone is on a team, it doesn't mean we have to work as one. As long as each of us does what we're best at, everything else will come together. I know I can rely on them to do the absolute best they can, and as long as we all do that, I'm gonna be Number 1 Contender for the Universal Championship, guaranteed.

At this point my exercise had become a walk. I was completely wore out, my body didn't feel capable of moving more than .0001 miles per hour. My heart and soul wanted it to, I NEEDED it to. There was no way in hell I was gonna make it through the entire War Games match without better conditioning.

'Man, for once in my life I actually feel bad for Lacklan.'

There those words were, again, repeating through my head. They may have been the words of Centurion, but I knew deep down it was also the thought of the entire XWF lockeroom. I was a bad leader for picking the team I did, and the team was shit because of who they were. According to everyone but myself. And even though I knew they were only the words of a veteran jealous his time was over, it still drove me to get better. I was back to a sprint again, feeding off of the hate me and my team had been receiving the past several weeks. The burn was beginning to feel good, almost orgasmic, when thinking about what a victory would prove to all those naysayers.

After running for what felt like forever, I came to a stop outside of a bar. It wasn't anything fancy, but it seemed like the perfect place to catch my breath and maybe enjoy A brew. I walked in and saw there wasn't very many patrons at all, something that may have worked out in my favor. The last thing I needed was an angry fan to stab me before my the biggest match of my career.

"Hey, aren't you Big D?" the bartender asked as I approached. He did the typical bartender move and set a napkin in front of me. "What'll it be?"

"Just a glass of Blue Moon," I responded. "And yeah, I'm Big D."

The bartender smiles, grabs a glass, and begins to pour my drink. I glance around the place, seeing the various TVs with a different sport playing on each one. There was also the usual sports bar memorabilia all over the walls, from signed jerseys to pictures of famous athletes that had a beer in the establishment. As I turned away from the walls, the bartender was standing in front of me, setting my beer on the napkin. I reached for my wallet, but the guy refused

"When you're a famous athlete, first one's always free," he said with a smile. The guy had quite the Boston accent, despite us being nowhere near the city.

"Thanks," I responded with appreciation as I took a sip.

"Don't you have a big match comin' up?" he asked, eyeing my beer. "Might not be smart to get wasted so close to it, ya know?"

"Oh, I'm not gonna get wasted," I laughed, setting the glass back down. "Just needed an icy beverage after all the training." As I said this, I realized I was probably too disgusting and sweaty to be out in public. "Sorry about my appearance, I've been running non-stop in preparation for War Games."

"Apology not accepted," the bartender quipped. "Because it wasn't necessary." He gives me a look, desiring approval for his stupid comment, which I give a faint grin to. "You're gonna have your hands full come Sunday, so I don't blame ya for all the trainin'."

"Do you watch?" I asked. It was probably a stupid question, if he knew who I was, he HAD to watch.

"I watch enough to know you got your hands full with that team of yours," he snarked. I didn't respond at first, taking in the criticism I had grown used to at this point. He could tell his words weren't welcome, as he was quick to rephrase what he meant. "All's I'm sayin' is while ya got some talent, yous also got some dead weight. Ya know, when it rains it pours."

The guy gave me a wink, trying to not completely drag my team through the mud. It didn't matter to me what everyone thought of Rain, the truth is he was just as equal part of the team as the others. Regardless of what people saw or didn't see in him.

"It could be worse," I responded with another gulp of Blue Moon. "I could have Ned's team." The bartender's mouth dropped open in shock, before realizing something; giving me another wink and nudging me with his elbow.

"Oh, I get it," he said. "You can't bash your team because you'd be bashing yourself, too."

"No," I retorted sternly. "I legitimately feel I'd be worse off with anyone on Ned's team....." The bartender seemed shocked by my response.

"That beer must already be messin' wit yous," he chuckled. "I mean, I get believing in Gilmour's super dick or Lacklan's tight ass, but Rain? Bearded War Pig? I'm not even convinced that guy served this country. You can't honestly sit there and tells me you wouldn't take someone like Mastermind or Thad Duke over Rain."

"I am," I once again had to state, getting pretty irritated at this point. I wasn't sure if it was my anger or the fact I had worked out so hard, but I was starting to feel a bit light headed. He'd probably contribute that to my defense of my teammates, but it definitely was not. "I think Mastermind is overrated. When I first arrived in XWF, I immediately put him on a pedestal. 'Oh, this guy is Xtreme Champion, he HAS to be one of THE top guys!' But then I waited to see him in action, REAL action, and what happened? The days went by, the weeks passed, and all he ever did was AVOID stepping into the ring. He just hung out backstage, always on his toes to ensure no-one catches him off guard and takes his title."

"Yeah, but come on, I'm sure you can respect that."

"Oh I can, to an extent," I defended myself. "But what happened when he FINALLY stepped between the ropes? He lost to that zombie freak, a wrestler I would've expected someone of Mastermind's 'reputation' to put away EASILY. And then Zane goes on to lose it, just like that! Shows MM didn't lose it to someone of worth, Huh?"

The bartender nodded in agreeance, listening to my reasoning. "Not to mention," I continued. "He definitely held that belt for over 3 week, yet he was never smart enough to get his 24/7 briefcase he was rightfully entitled to."
I paused for a moment to take another sip of my drink. "Truth be told, I don't want someone that stupid or cowardly to be apart of ANYTHING branded with my name."

"Well, hey, I guess I can't really argue with ya," the bartender said, eyeing my half empty beer. "But what about Duke or Luna, or even EDWARD? I mean, not to piss ya off or anything, but that dude beat you."

As I took another sip, I thought about EDWARD. It was true, out of everyone on Team Ned Kaye, EDWARD was the only one I ever faced, unsuccessfully at that. This was a hard fact for me, because when I arrived in XWF I thought he was an absolute joke. And yet that joke has a victory over me. I must've been stressing too much, as I was feeling even worse. It was almost like I wasn't inside my own head.

"Did you watch that match?" I asked, fighting off the feeling. "Did you not see how I had him pinned on top of a car, and he happened to fall through the roof? Saying he beat me is just as bad as saying Mastermind defended his title by hiding. PA-leeeeeease."

"Well that's fair," the bartender responded with a nod. "But come on, you can't discredit Luna Hightower. You teamed with her for God's sake, there had to be a reason for that."

"There was," I answered as I finished my beer. "Because management set the match up that way. When I saw the card for that match, I was confused. I'd never heard of her and really had no desire to team with her. And then when the time came, we didn't even HAVE a match because our opponents were locked out of the building! As I've said before, I wouldn't be surprised if SHE was the one who did it. But I can't blame her, had we actually faced the Perfect Storm, she probably would've cost us the match anyway. In the same way she's gonna cost Ned War Games and his Universal Title shot."

"And then there's Thad Duke," I continued. "This match is bigger than this kid, just like Ned's match against Robert Main was too big for HIM. Thad needs to do the right thing and step back so someone more capable can.......... step up.........."

My condition had reached a point I could no longer fight. I tried to stay focused on the bar, fixing my eyes on my empty glass. It did no good, as my arms went limp, causing me to knock the glass to the floor, shattering it. The whole time the bartender kept his eyes locked on me, smiling at my predicament. Next thing I knew, I had fallen off the bar stool and the room was spinning. Slowly everything faded to black, with me paralyzed on the floor helpless.

I awoke, God knows how long later, in a place I was unfamiliar with. It was hard to make out with my eyes not focused yet, but it seemed like some sort of warehouse. To my dissatisfaction I was sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair, my hands tied behind my back. As my eyes began to adjust I could see a figure standing in front of me, with various shadows behind it.

"Wakey, wakey....."

The shadow spoke to me, taunting the fact I was at its mercy. It also confirmed exactly what I had feared: the bartender was responsible for my condition. With how he was constantly eyeing my drink, it was now apparent he drugged it.

"Do you really think you're better than Notorious Ned Kaye?" he asked, walking into the light, revealing himself. "You REALLY think your pathetic excuse for a team stands a chance against our Indy darling?"

"N-not if I'm t-t-tied up and can't fight him," I managed to speak.

"That's the point," the bartender smirked before disappearing back into the darkness.

"S-so what, you're gonna keep me from show-showing up?" I asked, fearing that very scenario. I had worked to hard to let some crazy fan prevent me from making it to War Games. Unfortunately, I wasn't in any position to stop him. "I may not respect Ned, bu-but I can tell you HE'D want to have the chance to fight me f-f-fairly......"

The bartender walked back into my view, the shadows following behind. I could now see the crazy bartender wasn't the only person in this abandoned building, there were at least 10 other accomplices. The feeling of dread began to fill my body from my head all the way down to my toes. For once in my life I was helpless and in a bad spot, regretting ever stepping foot into that bar.

"Well what Ned doesn't know won't hurt him," the bartender sadistically remarked, reaching for something out of view. The fear I had been feeling turned to anger. Everything I had done, all the wins, the pain I forced my body to endure, it was all gonna be for nothing. I wasn't gonna let that happen without a fight, even if it was just verbally. I had to do ANYTHING I could.

"Listen here, Bill Cosby," I snapped at my kidnapper. "Ned Kaye is quite an athlete, but he's NOT on my level. He had his opportunity and he couldn't live up to the hype. Maybe someday he'll prove himself, but it's not gonna be Sunday. I'll die before I allow Notorious Ned Kaye to get ANOTHER title shot over me!"

The bartender began to laugh, which made his allies join in. My heart sunk at the realization I wasn't a threat to them, just a rag doll in the same way Ned was one at MY hands at Anarchy. It was almost like poetic justice.

"Oh, Ned IS gonna get his shot," the man cracked as he walked into view, revealing the object he grabbed: a knife. "Over your dead body......"

It was over, nothing I accomplished in XWF, or anywhere, mattered anymore. This guy was such a diehard Ned Kaye fan, he was willing to do ANYTHING to help his hero out; even if it meant committing murder. There was nothing I could do, the rope around my hands were tied too tight. As I watched my future murderer creep towards me, I saw my life flash before my eyes. My childhood, my high school years. All the various championships I held, from the WWF X-Division Championship to my only World Title reign. Tears filled my eyes as I thought about how I would die a one-time World Champion, a competitor people would forever question if I really deserved it. The only comfort I had was knowing I wouldn't be around to hear them questioning it anymore.

Then all of a sudden, a miracle happened. The doors to the warehouse blew open and in stormed members of Team Big D, looking like their own version of the Suicide Squad. Lacklan, Peter Gilmour, Bearded War Pig, and Rain were here to save their leader. The four of them easily dispatched of the civilians that held me hostage. The bartender stood in shock, watching his friends all go down like a Kardashian on an NBA player.

After the last of his allies was out, Lacklan approached the bartender and kicked the knife out of his hand. From each side of him, Rain and Gilmour both deliver a kick to the head, squishing his noggin between their boots. As he falls down, Sarah catches him and hits her Reverse DDT finisher, the Abyss. Peter then grabs the knife and cut me free.

"You...... you guys came for me?" I stated in complete shock. My heart was pounding harder than candy an old person gives out. "How did you find me?"

Sarah rolls her eyes.

"Well, like, first of all, I noticed that the stench of Loser Weed Smoker had gotten less, right? And then I looked around and only saw Rain being gross...and Gilly being gross...and War Piggie just kinda doing his usual gig...whatever THAT is...and realized that YOU weren't there. So then I busted out my-"

She reaches into her purse and pulls out a large and bulky phone.

"SWEET Windows Phone and activated my "Find War Games Taggie Teams Partner" ap...which you guys don't have with your loser Droid and iShit phones, obvs...and then BLAMO! Found you. You're welcome!"

"I mean, I only went for a run," I responded, rising to my feet.

"Yeah, well, you were gone longer than just a run," Peter Gilmour responded.

It didn't matter to me how or why they were there, I was just appreciative they were. Had it not been for my team, the one no-one believed in but me, I wouldn't be alive; I wouldn't make it to War Games; and I certainly wouldn't get my Universal Title shot. If I could rely on them to save my life, I certainly knew I could count on them to help us win War Games. And that ain't no story, it's the Cold Big D Truth.

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