“...We would never purposefully do this to a fellow San Francisco citizen. This was a completely
isolated incident, and we’ll try to prevent things of this nature from happening again.”

Cameras click and flash as Nico walks off the stage, leaving the mic to Ophelia, who is much
better at dealing with controversies like this one. As the reporters start taking pictures as she
walks to the podium, Nico opens the doors to his office, where a crime scene lays like a
well-used rug.

“Heavy arterial spurts on the wall imply he tried to defend himself, but only tired himself out. The
attacker, most likely feeling the effects of adrenaline, then proceeded to attack ferociously,
hence the cast-off patterns on the walls, chairs, and…”

The young Forensic analyst walks up to the counter and looks back at Nico.

“...right here, where your wife would be, Mr. LaVey. Being a key witness, we’re going to have to
bring her in for questioning later.”

Nico mills over this situation in his brain.

“She’ll be open for that at maybe… 1:00 today.”

“Excellent! We’re sorry about the yellow tape. We’d recommend working from home for the next
two days or so.”

The police leave the scene, and Ophelia walks back in the office to see Nico, sitting in her office
chair, hunched over with his fingers to his lips.

“You need to be at the station by 1:00 for questioning. Hope that’s an okay time.”

“It’s fine.”

“I just want you know that i’m proud of you for that. You thought quickly, and you did the right
thing. Even if you ruined your dress.”

“I literally have 3 identical dresses. It’s not a problem. Besides, I have a perfect alibi. They found
his DNA back in your office. If he was attacked in your office like they’re saying, he would have
bled out on the way to my desk.”

Nico stands and smiles at her.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

Ophelia giggles and sits down at her desk.

Nico begins walking back to his office down the hall, walking past various police markers and
officers cleaning up before they leave. He opens his door, finds much of the same in his office,
and sits down behind his desk amongst the hustle and bustle of the investigators.



“Hi. I have an appointment with Mr. LaVey.”

Travis speaks with the slightest hint of nervousness as he begins to execute his plan. Ophelia
lifts a finger to Travis to say just a second. She looks on her computer and finds the timeslot.

“Daniel Auerbach?”

Travis nods.

“We have you scheduled for 11:00. Is that an okay time?”

“It’s perfect.”

“Just wait over there. Mr. LaVey will be out in a second.”

Travis sits down across from Ophelia’s desk. He fidgets with the recorder in his pocket, trying to
hide his anticipation. If his plan goes right and his hunches are correct, he will have definitive
proof that The 2nd LaVeyan Church is connected to various celebrities and important figures.

10 Minutes pass, and Nico arrives right on schedule.

“Hello, Daniel! Just follow me to the back.”

Travis gets up and follows Nico to his office. As he walks, he turns on the tape recorder in his
pocket. They enter Nico’s office.

“Daniel Auerbach. That name sounds familiar.”

Travis blushes.

“I get that a lot. I share a name with one half of The Black Keys.”

“Oh yeah! I listen to them all the time. I love El Camino.”

“Yeah, it's a pretty good album.”

Travis gives an empty smile.

“So, what are you here for, Daniel?”

A wave of weak nervous discomfort washes over Travis.

“Well, I'm here for business reasons.”

“You want to work for us? We're already fully staffed.”

“No, personal business.”

Nico raises an eyebrow.

“What kind of personal business?

Travis pretends to be shy about it for a second.

“Well, I'm an aspiring musician. And, you know how hard it can be to make it-”

“Say no more, Daniel.”

Nico presses a button in his desk for security to come in. He then pulls a few sheets of paper
out of his desk. Two suited men come in.

“First, this is a confidentiality agreement. This is to make sure you don't say a word. You don't
agree to this, we have no business. You agree to this, we “have no business.””

Nico puts air quotes around “have no business.”

Travis signs.

“Good. Now the next sheet is the actual document. Sign here, here, and here.”

Travis’ heart begins to race. He is so close that he can feel it. He slowly goes to pick up his pen,
but instead, quickly pulls his phone out, takes a picture of the document, which is actually just a sponsorship waiver, a picture of a startled
Nico, and kicks down the door. He runs away quickly, posting the pictures on his Twitter as he
runs. As he uploads the last picture, he feels a sharp pain in his chest. He starts to feel blood
rush down his body. He looks down to see a perfectly manicured hand plunging a letter opener
into his heart.

“Not so fast, Auerbach.”

He looks up to see Ophelia, smiling in a half-seductive-half-evil way. She takes out the letter
opener, and flings it to the ceiling, and then repeats the process multiple times to make it appear
like a brutal attack. Then, before he falls, she slits his throat and pushes him over. When Nico
and his security round the corner, they see Ophelia standing over Travis, her pinstripe pencil
dress covered in his blood. Nico slowly walks up to the corpse, and then looks up at his wife.
She's smiling.

“No need to call a cleaner.”



The scene opens from Nico's webcam. He looks exhausted.

After the week of bullshit I've had to deal with, I fucking need this. I need to let out my frustration somehow. So, to tide me over until our match at Warfare, I'm just going to do what I always do: Trash talk like a mutant Connor McGregor. And I have two dumbasses to fuck up this week! Is it Christmas already?

Rebel Star Said: Other then the fact that he shares partnerships with both a man and a woman named Ophelia and his father is a well known satanist, I don't really know much about him.

Really, Rebel? After I destroy my last opponent, who admit to not doing his research on me, you don't do any research either? Know your enemy, Rebel. It's Combat 101. Obviously you vied for Fem Lit instead. How useful.

Rebel Sta Said: Perhaps, when he fails at wrestling and he will fail at wrestling because being a son of a satanist does not a wrestler make, they can use that as the title of their first porn.

No, being the son of a satanist does not a wrestler make. But, years of kickboxing, jiu-jitsu, and sambo along with 2 years of the best wrestling training around does a wrestler make. What else does not a wrestler make? Being alive for literally only three years, becoming conscious a month ago, deciding that wrestling looks fun, and joining XWF.

Also, stop talking like Alton Brown. I love Good Eats and you're making me hate it.

Rebel Star Said: Interesting enough, Nico is the son of Anton LaVey and Ophelia's role model is Marilyn Manson. Two people that have had their fair share of demon orgies, devil dong worship sessions and satanic slumber parties, together.

My dad died literally 2 years after Manson's cover of "Sweet Dreams." Not only that, but LaVeyan satanism isn't really satanism. It's pretty much just atheism with a price for admission. This is the problem with not doing your research, Rebel. You spread misinformation in an attempt to defame me. Bra-fucking-vo.

Rebel Star Said: The whole union between Nico and his Ophelias could be a manifestation of that, allowing Nico to have the best of both worlds. Since the practice of sexual magic is to be stimulated in any and every way possible, to the point of exhaustion which inevitably leads to the ritualist passing out, I doubt he'll have the strength to do much. One could sneeze and that poor bastard would hit the canvas.

Again, you didn't do your research. My dad was influenced by Crowley, who did believe in sexual magic. My dad might've too. But I'm not my dad. I split off and made my own church. An actual satanic church. Hence "2nd LaVeyan." That would've taken you like 30 seconds to find out. Seriously, Rebel. You're better than this.

Rebel Star Said: He's still the sad son of a satanist, drawing pentagrams and praying to the beast down below, for favors. I don't need to pray to a spiritual entity for anything. Science is my gospel. Everything I need, I already have and all the supposed powers of gods and devils, don't concern me. You need to believe in their power for that to happen and I do not. I'm proof that neither hold a bearing on this world and its creatures. Science trumps religion every time. Perhaps, Nico should start worshiping me. After his epic defeat of course.

That's the problem, Rebel. You believe that I need to rely on prayer for this. I don't. I'm powerful enough as it is. Getting help from the supernatural would make this too easy. I am the beast I worship. I am the only reason I won last week. You think the lord of the underworld cares about an insignificant wrestling match? You're just as naive as you implied that I am.

Now, onto the all-ruling Queen of Memes' promo.

Meme Machine Said: Regardless, all it took was a few harsh words from the loser of the match to spark you up once more.

Don't even try to give me that bullshit. You would've called me a pussy had I not challenged you again. You would've challenged me, and called me a pussy in your promo had I accepted. So instead, I decided to shut you up. You're a petty douche, Luca. At least stand by the fact that you are a petty douche.

Without Memes I Will Die Said: See, there's the catch. The kicker.

You have the win over me, and you think that's gonna help you. You think you're gonna have the psychological advantage over me all because you tossed me into some fire. That I'm scared of your ability to follow the rules of a ridiculous gimmick match?

Why would I need a psychological advantage? I did just fine without it last week. Stop trying to make it seem like i'm some mystical bullshitter just because I'm a satanist. It makes you look insecure.

Give Me the Memes Said: Luca, the guy who made his career out of throwing matches on a whim, coasting by on the image of the perennial underachiever? The guy who could've been Universal Champ a billion times over if only he cared enough. If only he didn't decide to spend his days getting high and making fun of #fuccbois. If only he spent half the time he spends killing scrubs doing something productive like giving a shit.

D-Did you just admit that you might not win just to keep looking like an underachieving junkie? I might as well just wrap up this promo here. That is the single most pathetic thing I've ever heard. Not only that, but you are implying that a loss against me is a win for you. I would call you delusional, but let's just go with that. A loss against me is still a win. That way, I can pin you, and you can go home, smoke weed, eat bologna sandwiches, and browse the shit out of dank memes. Sounds fair.

They Call Me the Meme Machine Said: If you think that loss has fazed me in any way, you're as fucking as your wife's (who just so happens to have the same first name as your tag partner #mostawkwardthreesome) tits are big. Now that, my friend, is a fucking accomplishment. Put that shit on your resume under your fantastic, against all odds win over me.

Why do you keep sarcastically saying that my win over you was the biggest in my career? I didn't even make a big deal out of beating you. You did. You, in trying to undercut my win, just made yourself look like a sore loser. Good job. You can't even undermine me correctly.

Inhale the Memes, Exhale the Memes Said: You're the hero here, Nico. You temporarily bested the big bad villain and you're looking to deliver that #deathblow.

But then that big bad villain hops right back up and fucking #rekts #shrekts #murkts you faster than you can gasp in shock.

Because that's what the pros do, Nico.

Do you know what pros don't do, Nico?

They don't fucking bury themselves when they try to rub salt in the wound. Of course you do that shit you fucking amateur. Right, I'm totally suffering a fall from grace, because that's what you say when you want to legitimize a win. You dense motherfuc-- that's the shit your next opponent says to undermine your win over a legend.

Deep-Fried Christ on a Stick, you are so pathetically insecure. You so desperately paint me as a complete loser, when I'm the one that actually won a match. I didn't call myself a hero or a villain. You did. You forced it onto me so you could make this comparison. And then, a few lines later, you tell me that I don't know how this shit works? Can you stop projecting your self-loathing onto me for like 5 seconds?

Also, what the shit are you babbling about? That's a completely valid insult. You can also use it to illegitimize a person's win over someone else, but it can also be used as an insult. How the dicks did you mess that up?

Inject the Memes into my bloodstream Said: Speaking of taking what I can get, hey Ophelia. The one with the Satanist's last name, not the one with the terrorist's last name. Jesus you're both so fucking edgy.

Anyway, after I get done kicking your hubby in the chest until his fucking ribs break.

After I get done stomping the limp-wristed, squeaky voiced little 's vocal cords into dust.

After I fuck his shit up the way I fuck everyone's shit up, what say I hit you up and show a real man, get you away from all that edgy Satanist bullshit.

Just a thought.

#MistaStealYoGirl

Ophelia yells from the other side of the room.

Not a chance, peckerwood.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

Overall Record: 2-8-1.

1x Federweight Champion.

Shitlist: Izzy Ravenwolf, Nate Higgers.

“We have never heard the devil's side of the story, God wrote all the book.”
― Anatole France