Robbie, Pest, and Morbid walk out of the National Holocaust Museum and towards the time machine. Pest stops, and looks at Morbid and Robbie. He's still wearing the dildo crown. He takes it off and throws it at the pair of them before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. They look at him. Jenny runs up from by the phone booth, she had been waiting patiently.
What was that for?
Pest: This whole mess. All of it! It is because of you.
He points his finger at Robbie's face.
Pest: I should have let you die in that basement. All you have done since coming into my life is get me involved in some crazy ass space ghost zombie apocalypse, and now we steal a Time Machine? This whole situation utterly ridiculous. As ridiculous as the idea of either Peter Gilmour, or Austin Fernando walking out of Snow Job as fucking Tag Team Champions.
Robbie walks over and hugs Pest. Pest shoves him off and takes a drag of his cigarette. He is breathing angrily and looking furious.
Pest: Robert, what the fuck are you doing?
You needed a hug. I hugged you.
Fucking homos.
Both men look at Morbid. Robbie steps back and goes to slap Morbid, who has unsheathed his sword, and pokes Robbie before he can.
Dude, can you stop poking me? Please? Jesus, dude. We have more important issues. Pest, I'm sorry that this turned out this way. We were trying to save the city. We're going to. And bro, I feel odd calling you that. What's your real name?
Pest: James. You can call me James.
No, your real real name?
Pest: I do not even know if I know it or not at this point. I have not used it, or heard it uttered since the day I left for Vietnam.
That's sad, bro. Come on. Let's go fix this once and for all. Plus, high five. We get to meet ourselves.
Robbie actually throws his hand in the air for a high five, Pest ignores it and walks into the booth. Morbid pokes him again and walks into the booth. Jenny shrugs and walks into the booth. Robbie high fives himself and looks sad as he sulks into the booth. Once inside he stops. It's cramped, and he has an idea.
There's not enough room here. Jenny, go wait out there. We'll be right back for you.
Jenny: You sure? I don't wanna get left.
We'll be right back, I promise.
Robbie and Jenny step out, and Robbie steps back inside. The air whooshes around her as they leave. The cold begins to settle in, and she wraps her arms around herself.
Jenny: They aren't coming back. Bastards.
| For the events of Past and Future meeting, Future speak will be shadowed and past won't be |
Future Pest:
Robert, be cautious. We need to handle this correctly.
I wonder if Past me still has a Godshot. I need a fix.
Past Pest, Morbid and Robbie turn to see themselves running at themselves. They stop and look at them confused. Jenny pops up from the van she was hiding in. Blue looks at Past Robbie who gestures for her to stay behind. The six of them meet in the middle of the street. They all look each other up and down.
Look, no time to explain. We're you from the future. Not far into the future, really less than a week. This plan you'll hatch. It's awesome and whacky, but whacky leads to trouble. Trouble being a horde of undead veterans and the ghost of Bobe Hope trying to take the city to space, and then I swallowed a diamond and I really think that messed up my stomach. There has to be a better way to do this. Don't go through with it. Wow. I did have time to explain that. Awesome.
Past Selves look at Future Selves and then at each other. This story is odd, but not the oddest thing. There is a mass of Alien Slime all over the city, after all.
Future Pest:
Is that Jenny?
Jenny runs over and hugs Past Pest. She's confused and scared.
Jenny: What's going on?
Past Pest: They are claiming to be us from the future.
How do we know you're really us and not impostor bots? I've heard abut impostor bots being used to throw people off.
Future Robbie walks over and whispers something in the ear of Past Robbie.
Ok, at least Robbie's legit.
Past Pest: And you, "Future" Pest?
He does the air quotes as he speaks. Future Pest walks over and whispers something in Past Pest's ears. They nod and separate.
Future Pest:
Am I verified?
Past Pest: You are.
Future Pest:
Can I make a suggestion?
Past Pest: Does it involve Jenny in a compromising position?
Future Pest:
Yes.
Past Pest: Jenny, lead the way.
The Pests walk off, and the Morbid's stare at each other. Eye balling one another. Looking intently, refusing to break eye contact. They are debating mentally what to do now. Future Morbid raises his sword and stabs Past Morbid in the chest. Past He collapses, still holding the sword.
Verified Forever.
Both Robbies look at this scene in horror as Future Morbid raises his hand in victory. The Pests turn to look away from their weird spit roasting threesome with Jenny and see the scene.
Victory Forever. Where's my title?!
The Scene cuts to DiamondBack and CyberJaw talking in the Dojo.
Esteban and Crispin are dicks.
You mean Pest and Morbid Angel, right?
The pair chuckle as they look around the dojo for something to do.
Like we wouldn't know. And what's worse, they get to go on training missions and we don't.
You know what else? They all use Gold Bond. Except Morbid. He uses something called Real Gold Bond, but the L in gold is scratched off, so it says Real God Bond. Apparently his has flakes of gold in it.
Heh, I scratched the G off of Pest's gold bond. It now says Old Bond.
Why?
He didn't use his discount to get us season tickets to King's Dominion. Dick move.
They laugh as the scene fades out.
Pest: Hello, Austin and Luca. I hear you, and I see you. You are as noticed as your hissy fits wish you to be. Do you feel validated now? Are you happy now? Austin, allow me to address you first, you childish insecure fuck. You choose to call opponents out on what you perceive to be grammatical mistakes, and yet you want to try and act like the mistakes you make in that field are somehow lessened? Because you are Austin? And the second foe that the Pest toppled? The situation he was in. The situation was his foe, as in an opponent to overcome. Which, the Pest has overcome. So, good on your failed deductive reasoning and poor detective skills. Perhaps after you give up your wrestling career you could be a detective, just struggle to solve everything and tell the world you are its superior a lot. That sounds exactly like you do now. Good job, you low rent Luca Arzegotti. Take your failing personality swap one step further, go emulate Eli James and Luca at the same time. Since, Eli did try and play at being a Detective once. I am confident you will find a way to lap at their anuses collectively.
But, hey, Austin, good work on letting your intelligence shine through there. You are a brilliant star, are you not? Since your deductive skills are as honed as those of the Pest's son, Aaron. Aaron is eleven, and he is a better detective than you are. And, he is less of a hypocrite. How odd. The Child is half your age and already a better human being. Austin, Pest feels the need to clarify something, you specifically accused me of calling you a dick rider before I actually had spoken for our match. You made these claims before Peter had spoken, even. Which is the only reason they were brought up at all. BECAUSE YOU MADE THEM. You, the insolent little fuck who still needs tucked in and kissed good night. You made a claim, and then rushed to its defense before anyone could discuss it. Robert had yet to even mention it to you. Instead, you bring it up as quickly as possible, and then throw a hissy fit when I do not call you on it. When I call you on your ever changing personality instead. Yes, I brought up you seeking validation, which is not the same as dick riding. Dick riding means that you are attaching yourself for success or for reward. All you want is someone, anyone, to tell you that you are good enough. You can get that from a stranger on the street. No, dick riding is what Vincent Lane did with Kirk MacClay and the Underground, and is now doing with Shane
and the CCWF. You, child, are above that. You do not do this for the trinkets and the treasure. No, you do this for the gratification of hearing the words you wish your father would have spoken so long ago, "Austin, you are good enough." Those words would be a lie, though.
No, Austin, I have plenty to say, and I have said it. You are choosing to ignore the things brought up and instead pick tiny parts to try and better your argument. Because it is hollow and light. You truly have nothing of worth to add to anything, and thus you resort to building it with trivial pick aparts and scattered half jabs. But, mostly, you keep repeating how you are better than us. Well, that superiority will fall to the wayside after you walk out of Snow Job with no Tag Title. Austin, I find you repeating your sentiments an awful lot, as if you are trying to convince yourself of something. Perhaps you might just be frazzled because you know that you have a useless as fuck partner, and have no real argument. Your word game is best suited for an opponent like Alexis Riot, one who cannot comprehend the basics of English, and thus cannot see how simple you really are. So, please, continue to ride people like her, and allow the adults to play without you. Believe me, this will be the best choice of actions.
Here is how the Pest decided that you were terrified of Gator. You traded your shot at him to face Doctor D'Ville, someone who had grown lazy in his appearances since winning that belt. You assumed it meant that he was simply not wanting to fight, which would mean that you could have an easy win over an uninterested opponent. And then he crushed you. And lo and behold, you barely moved above your station unless prompted by management. Like when you were booked to fight Vincent Lane for the honor of Paul Heyman. No, you know exactly where you belong, and you choose to mask the fact that your station is below us by talking big and puffing out your chest. But, not actively trying to fight anyone considered upper echelon. Or, at Lethal Lottery, but that was only because you had a partner, and could ensure someone helped carry you. And then you ran and hid because you were afraid of the odds of getting a lesser partner. And yet, we are to take you serious when you claim superiority?
Please, try and use your very simple and loose comparisons to justify misunderstanding my point. Because in no real sense is actual survival like a wrestling match in which you just have to stay out of the way, and avoid being tossed over a rope. Because that is the exact same thing as staring down death. Yes, Austin, in your coloring book world those are comparable and you are a real man. And in that same world I am supreme ruler of the planet of Pluto, because I opened my refrigerator once. Oh, you bring up the disguise comment? Yes, I wear a disguise in public for my child. I thought that was obvious. The Pest that you see, and that gets filmed on camera? That is the real Pest. The Pest with no insecurities who lays it all on the table. Who puts out videos of him raping and murdering people. And yet, when The Pest goes into the streets to be a father, he hides that aspect. Not out of insecurity, or paranoia, or a lack of identity. It is for his son, because if The Pest acted like the Monster he is, his child would hide, or be taken. So, to protect his child he must don a disguise. All monsters do, even when they are secure with who they are. If you ever manage to get pregnant, you will understand this.
Throwing up a smoke screen and hoping one does not see through it is not the same as a disguise, Austin. What you do is the equivalent to a child hiding behind a curtain with his legs sticking out and trying to be invisible. Pest hopes he is transparent, he has intended to be that way. As he is not wanting to hide who he is. Keep puffing that bird chest and claiming to be superior. It will make what happens next so much more interesting.
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