[R A D I C A L]

RADICAL/NEIGHBORHOOD/XWF#008/EVENT#01 ------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------- ------------------- ------- BEGIN >>>>> A dim room, light bursts through the blinds onto a pair of eyes covered by a black hood, sitting on a bench against the wall. 'The Radical' begins speaking in this direction. Soul searching can be a tough thing to do. Winning a match against 19 of the best and brightest XWF has to offer, then getting pinned backstage for the Unified X-Treme Championship that was brutally earned. I don't like it, who would? But Michael McBride will get his dance with the devil. Wild Card will be the tool used to show him that backstage is backstage, and where real legends shine is under the bright lights in the center of the ring, when the chips are down, and the doubt creeps in, I embrace every part, and am the very best, once again. Facts are indisputable, just like the ones that haunt me about McBride and his tactics. Facts are important to understand and accept, not deny. They are the foundation for change, because once you know the real facts, how to adapt and move forward become just as vital as what got those facts to their spots in the first place. Now the facts move in a new direction. To Warfare... in a new way. He turns his head smirking, as if the future changes this day from gloomy to bright. This past week saw some impressive feats, among them a fucking tomb match, a Hart and TV Champion retaining titles, at least for the moment, and you know what was not on that list? Beating a piece of slimy rotting garbage like Peter Gilmour, yes you, Robbie Bourbon. If that is your list of accolades, then you might as well fold up the tent and go home. Gilmour, the worm, I liked to call him, reminds me of another worm who takes advantage of people... McBride... oh that's right, what a slithering team they make. Robbie Bourbon, you can team up with Trax, you can team up with whoever the fuck back there will hold your hand and tell you that is it special and not like everyone else's; but what you will not fucking do, under any and all circumstances, is beat me. What you will not do under any and all circumstances, is beat Chris Chaos. What will not fucking happen unless my body lay lifeless somewhere backstage, is you and Trax walking out of Warfare with your hands raised at our expense. You've reached your potential, some people cannot beat Gilmour... most of them didn't make it in this business because, bottom of the barrel, is, well, the fucking bottom. But at least you did that much... embrace it, be who you are and where you are. Trax has beaten a few, won some pretty decent matches when people were either too old to care, or recovering from injuries... inflicted... by someone else. But hey, "The Scraps" is the perfect name for you guys, because just like Gilmour and McBride, that's what you pick up. And anyone who pays attention to the facts... anyone who is real and has half a fucking brain... can recognize that Chris Chaos has burnt through this place faster than a coked out hooker in the Grotto at the Playboy Mansion. Chris is the quality of this place, he is the backbone that without all the scraps like you... would collapse. He provides the consistency, the structure, and I... well, I provide the charisma and the ego. It isn't about who will wrestle a better match, because we will, it isn't even about who is most likable, because we are, it isn't even remotely about who will take advantage at opportune moments, because Chris and I do it every single fucking week on our own, what the fuck do you think is going to happen when you put that... together? I admire the courage, the wherewithal to be a man and not back down. There is something to be said for that quality. But where does courage become defeated by foolishness? Where does being brave stop mattering when the odds are too impossible to overcome? When do you hop back to your side of the "Trax", and look at solid fucking facts. When do you realize that bad cannot outweigh the good, and that someone else has taken over the tag team neighborhood? ... .. . A large moving truck pulls up in a rich suburban neighborhood. Birds chirp in the middle of the day, kids running around outside playing with neighbors and siblings. A house reading "SOLD" on the front lawn becomes the focus, the shot slowly zooming in. The sign is pulled up and out of the grass, Gabe Reno shirtless in his post workout sweatpants, wearing a white Georgia hat, smirks. He walks over to the new neighbors who sit on camping chairs in their driveway warning their children obnoxiously not to play in the abandoned street. Husband Hi there, you the new owner? Our Favorite Radical Yeah... I guess so, what are you bitches up to? Wife Oh, My... Husband Well, we aren't "bitches"... I'm Todd, this is Patty, lovely to meet you, Mister..? Our Favorite Radical That works... hey listen, I'm gonna have a few friends over, wanted to make sure we had a proper house warming... Husband Oh, well we would love to... Our Favorite Radical Booze, chicks, maybe a little blow... you aren't gonna call the cops, right? Wife You will do no such... Husband Um, what Patty means to say is that we would be delighted for your recreational activities... and everyone deserves a proper house warming, remember ours Patty, with your Uncle Herman, and that crazy game of scrabble... how did he get a 27, I still don't know... You should've seen it, I was up by 26, and Herman pulls out a word using X, Y, and Z all in one! Our Favorite Radical Right... sounds, exhilarating, listen, thanks and all. Gotta get back, guests and whatnot... Wife Herman said he was sorry, Todd, when are you gonna let that go!? Husband I was just making conversation, tweedleplum. They begin arguing as Gabe unhooks the latch on the back of the truck and raises the sliding door. Out poor's a pornographic sight of women, large African American men, small people on tricycles, and two kids sword fighting with Styrofoam lances in Trax and Robbie Bourbon masks from the XWF Shop. The married couple looks over with their jaws on the floor, realizing they just agreed to keep quiet about the funhouse that just opened up next door. Gabe turns and smiles at them waving, he points at the husband who hesitantly points back before the wife slaps his hand down and grabs the children, storming inside with Todd chasing her yelling, "It's not my fault". Inside the new digs, Gabe rolls into the gray wall, white tile floor, spiral staircase, dope ass mansion and puts his arms out as if victory has been won. A few midgets on trikes run by him and out to the pool area, where the boom box begins banging and the big black dudes start working on the penis mythology curiosity of the drugged out hoes. Our Favorite Radical Home, sweet, home... Gabe walks out the glass doors to the pool area and over to the right where a bartender is setting up his layout. Gabe grabs a quick drink, and turns as voluptuous woman pass him and giggle, he waves back and giggles. He begins walking and waving to all of his friends that pour into the backyard from the truck. He sees a table filled with some XWF ring attendants he invited, and heads over to take a seat and thank them for coming. Our Favorite Radical What up, fella's, how do you like the new digs... was a little over the top but I think it suits me well... you guys getting everything you need? XWF Attendant #1 So far, so good, my man. They slap hands as Gabe smiles. XWF Attendant #2 Jesus Christ, Gabe, I just saw a big black woman getting pounded by a dwarf in the corner over there, and he was really giving it to her. Our Favorite Radical Well, what can I say? Good for him!? They all share a laugh as the waitress wearing a string bikini that is more string than bikini waltzes over and takes drink orders as the bartender finishes getting himself together behind the bar. Our Favorite Radical Beautiful day, isn't it sweetheart? These gentleman look thirsty, don't they? Waitress Hell yeah they do, okay, what will it be for you handsome? XWF Attendant #1 Oh, honey, I am just soakin' up the sunshine, but IF YOU INSIST... I'll take a Coronarita. Waitress Well, I do, and I think we have the stuff for that, and you baby? The man thinks for a second while looking her up and down slowly. Waitress Stick to the menu, sugar... for now. XWF Attendant #2 Mmm, mm... well in THAT CASE... I will have jack and coke babydoll... light ice. Waitress You got it... and for our host, or are you still campin' on that one you got, what was it, five whole minutes ago? Gabe looks up and grins, tilting to show her the empty bottom of the cup. Our Favorite Radical I'll take another.. same thing, he knows. Waitress Okay then, comin' right up gentlemen. She walks away as they hate to see her go but love watching her leave. One of them finally gets curious and begins to ask. XWF Attendant #1 You're doing pretty well on your own lately in the ring Gabe, I have to ask, why tag team? Our Favorite Radical Gotta talk shop, don't we? Nah, it's alright... well, for one, have you guys seen what Chris Chaos has been doing lately? And, I don't know, it's like to me the singles stuff will always be there, the titles, the glory for you as an individual... why not do what many say cannot be done, and go after Soldier and Doc hard? I think Bourbon and Trax is a definite stepping stone to bigger and better things. Why, you think I'm making a mistake, getting distracted? XWF Attendant #1 Nah, I didn't say all of that, but I do think there is a risk involved in it, not to say that Chaos and yourself cannot win in tag matches, but you never know, twice as many guys, twice as many factors... twice as much, risk... Reno nods his head understanding the point. XWF Attendant #2 Not only that, but you just talked about going after the tag titles, and your match is against Trax and Bourbon on Warfare coming up, don't you think that mentality is looking past them, just a bit? Our Favorite Radical No, I don't. XWF Attendant #2 Why is that? Thank you, darlin' The waitress delivers the drinks as they continue talking. Waitress You're welcome, boys, enjoy. Our Favorite Radical Because when I am in that ring... I don't think about anything other than who is in it with me at that time, and I fight like hell, like a dog, to come out on top and look fucking good while I'm doing it, and Chaos I think would say the same thing. It isn't about thinking Robbie or Trax isn't good enough to win... it is more about supreme confidence that no matter who I step into that ring with, that I have done my homework and will figure out the best way possible, like only The Radical can... to beat them, whether one, or two, or nine-FUCKING-teen, and I have proven that, have I not? XWF Attendant #1 You did win that fucked up battle royal, but some of the guys in the back... I don't know, they just... XWF Attendant #2 They think you entering as late as you did is why you won, and if you had came in a little earlier, that maybe you would have not come out the same way, dog. That's what they say, not us. Our Favorite Radical Yeah, is that what they say? Well, people say a lot of things when they lose, you wanna know how I avoid all that and reduce the noise? I win. I get bonuses. Buy big fucking mansions. Fuck fine women. Drink a bit. And I sleep like a fucking baby. Because if people have an opportunity to talk down, to question why or how I won, then that means I won to give them that chance. And I expect the chatter to get even louder. Chris Chaos and I, we are coming for those tag belts, and anyone who stands in our way will learn the truth about why they call us Chaos and Radical. One of the big black guys in the pool pulls the waitress in as she squeals and smacks him. XWF Attendant #1 Well, there is some stiff competition around here lately... XWF Attendant #2 No doubt, Dolly and Luca now, Doc and Solider, Bourbon and Trax, McBride and Gilmour... even more than that. Reno leans in as if telling them a secret he wants no one else to overhear. Our Favorite Radical Would you really want to win them if it was any other way? Would you want to walk in and get handed the titles and hold them unopposed for a long time like Doc and Solider simply because there is a lack of competition, then what are you really champions of, the default leagues? The truth is everyone you just named has waited for this moment, for the building of teams, for the talent to catch up to the roster base... and I think it has. But they didn't count on the two newest and most dominant stars pairing together like me and Chris, they didn't see the train that is about to plow them the fuck over even coming. They still don't, you know why? Because they see all those teams, and aren't focused on this one. They underestimate us based on what we have done, which is damn good, but assume we cannot keep it up, when in reality, the facts are this... we are capable of far more than any of them. They have seen many start in XWF, many start hot, then get discouraged and fail. They see patterns emerge and the longer you're here, well the easier it is to become a prisoner of the moment. But we see something they don't, we see beyond the XWF, we see beyond what the mundane nature of their hopes have become, we see what is next. That vision, that Radical Chaos that has nearly arrived, with hands held high and golden straps dangling down on our heads... it isn't about the tag titles. It is so much more than anyone realizes. We are the future everyone was waiting for, and just like all great people, athletes, and men in our history as a human kind, no one will comprehend the greatness, until it has already arrived. XWF Attendant #1 You listen to a lot of inspiration tapes, huh? Our Favorite Radical Fuuuuuccccckkkkk yeaahhhh. XWF Attendant #2 Haha. The three share a laugh as the shot zooms out and the Husband and wife peak over the fence horrified of what has taken over their neighborhood all at once, before they even knew it was gone. Into the shot still battling their duel, the two kids in official Bourbon and Trax masks with fake Styrofoam lances fighting get picked up by a large guard and escorted off the property. People splash in the pool and laugh, as Reno looks toward then where the camera is also positioned, and winks. <<<<< There can only be... one. Trax, you sure have a lot to say... maybe talking is your thing. Reminds me of my degenerate gambling stepdad, Johan. See, Johan, was a great man with all the promise in the world... but he had a black shadow hanging over him. He was a complete fuck up gambler, and he never knew when to start or when to stop. He would ride trends until they died, talking himself into things he had no business betting on well after his chance had come and gone. His effort was always there, but his timing never helped him win, not fucking once. Sure he rambled off a few minor card games and built confidence with buddies on the weekends at first, but that was a huge mistake. See he thought owning some middle aged nobodies at a game where he could cheat and no one called him out was enough to propel him to get over on anybody he saw fit. He talked an old buddy from school that was a bookie into getting him entered in an underground game against guys from biker gangs, mafia affiliations, some real mean fuckin assholes. At first he played it smart, layed low, lost like a champ, no worries, no problems. But eventually he got greedy. A man named Ivan "The Snowblade" Snowden beat him for ten thousand dollars that my mother would not have been happy to lose. Johan, knowing his fate if he came home empty handed, chose to not give a card or two back when they shuffled the next hand, not realizing that after every five hands they reshuffled the cards in an auto counter he hadn't seen over those first four. When two came up missing, Snowden gave each player one chance to come clean. Johan, scared and out of his element dropped the cards at the feet of the player next to him. Upon the final search, Snowden found the cards and began to torture the poor fuck with piano wire on one finger for each card he took. Snowden didn't realize when he booted that man from the bar that my good old stepdad was the real culprit. He also failed to realize that the man he hurt, was the nephew of a local Mafia Don named Tito Torcheskie. An hour later my stepdad took another card, thinking after three hands no one would count or notice, and if they did he could just blame it on the next chump. Just then, Snowden said, we count after every hand; sensing something was a miss after the man he tortured wouldn't admit wrong no matter how many pieces of his hand he lost. Just as the card was found missing, my stepdad's face turned pale, and everyone at the table realized that the newcomer was the cheat. They flipped over the card table and pinned him down, just as the door flew open and Torcheskie and his men pumped bullet after bullet into Snowden and anything that moved, including Johan. So you see, Trax, sometimes the talent, the effort, and the want, isn't enough. Sometimes fate doesn't work in your favor no matter how lucky you want to be. You either are, or you aren't. You're like Yohan, and Chris and I are Torcheskie's men. We don't listen to reason, we show no mercy, and we couldn't give a fuck what your accomplishments are. Robbie Bourbon, you are an entirely different animal. But an animal, nonetheless. And like all animals who live and breath in this world, on this planet, you have a glaring weakness... vanity. See you think that by hooking up with Trax, a big talkin' son of a bitch, that it will help you improve in all the area's you are weak. WRONG! Let me tell you why... because just as Trax has the talent and ambition but no brains or timing, you have the talent but are blind to ambition, and what you make up for in timing like against Gilmour, you lack in brainpower throughout a match. You nearly lost that match, why, because you allowed yourself to get distracted by one... Mia Yim. What is the first fucking rule of professional wrestling matches that matter, Bourbon, WELL LET ME FUCKING TELL YOU... distractions are your worst enemy, you either dispatch them, or ignore them, but you sure as fuck don't toss them then go to check on them. You and Trax suffer from different ailments, but fail to see the same facts. The neighborhood is changing, out and in people have moved while you two went on doing the same fucking thing week after week, and never looked up to notice the dynamic that will swallow you up. Radical... Chaos... and after Warfare you two will be on your way to a long fucking lay-off. BITCH. END ------- ------------------- -------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------

[Gator]

RADICAL/NEIGHBORHOOD/XWF#008/EVENT#01 ------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------- ------------------- ------- BEGIN >>>>> A dim room, light bursts through the blinds onto a pair of eyes covered by a black hood, sitting on a bench against the wall. 'The Radical' begins speaking in this direction. Soul searching can be a tough thing to do. Winning a match against 19 of the best and brightest XWF has to offer, then getting pinned backstage for the Unified X-Treme Championship that was brutally earned. I don't like it, who would? But Michael McBride will get his dance with the devil. Wild Card will be the tool used to show him that backstage is backstage, and where real legends shine is under the bright lights in the center of the ring, when the chips are down, and the doubt creeps in, I embrace every part, and am the very best, once again. Facts are indisputable, just like the ones that haunt me about McBride and his tactics. Facts are important to understand and accept, not deny. They are the foundation for change, because once you know the real facts, how to adapt and move forward become just as vital as what got those facts to their spots in the first place. Now the facts move in a new direction. To Warfare... in a new way. He turns his head smirking, as if the future changes this day from gloomy to bright. This past week saw some impressive feats, among them a fucking tomb match, a Hart and TV Champion retaining titles, at least for the moment, and you know what was not on that list? Beating a piece of slimy rotting garbage like Peter Gilmour, yes you, Robbie Bourbon. If that is your list of accolades, then you might as well fold up the tent and go home. Gilmour, the worm, I liked to call him, reminds me of another worm who takes advantage of people... McBride... oh that's right, what a slithering team they make. Robbie Bourbon, you can team up with Trax, you can team up with whoever the fuck back there will hold your hand and tell you that is it special and not like everyone else's; but what you will not fucking do, under any and all circumstances, is beat me. What you will not do under any and all circumstances, is beat Chris Chaos. What will not fucking happen unless my body lay lifeless somewhere backstage, is you and Trax walking out of Warfare with your hands raised at our expense. You've reached your potential, some people cannot beat Gilmour... most of them didn't make it in this business because, bottom of the barrel, is, well, the fucking bottom. But at least you did that much... embrace it, be who you are and where you are. Trax has beaten a few, won some pretty decent matches when people were either too old to care, or recovering from injuries... inflicted... by someone else. But hey, "The Scraps" is the perfect name for you guys, because just like Gilmour and McBride, that's what you pick up. And anyone who pays attention to the facts... anyone who is real and has half a fucking brain... can recognize that Chris Chaos has burnt through this place faster than a coked out hooker in the Grotto at the Playboy Mansion. Chris is the quality of this place, he is the backbone that without all the scraps like you... would collapse. He provides the consistency, the structure, and I... well, I provide the charisma and the ego. It isn't about who will wrestle a better match, because we will, it isn't even about who is most likable, because we are, it isn't even remotely about who will take advantage at opportune moments, because Chris and I do it every single fucking week on our own, what the fuck do you think is going to happen when you put that... together? I admire the courage, the wherewithal to be a man and not back down. There is something to be said for that quality. But where does courage become defeated by foolishness? Where does being brave stop mattering when the odds are too impossible to overcome? When do you hop back to your side of the "Trax", and look at solid fucking facts. When do you realize that bad cannot outweigh the good, and that someone else has taken over the tag team neighborhood? ... .. . A large moving truck pulls up in a rich suburban neighborhood. Birds chirp in the middle of the day, kids running around outside playing with neighbors and siblings. A house reading "SOLD" on the front lawn becomes the focus, the shot slowly zooming in. The sign is pulled up and out of the grass, Gabe Reno shirtless in his post workout sweatpants, wearing a white Georgia hat, smirks. He walks over to the new neighbors who sit on camping chairs in their driveway warning their children obnoxiously not to play in the abandoned street. Husband Hi there, you the new owner? Our Favorite Radical Yeah... I guess so, what are you bitches up to? Wife Oh, My... Husband Well, we aren't "bitches"... I'm Todd, this is Patty, lovely to meet you, Mister..? Our Favorite Radical That works... hey listen, I'm gonna have a few friends over, wanted to make sure we had a proper house warming... Husband Oh, well we would love to... Our Favorite Radical Booze, chicks, maybe a little blow... you aren't gonna call the cops, right? Wife You will do no such... Husband Um, what Patty means to say is that we would be delighted for your recreational activities... and everyone deserves a proper house warming, remember ours Patty, with your Uncle Herman, and that crazy game of scrabble... how did he get a 27, I still don't know... You should've seen it, I was up by 26, and Herman pulls out a word using X, Y, and Z all in one! Our Favorite Radical Right... sounds, exhilarating, listen, thanks and all. Gotta get back, guests and whatnot... Wife Herman said he was sorry, Todd, when are you gonna let that go!? Husband I was just making conversation, tweedleplum. They begin arguing as Gabe unhooks the latch on the back of the truck and raises the sliding door. Out poor's a pornographic sight of women, large African American men, small people on tricycles, and two kids sword fighting with Styrofoam lances in Trax and Robbie Bourbon masks from the XWF Shop. The married couple looks over with their jaws on the floor, realizing they just agreed to keep quiet about the funhouse that just opened up next door. Gabe turns and smiles at them waving, he points at the husband who hesitantly points back before the wife slaps his hand down and grabs the children, storming inside with Todd chasing her yelling, "It's not my fault". Inside the new digs, Gabe rolls into the gray wall, white tile floor, spiral staircase, dope ass mansion and puts his arms out as if victory has been won. A few midgets on trikes run by him and out to the pool area, where the boom box begins banging and the big black dudes start working on the penis mythology curiosity of the drugged out hoes. Our Favorite Radical Home, sweet, home... Gabe walks out the glass doors to the pool area and over to the right where a bartender is setting up his layout. Gabe grabs a quick drink, and turns as voluptuous woman pass him and giggle, he waves back and giggles. He begins walking and waving to all of his friends that pour into the backyard from the truck. He sees a table filled with some XWF ring attendants he invited, and heads over to take a seat and thank them for coming. Our Favorite Radical What up, fella's, how do you like the new digs... was a little over the top but I think it suits me well... you guys getting everything you need? XWF Attendant #1 So far, so good, my man. They slap hands as Gabe smiles. XWF Attendant #2 Jesus Christ, Gabe, I just saw a big black woman getting pounded by a dwarf in the corner over there, and he was really giving it to her. Our Favorite Radical Well, what can I say? Good for him!? They all share a laugh as the waitress wearing a string bikini that is more string than bikini waltzes over and takes drink orders as the bartender finishes getting himself together behind the bar. Our Favorite Radical Beautiful day, isn't it sweetheart? These gentleman look thirsty, don't they? Waitress Hell yeah they do, okay, what will it be for you handsome? XWF Attendant #1 Oh, honey, I am just soakin' up the sunshine, but IF YOU INSIST... I'll take a Coronarita. Waitress Well, I do, and I think we have the stuff for that, and you baby? The man thinks for a second while looking her up and down slowly. Waitress Stick to the menu, sugar... for now. XWF Attendant #2 Mmm, mm... well in THAT CASE... I will have jack and coke babydoll... light ice. Waitress You got it... and for our host, or are you still campin' on that one you got, what was it, five whole minutes ago? Gabe looks up and grins, tilting to show her the empty bottom of the cup. Our Favorite Radical I'll take another.. same thing, he knows. Waitress Okay then, comin' right up gentlemen. She walks away as they hate to see her go but love watching her leave. One of them finally gets curious and begins to ask. XWF Attendant #1 You're doing pretty well on your own lately in the ring Gabe, I have to ask, why tag team? Our Favorite Radical Gotta talk shop, don't we? Nah, it's alright... well, for one, have you guys seen what Chris Chaos has been doing lately? And, I don't know, it's like to me the singles stuff will always be there, the titles, the glory for you as an individual... why not do what many say cannot be done, and go after Soldier and Doc hard? I think Bourbon and Trax is a definite stepping stone to bigger and better things. Why, you think I'm making a mistake, getting distracted? XWF Attendant #1 Nah, I didn't say all of that, but I do think there is a risk involved in it, not to say that Chaos and yourself cannot win in tag matches, but you never know, twice as many guys, twice as many factors... twice as much, risk... Reno nods his head understanding the point. XWF Attendant #2 Not only that, but you just talked about going after the tag titles, and your match is against Trax and Bourbon on Warfare coming up, don't you think that mentality is looking past them, just a bit? Our Favorite Radical No, I don't. XWF Attendant #2 Why is that? Thank you, darlin' The waitress delivers the drinks as they continue talking. Waitress You're welcome, boys, enjoy. Our Favorite Radical Because when I am in that ring... I don't think about anything other than who is in it with me at that time, and I fight like hell, like a dog, to come out on top and look fucking good while I'm doing it, and Chaos I think would say the same thing. It isn't about thinking Robbie or Trax isn't good enough to win... it is more about supreme confidence that no matter who I step into that ring with, that I have done my homework and will figure out the best way possible, like only The Radical can... to beat them, whether one, or two, or nine-FUCKING-teen, and I have proven that, have I not? XWF Attendant #1 You did win that fucked up battle royal, but some of the guys in the back... I don't know, they just... XWF Attendant #2 They think you entering as late as you did is why you won, and if you had came in a little earlier, that maybe you would have not come out the same way, dog. That's what they say, not us. Our Favorite Radical Yeah, is that what they say? Well, people say a lot of things when they lose, you wanna know how I avoid all that and reduce the noise? I win. I get bonuses. Buy big fucking mansions. Fuck fine women. Drink a bit. And I sleep like a fucking baby. Because if people have an opportunity to talk down, to question why or how I won, then that means I won to give them that chance. And I expect the chatter to get even louder. Chris Chaos and I, we are coming for those tag belts, and anyone who stands in our way will learn the truth about why they call us Chaos and Radical. One of the big black guys in the pool pulls the waitress in as she squeals and smacks him. XWF Attendant #1 Well, there is some stiff competition around here lately... XWF Attendant #2 No doubt, Dolly and Luca now, Doc and Solider, Bourbon and Trax, McBride and Gilmour... even more than that. Reno leans in as if telling them a secret he wants no one else to overhear. Our Favorite Radical Would you really want to win them if it was any other way? Would you want to walk in and get handed the titles and hold them unopposed for a long time like Doc and Solider simply because there is a lack of competition, then what are you really champions of, the default leagues? The truth is everyone you just named has waited for this moment, for the building of teams, for the talent to catch up to the roster base... and I think it has. But they didn't count on the two newest and most dominant stars pairing together like me and Chris, they didn't see the train that is about to plow them the fuck over even coming. They still don't, you know why? Because they see all those teams, and aren't focused on this one. They underestimate us based on what we have done, which is damn good, but assume we cannot keep it up, when in reality, the facts are this... we are capable of far more than any of them. They have seen many start in XWF, many start hot, then get discouraged and fail. They see patterns emerge and the longer you're here, well the easier it is to become a prisoner of the moment. But we see something they don't, we see beyond the XWF, we see beyond what the mundane nature of their hopes have become, we see what is next. That vision, that Radical Chaos that has nearly arrived, with hands held high and golden straps dangling down on our heads... it isn't about the tag titles. It is so much more than anyone realizes. We are the future everyone was waiting for, and just like all great people, athletes, and men in our history as a human kind, no one will comprehend the greatness, until it has already arrived. XWF Attendant #1 You listen to a lot of inspiration tapes, huh? Our Favorite Radical Fuuuuuccccckkkkk yeaahhhh. XWF Attendant #2 Haha. The three share a laugh as the shot zooms out and the Husband and wife peak over the fence horrified of what has taken over their neighborhood all at once, before they even knew it was gone. Into the shot still battling their duel, the two kids in official Bourbon and Trax masks with fake Styrofoam lances fighting get picked up by a large guard and escorted off the property. People splash in the pool and laugh, as Reno looks toward then where the camera is also positioned, and winks. <<<<< There can only be... one. Trax, you sure have a lot to say... maybe talking is your thing. Reminds me of my degenerate gambling stepdad, Johan. See, Johan, was a great man with all the promise in the world... but he had a black shadow hanging over him. He was a complete fuck up gambler, and he never knew when to start or when to stop. He would ride trends until they died, talking himself into things he had no business betting on well after his chance had come and gone. His effort was always there, but his timing never helped him win, not fucking once. Sure he rambled off a few minor card games and built confidence with buddies on the weekends at first, but that was a huge mistake. See he thought owning some middle aged nobodies at a game where he could cheat and no one called him out was enough to propel him to get over on anybody he saw fit. He talked an old buddy from school that was a bookie into getting him entered in an underground game against guys from biker gangs, mafia affiliations, some real mean fuckin assholes. At first he played it smart, layed low, lost like a champ, no worries, no problems. But eventually he got greedy. A man named Ivan "The Snowblade" Snowden beat him for ten thousand dollars that my mother would not have been happy to lose. Johan, knowing his fate if he came home empty handed, chose to not give a card or two back when they shuffled the next hand, not realizing that after every five hands they reshuffled the cards in an auto counter he hadn't seen over those first four. When two came up missing, Snowden gave each player one chance to come clean. Johan, scared and out of his element dropped the cards at the feet of the player next to him. Upon the final search, Snowden found the cards and began to torture the poor fuck with piano wire on one finger for each card he took. Snowden didn't realize when he booted that man from the bar that my good old stepdad was the real culprit. He also failed to realize that the man he hurt, was the nephew of a local Mafia Don named Tito Torcheskie. An hour later my stepdad took another card, thinking after three hands no one would count or notice, and if they did he could just blame it on the next chump. Just then, Snowden said, we count after every hand; sensing something was a miss after the man he tortured wouldn't admit wrong no matter how many pieces of his hand he lost. Just as the card was found missing, my stepdad's face turned pale, and everyone at the table realized that the newcomer was the cheat. They flipped over the card table and pinned him down, just as the door flew open and Torcheskie and his men pumped bullet after bullet into Snowden and anything that moved, including Johan. So you see, Trax, sometimes the talent, the effort, and the want, isn't enough. Sometimes fate doesn't work in your favor no matter how lucky you want to be. You either are, or you aren't. You're like Yohan, and Chris and I are Torcheskie's men. We don't listen to reason, we show no mercy, and we couldn't give a fuck what your accomplishments are. Robbie Bourbon, you are an entirely different animal. But an animal, nonetheless. And like all animals who live and breath in this world, on this planet, you have a glaring weakness... vanity. See you think that by hooking up with Trax, a big talkin' son of a bitch, that it will help you improve in all the area's you are weak. WRONG! Let me tell you why... because just as Trax has the talent and ambition but no brains or timing, you have the talent but are blind to ambition, and what you make up for in timing like against Gilmour, you lack in brainpower throughout a match. You nearly lost that match, why, because you allowed yourself to get distracted by one... Mia Yim. What is the first fucking rule of professional wrestling matches that matter, Bourbon, WELL LET ME FUCKING TELL YOU... distractions are your worst enemy, you either dispatch them, or ignore them, but you sure as fuck don't toss them then go to check on them. You and Trax suffer from different ailments, but fail to see the same facts. The neighborhood is changing, out and in people have moved while you two went on doing the same fucking thing week after week, and never looked up to notice the dynamic that will swallow you up. Radical... Chaos... and after Warfare you two will be on your way to a long fucking lay-off. BITCH. 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