We open on a banner that announces that we’re at a gun show, and the shot pans down to reveal Cillian and Mercy standing at one of the many booths with a pile of guns stacked in front of them. The proprietor, already with dollar signs in his eyes, claps his hands together.

Alright folks, just need to run a quick background check and we are all set.

Mercy cocks her head menacingly. Cillian, who we will remind you has his face painted like a skull, intejects. Actually, we don’t need to do that.

The proprietor sizes them up and smiles. Ahhh you’re right! You guys look like upstanding citizens, I’m sure I can trust you.

But Cillian is already loading the guns up in a series of paper bags.

NOT FAR AWAY
A LITTLE LATER

You better keep those liberal cucks away from me! And cancel all my shows! Tell them I golfed too much and got a headache or something! Jason Aldean screams into a cell phone, red faced and with flecks of spittle foaming in the corners of his mouth. He jams his finger on the “call end” button and continues muttering. People don’t like my songs, they can eat the foul end of a .44…fuckin’ queers…

Jason then mounts his hotel room bed and looks down at the pile of oiled up Thai twinks on the floor below him. Cannonball! With that, he dives into the twinks like Scrooge McDuck diving into a pile of money.

The shot pulls out of Jason’s room and into a nearby elevator where two of Jason’s security staff are headed to the ground floor. Both are brandishing menacing looking assault rifles and have the appearance of mercenaries better suited to the sands of the middle east than a posh hotel.

Ya think the boss is getting a little paranoid what with all the backlash about Try That in a Small Town? One of the grunts asks.

You kidding? I’ve had to follow up on like 50 threats just this week alone.

Wow, seriously?!

Nah, I’m just fuckin’ with ya. It’s been all quiet.

Hah! So how’s Martha and the kids?

Martha cheated on me. I’m thinking of putting that bitch on ice. You free next weekend?

Wait…what?

*Ding*

The elevator arrives on the ground floor and into an insane sight. A Prius has crashed through the front doors of the hotel, and the wait staff are all cowering behind the desk. Mercy and Cillian, both brandishing firearms, are front and center with the guns trained on the elevator.

Oh sh-

And with multiple blasts of gunfire, Aldean’s grunts are mowed down in a shower of bullets and blood.

Shut down the elavators, now! The hotel manager calls out into a radio. Cillian turns around and plants a bullet in between his eyes, blood blasting out the back of his skull and coating the generic floral wall art just behind him. The staff members wail and scream in response.

sHuT tHe fUCk uP!

Damn it, looks like we’re taking the stairs.

yEaH…Mercy mutters.

With that, the duo head for the nearest entrance to the stairwell. They plunge up the stairs, but only make it to the third floor before another one of Aldean’s thugs explodes out the third floor door and opens fire on Mercy and Cillian. They take cover in the stairwell as the staccato beat of gunfire pops all around them.

sO…dId yoU lIke, meaN wHat yoU sAId AbouT tHis BeiNg a Date?

Cillian cringes as a bullet pings off the railing nearby. Of course! How’s it going so far?

pReTTy bAdAss.

Sweet! Oh, the fucker’s reloading! Cillian pops out and unloads some cover fire as Mercy skirts around the bend and takes aim, planting a slug in the goon’s throat and sending him toppling over the railing and down to the the first floor below. Our dynamic duo then continue their flight up the stairs, finally reaching the penthouse level. Before opening the door, Cillian takes a deep breath.

This is probably where it gets hard.

yEaH.

You ready for this?

iF yOu aRe.

Cillian smiles devilishly. I was born ready. With that, Cillian throws open the door, and immediately catches a round to the shoulder.

cIlLiAn!

Cillian stumbles back against the opposite wall, sliding down it and groaning in pain. Why didn’t anyone ever tell me getting shot sucks!

aRe yOu GoIng tO bE ok?

I…I think so. He grimaces. I think it’s in my shoulder. Hurts like hell. Here, help me up.

nO, yOu NEED to stAy doWn.

I can’t let you do this on your own. 

Suddenly, Mercy is alerted to some movement behind her. Someone is opening the door. With a quickness, she back kicks the door closed and we hear a cry of pain from the other side. Meanwhile, Cillian is struggling to get to his feet. Clearly, Mercy is not going to deter him. She shakes her head and scowls behind the mask, but accepts his stubbornness. Mercy then returns to the door and sticks the door open just wide enough to shove an AK through, pumping assault rifle fire into the hallway. Then, with some cover fire laid down, she quickly bursts through the door with Cillian right behind. They dive into a nearby alcove as gunfire lights up the door they just passed through.

Mercy sticks her head around the corner and ducks back in. tHey’Re uSING aN iCe mACHinE foR coVer.

Well then it’s a good thing I brought this. Still grunting in pain, he nonetheless pulls out a hand grenade. Never got to use it during the school shooting. It’s my last one.

bEttEr mAke iT a gooD onE.

Cillian nods and then pulls the pin on the grenade. Then, with his good arm, he rolls it down the hall. What follows is confused screaming, and then an explosion rocks the hallway. After the smoke clears, they both take a peek around the corner, and see the last of Jason Aldean’s gunmen quite dead.

Hell yeah!

wE dId iT!

Now let’s go collect our prize.

Mercy helps Cillian to his feet and they proceed down the hall, taking pains to avoid the massive hole in the floor that’s been created. Finally, they arrive at a white pair of ornate doors, clearly the penthouse. Mercy and Cillian each take a handle and they pull them open, leveling their guns at what lays behind them.

What the hell?

YOU’LL NEVER STOP MY TWINK ARMY! Aldean screams from the far side of the room. What stands between him and Cillian and Mercy is 15 odd oiled up man sluts, each one brandishing a martial arts weapon.

Hoooleeeee shit.

I wAs NoT exPectIng ThIs.

Then, with a frenziied battle cry, the twinks charge! They’re able to mow down four before being swarmed. One twink swings a hatchet at Cillian, and he just barely ducks out of the way. Two more twinks start slashing at Mercy with samurai swords. Mercy blocks both their blows with the blades on her gauntlets, then stabs them both in the stomach with the blades, pulling out reams of intestines in the process in an explosion of gore and viscera.

Cillian seems to be struggling, his wound burning away in his shoulder.

hOld on Cillian!

Mercy bats away an attack with some nunchuks before advancing on Cillian and the three twinks surrounding him. Mercy, still armed with the intestines, throws them around one twinks throat like a garrote and drags him to the floor before stomping a hole in his face. This emboldens Cillian, who pulls out a handgun and pops a shot in the head of one distracted twink. But the other, armed with a dagger, runs a slash across Cillian’s chest.

nO! Mercy cries out, getting between the twink and Cillian. They dodge and parry a series of blows as more twinks file through the door into the hallway. Mercy gets an edge on the twink she’s fighting, literally, and runs her claws across his face, dropping him as he screams in pain. Mercy pushes Cillian back to safety and interjects herself between him and the wave of angry man whores. One comes in with a club, and Mercy holds up a forearm to block and can feel the bone fracture as the club hits. She growls and kicks out at that twink before two more fill in the gap, each armed with a duo of knives. Mercy falls into battle with them, and before long one of them lands a lucky shot into her thigh. Howling in rage, Mercy jams her finger blades into that twinks throat before wheeling around and slashing open the guts of the other.

The remaining twinks are now in the single digits, but they certainly don’t look to be stopping anytime soon. They swarm Mercy and dogpile on her, each twink frantically reigning blows down on what’s beneath.

Cillian’s eyes go wide in fear. Mercy!

Then, a feral growl emits from the bottom of the twink pile, and suddenly thin, hairless oiled up bodies are flying backwards everywhere! Mercy stands up, blood seeping out of numerous wounds in her black leather catsuit. But the twinks recover quickly and advance on Mercy yet again. However, the charge doesn’t last long. Mercy twists and twirls and slices, hacking away at her enemies in a blur of speed and abject grace. Even Cillian in his wounded state can’t help but admire Mercy’s ferocity.

Before long, there is only one last twink. With a look of determination, he reaches around to his ass and, with a wet POP sound, produces a dildo. But, this isn’t just any ordinary dildo. He presses a button embedded in the shaft and it telescopes out into a massive bladed sex toy. Mercy looks around and her eyes settle on a dildo in one of the downed twink’s asses. She retrieves it, which makes another satisfying POP sound, and presses the button, activating her own blade.

Can you imagine how much it would hurt if one of those went off accidentally?

I KnoW, rIght?

But they don’t have much longer to ponder unfortunate sex toy impalements as the final twink shrieks out a battle cry and plunges at Mercy!



And just like that the two combatants are a whirl of frenetic energy, dodging and thrusting (lol) and parrying with a peerless intensity! The twink arcs a downward slash at Mercy, Mercy deflects it and goes for a quick kick but the nubile twink backflips out of the way.

And that’s when he presses the OTHER button on the dildo. And a second blade emerges out the other side.

Mercy looks at her dildo and finds no second button!

Mercy, hit the button!

It’S nOt heRE!

With a confident smirk, the twink twirls his twin bladed dildo and goes on the attack once more, lashing at Mercy with both ends of the weapon. Before long Mercy is hit with a gash to her shin, and she backs off, breathing heavily. But the twink stays on her, and Mercy’s back is against the wall as she tries to fend off the flurry of attacks.

Cillian can tell Mercy is faltering. So he pushes his pain down below and searches the numerous twink asses for another weaponized dildo. But he doesn’t spot one. Instead, he picks up one of the regular swords and heads towards the fight.

cIllIan, nO!

But Mercy’s concerned shout is enough to alert her enemy that Cillian is approaching. The twink whirls on Cillian, snapping up the dildo handle up and under his nose, rocking him before spinning around and lancing him in the stomach with the blade! Cillian stumbles back, fresh blood pouring out of his gut.

Mercy is rejuvenated by the sight, and desperate. She fights back, battering her foe with attack after attack that’s he able to block with frustrating ease. But Mercy is gaining purchase, pushing him towards the opposite wall. But then, the twink does something Mercy wasn’t expecting! He cartwheels off the wall and lands behind Mercy, slashing her down the length of her back. It cuts deep and Mercy stumbles to the ground.

It looks like the end for Mercy. She collapses against the wall, smearing it with crimson. The twink approaches her for the kill. But then he falters, he blinks rapidly. Something feels off. And that’s when he notices the syringe sticking out of his thigh, the syringe Mercy plunged into him as he leapt off the wall. The twink collapses in a heap, and Mercy breathes a sigh of relief. She looks to Cillian, who barely seems conscious.

jUst hOld On…

Yeah, just hold on! A twangy folksy voice sneers. Jason Aldean appears in the doorway of his penthouse, and he appears to be holding something in his hand. Don’t either of you freaks think about coming any closer. I have this entire hotel wired to explode! He rattles the device in the air for emphasis. Jesus, what is it with you liberals?! Can’t a man sing a simple song with “vaguely racist overtones but not so racist that it doesn’t offer me some plausible deniability” in this country anymore?! What’s this nation coming to? We got queers reading kids library books, men who think they’re women, women who think they’re men, this uppity Black Lives Matter shit, all this backlash against the po-lice! And now, we got creeps like you coming out of the woodwork to bump me off. It’s crazy! And it ends NOW, starting with you two!

Mercy looks back at Cillian, who is still bleeding heavily and struggling to stay awake. Retraining her focus on Aldean she takes note of something about the detonator he's holding. And then she laughs. A foul ill tempered chuckle. She points at the detonator. ThAt iS JUST a cEll PHONE tApED to a TV reMoTE yOu IMBECILE.

Aldean blanches. Uh…no it’s not…

yEs. It IS.

Uhhhh….no…

The shot aburptly cuts to the exterior of the building, whereupon we see Jason Aldean crashing through the large penthouse window. As he plummets, he can be heard screaming…

DON’T TELL MY WIFE ABOUT THE TWIIIIIIIIINNNNNNKSSSSSSSSS…

*SPLAT*

Mercy’s graven image appears amidst the shattered glass, and upon seeing the immense population of police officers assembled at ground level, she ducks back inside quickly. Mercy pulls out her cell phone and puts it up to her masked face, just as a police helicopter can be seen hovering in front of the broken window.

yEah, mADiSon, I’M goNnA nEEd a GET ouT oF JaIL frEE cArd…

 
LATER
ELSEWHERE


The shot cuts back to Madison Dyson in her office. And suffice it to say, she looks a tad…disheveled. Hair uncrimped, top few buttons of her blouse undone, a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead. A cigarette sticks out of her mouth. All in all, she looks like someone who was recently in the throes of…

…passion?

Oh Marky Mark…

She spins around in her chair.

….take me for a SPIN, daddy!

She stops the spin, planting her hands firmly on the desk. Then, she takes the cigarette out of her mouth and carefully stabs it out in a nearby ashtray.

You are an ASSHOLE and I LOVE you for it. The research. The biting wit. Calling me out on all my bullshit. Mark, I have a confession to make.

I’m a little turned on.

Not the reaction you were expecting? Well, let me tell ya a little something about Maddy. I don’t have any, uhhhh, whatchmacallit…she starts snapping her fingers…shame. You see, you thought you were insulting me, but in reality you were pointing out that I play the game a little differently than everyone else. How so?

I flood the zone with shit and see what sticks.

Calling out Bobby Bourbon for losing to Jenny Myst when I knew full well that Mercy did too?

Flooding the zone with shit.

And you might think I’d feel bad getting caught with my…ahem…panties down. That it  would make me feel embarrassed….humiliated!

Meh.

I’m a political creature, Mark. Unlike you who dwells squarely in a world of facts, figures, and stats, I dwell in a world where the truth is a little more loosey goosey. Preying on Bobby Bourbon for a loss Mercy also suffered is just part of the game, man. Part of the game I won’t apologize for.

As for that bit about North Korean War Criminal gettin’ the slant knocked out of him, yeah, I was wrong. But if you’re gonna crucify me for predicting a win that didn’t happen well then honey you better stock up on wood and nails at Home Depot because you’re gonna have to do the same to the rest of the roster. Mark, I’m a MANAGER. Talking shit about the competition losing is WHAT I DO. After all, I’m sure you already had wins preemptively tallied on your scorecard both times you lost to Bobby Bourbon. I bet those promos look a little silly in retrospect, don’t they?

See? We can both do this.

But…I digress! We’re not here to fight, Mark. No, no, no, no. We’re here to make sweet passionate love via the medium of promotional videos. Because Mark, this is one time you CAN preemptively tally a win in column A. Mercy’s going to lose to you. And as you’ve cannilly observed it’s not like its the first loss she’s gonna eat. She’s gonna lose to you because I have so ordered it.

Because I want Mark Flynn on Team Maddy.

Shhh shhhh shhhhh….don’t talk yet. Just listen.

I know you want to dismiss this out of hand. I know you want to proclaim that I’m a shitty manager because of Mercy’s record, but Mark? Do you really think I’ve put the same level of effort into Mercy that I did into The Engineer? I mean….really? I send Mercy off to the XWF every so often for my own personal amusement. But The Engineer? That was a full time project. And hot damn did he soar. Still, years later, the longest reigning Universal Champion. Still, years later, the longest reigning XTreme champion.

Mark, by my side, your next Universal title reign can be even grander! By my side your next Universal title reign can smash Engy’s record.

You just need to drop the goody goody gimmick and let…me…in.

She bites her bottom lip sensually, but recovers quickly.

Try as you might, you’ll never be a good guy, Mark. The people will never accept you as one. Hell, life won’t accept you as one. You royally fucked over North Korean War Criminal and look what happened? Now how many other people that you’ve insulted, beaten, and screwed over throughout your illustrious reign of douche baggery are seeing that and thinking, “Now if some green card in a robot can get it done, so can I!”

My point is this. Do you think the WORLD is ever going to let you forget what you’ve done? The scheming, the back stabbing, the dragging through the mud? Because if you think it will Flynny then you’re just a bit naive. The WORLD doesn’t forget. It sure as hell hasn’t let me forget everything I’ve done, but unlike you I just accept that as the cost of doing business.

Plus, Mark, if you really were a “good guy”, wouldn’t you realize that North Korean War Criminal has EVERY RIGHT to do what he’s doing? Hell man, for what you pulled you OWE him that brief case. But no. You’re aghast, you’re irate, you can’t believe the sheer audacity of a man seeking revenge on you for what you did. In short?

You’re the same old, same old, Mark Flynn.

And hey, that’s a compliment! It’s not an insult! Fuck North Korean War Criminal. But boo boo, don’t talk yourself into thinking your reaction still allows you to qualify as a decent sort. Did it even occur to you to apologize to him? To try to make this right? Of course not! Because you’re a piece of shit, Mark! And good on you for it! Bravo!

You need to accept what you are Mark, and what you forever shall be. Madison unfurls her arms out in front of her. And you can do it in my careful, loving embrace and be the longest reigning Universal Champion of all time.

So whaddya say, Mark?

Can we be pals?

Enjoy your win on Warfare at any rate. Call it an olive branch. Call it an invite. Call it what you will.

But baby, I want YOU.

Let mama make everything all better. 

On those parting words, the shot freezes. The camera pans back to reveal Mercy watching Madison’s message on a tablet. Cillian is beside her, and his expression is a cross between revulsion and sadness.

That is not cool at all…

Suddenly, Mercy chucks the device hard against the wall. It explodes in a shower of plastic and circuitry. Cillian’s eyes open wide in surprise, but he says nothing. Mercy, head lowered, starts to pace about the deserted arena hallway, roughly 24 hours before Warfare is set to commence. Cillian looks like he wants to say something, but perhaps he just can’t settle on the words. He instead tugs a bit on the bandages under his shirt, the vestiges of their battle.

i’M nOt….Mercy starts and stops. Then, reaching behind her head, she undoes the strapping on her mask and pulls it off. Cillian tries to conceal his surprise but isn’t quite successful. Mercy’s bare visage is revealed, disclosing a face crisscrossed with scars, including angry scarring extending from the corners of her mouth and up into her cheeks. It’s a face that was clearly beautiful once. She clears her throat, and her tone comes out more even than it normally is. I’m not losing to him. Her fists are pinched shut in quiet rage.

You don’t have to.

I’m not! She shouts, unintentionally taking it out on Cillian. Then, her eyes bore into the camera, icy blue and unfocused. And in that moment, beyond those windows, you know lies only madness and rage.

Mark, I know I have no business facing you. I know I have no business beating you. Two weeks ago both of those statements would have been true. This match wasn’t my choice. It was Madison’s. In a moment of boredom she got the urge to send me into an XWF ring again. I didn’t care about this match. Not really.

Until now.

All that research Mark. All that fact checking and you still don’t have the slightest fucking idea who I am or what I’ve been through. Ah, but none of that matters, right? Just my record in matches that Madison sent me out to fight because she was bored. Who I am doesn’t matter to you. So let me complete your fact checking and clue you in.

Actually Mercy, before you do all that, I have a BURNING question I need answered.

What?

Mark Flynn said you “talk like someone on the internet mocking someone else”. Cillian rubs his chin as he tries to sift through that one. Like, what the hell does that even mean?

I have no fucking idea.

It’s almost like he’s channeling some secret cache of information from some Other Outer Cosmos, some alternate dimension where that statement makes a lick of sense.

Hmmm…an Other Outer Cosmos. Mercy muses.

It doesn’t make any fucking sense in THIS universe that’s for sure.

You’re right.

They both shoot a VERY pointed look at the camera before Mercy continues.

Let me tell you who I am. WHAT I am. I was beautiful once. Radiant. I was a professional model. But time betrayed me, as it does to us all. The beauty started to fade, the modeling contracts dried up. For women like me, 30 is practically a death sentence. Funny that men don't have the same problem.

My fixation on my beauty became a sickness. I lost all sense of who I was as it spiraled into each and every single mirror I passed. What I saw was never good enough, never pretty enough. I started having surgeries to fix what I saw as my fatal flaws, surgery after surgery chasing the dragon of youth. But once gone it can never be truly recaptured, can it?

I kept having surgeries, it became like an addiction. The scalpel became my opiate. But the money was drying up fast, I was plunging myself into poverty in this vain pursuit of perfection. Finally, I had to resort to more…”unconventional” doctors in places like Mexico and Brazil.

I got an infection after what became my final plastic surgery. A virulent one. It was so bad it spread throughout my body, to most of my major organs. Ironically I was to have one final surgery to remove some of those organs. Including my uterus, the very creche of motherhood, of femininity. I had wanted children once, but I was to be denied that as well.

I came to realize something. I realized my obsession was a darkness deep inside me, and that it was only a matter of time before the metaphysical rot became tangible, before it took a toll on my body. And one night, as I cradled the scars of my butchered abdomen, as my hand caressed the misshappen facsimile of youth that was my face I realized something.

I wasn’t destined to be a beauty. Oh no, Mark….I was destined to be a MONSTER.

And so, I embraced what I was. I embraced the ugliness that was inside me and continued to turn it outwards. Mercy traces the scars on her face with her fingertips.

But I’m sure you’re wondering Mark, what this could possibly have to do with you? Well, it’s simple Mark.

It means you’re a coward.

I EMBRACED what I was, Mark. But you continue to deny yourself. Madison was actually right about that. And for a man who likes to talk about weakness as much as you do, this self deception is hardly becoming. In fact, it makes YOU the weakling. And no impressive wrestling record, no amount of wins or fact checking, can deny that fact.

I stated earlier I didn’t care much about this match, that it was just another of Madison’s amusements. But seeing you deride me as weak even as you failed to come to terms with who you are, even as you pathetically pander to crowds of people who DON’T WANT YOU, filled me with all the motivation I need. Well, that and my own manager trying to sell me out. Which Madison and I will have a reckoning over later.

So here’s what I propose Mark. You have something on the line, the XTreme Championship. So how about I put something on the line too? Yeah….heh.

How about if I lose to you, I’ll never step in an XWF ring again?

I'm not doing this as a favor Mark. This is more than tit for tat. This is a little extra motivation for me. You see, I'm gonna go ahead and put myself in that corner. Because you know what they say about a cornered animal.

At Warfare, you're going to discover I'm much more than a paltry record in matches I hardly cared about. You're going to discover that I'm so much more than a glorified hatchet job on some squealing teens. Because this time, I do care. I want that title. And more than anything else I want your fucking head. You weak, pathetic scared little man.

And think about this Mark, how do you pick up the pieces after losing to some sideshow crank? After you ran me down and tried to make me look like shit? How do you lose to that?

How are you going to stare North Korean War Criminal in the eye with anything approaching pride or confidence after losing to "just Mercy"?

Mark, even with me putting my career on the line, you still have so much more to lose. After all, wrestling is everything to you. So how would you ever deal with the shame of losing to me?

Because there's no surgical procedure in the world to correct that level of schadenfreude.

Make no mistake, there's two of us that'll be without mercy at Warfare.



LATER…

We once more see Madison Dyson in her office, when there’s a knock at the door. Madison shouts out, “better be good” without so much as looking up from the work in front of her. Which in this case happens to be a tray of fine cocaine.

Cillian peeps his head in the door, sans skull makeup. You busy?

Oh, you! Get that pert little ass in here Cillian and give me that status report.

Cillian scurries in, but not without some pain as he’s clearly still feeling the battle scars of the fight with Jason Aldean’s goons. Madison walks around the desk and sits on the front of it. As she does so, she subtly wipes away some of the white powder from her left nostril.

Man, Mercy is PISSED. I think the plan worked!

Of course it worked! She's more motivated than I've ever seen her. The plan was rock solid. Although that’s not to say I didn’t have SOME doubts.

Such as?

Well, for one thing I had to sell being interested in recruiting Mark Flynn. Like I would have any interest in some fucking NERD with the *Madison starts talking in an exaggerated nerd voice* “entire history of the XWF logged in my memory banks BLEEP BLORP”. Seriously! What a fucking VIRGIN. Who gives a shit what happened six years ago. No one! DUH.

So what’s next?

Madison licks her lips sensually and kicks off one of her high heels. She plays her toes along the inside of Cillian’s leg. Next, we pop some of those stitches, eh?

Cillian smirks and approaches Madison as the scene ends.