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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » Gauntlet City (March 31st) PPV RP Archive
This revelation -- RP1
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Mister Mystery 17 31707 1 Offline
Eat shit and rot in Hell



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#1
03-25-2013, 10:03 PM




3rd party narrative
Mister Mystery thought





These hands..


He stares down at his palms as he remains down on both knees -- center of the ramp way just a short distance away from the very ring in which he's claimed the biggest victory of his XWF career.

These hands...


He listens as the majority of fans are echoing either their appreciation or their complete awe in his accomplishment; the sounds of the thousands of people still keeping their eyes locked on him even after the battle is said, done, and won.

These hands....


His breathing is as heavy as it's ever been since his return to the wrestling industry. Upon his debut as "Mystery Mystery 17 31707 1" he was concerned that his body might be out of tune -- no longer fit to rev up to the chaotic levels required to demolish all in his path like he had done so easily in his golden years. Every breath he took tonight; every scream he let out, whether out of rage or pain; every drop of sweat he exuded -- all unmistakable signs of proof that he was not only still the man but he quite frankly was so far beyond any of the so-called men in this company that he won't be able to call himself a mere KING when he wins Gauntlet City.

These hands.....


He'll have no choice but to declare himself the one -- the only -- the insurmountable and irrefutable GOD of not only the XWF; not only the wrestling industry; not only every form of combat known to man... ... ...but God of every last inch of this very Earth that humans dare breathe his oxygen from.

These hands......


Mark Flynn and Donathan have long since returned to the back -- this match literally concluded over fifteen minutes ago. He was the last to rise to his feet after the bell because he was in a state of euphoric embodiment of all he had once set out to be; his past not only relived but very likely surpassed with flying colors. The state of disbelief when John Madison almost had his ribs cracked and shattered beyond repair from the Secret Spear; the astounding level of denial and mental collapse when Mark Flynn woke up and realized he'd lost so much more than a match; the self destructive chain reaction of rationalizing failure when Donathan knew there was no way to truly control this freak of nature -- none of those feelings would have been possible without Mister Mystery's absolute superiority to all that have ever dared to stand before him.

These hands.......


He continues to look down as he balls his fists as tightly as possible with what little energy he had left within. This match had taken him to limits he'd never imagined possible; he could not have done this a year ago or even six months ago. Hell, it's unlikely he could have done this in the prime of his career so long ago before stepping away. Something new was alive within him -- his mind, body and soul had been ignited with a blaze so hot that it would leave the sun burnt to ashes in an instant. Donathan was on to something when he gave Mister Mystery those drugs shortly before his return. Donathan was on to something when he claimed to truly enlighten this maniacal monstrosity from yesteryear.

These hands........


His fists remain clenched as sweat continues pouring out from under his mask and blood still glistens on multiple places all over his body. Battered, bruised, and bloody but far from beaten was the end result of his conquest on this night. As the seconds pass his senses allow him to recognize more and more of what's around him; the actual cheers and the random shouts of "fuck yeah!" and "Mystery rules!" and "Black Circle sucks!" -- all music to his cauliflowered ears as he brings himself back to his feet and extends his massive frame. He walks a few more feet up the ramp and turns around to face the fans with his fists still balled so tightly they could forge coal into diamond.

He lifts those fists -- slowly, lethargically and unstably as both of his arms still shake from expelling so much power throughout the evening. He takes it in; perhaps the deepest breath he'd taken all night long and his voice booms throughout the arena like that of a God among mice.



Mister Mystery: These hands! They've only just begun!



The roar from the fans is frightening as many of the males in attendance throw their fists into the air and let out primal war cries along with him. Even the woman and children join in, knowing this man is the key to unstoppable, forceful dismantling of anything that wretched Black Circle might try and enact. These fans want the shit in the XWF to not only be combated but abso-fucking-lutely maimed, tortured, dominated, and ripped into so many blood coated shreds that there's no sign left of what those pieces of shit once resembed. This was the man to do it and these people now understood fully that even the entire Black Circle combined would not be able to stop -- hell, even slow this runaway train of unparalleled power. Who could possibly even dream, let alone hope in any form of reality, to oppose this man? Fuck; half the roster is sitting back right now wondering if he's even a man. You could search the Earth for years and never find another who could be put through what he had endured and still come out the decisive winner with his hands held high.

Donathan Alphonse Francois De Sade and Mark fCENSOREDing Flynn -- two men with a list of losses so small you could lose them under a microscope -- both defeated in the final moments of this battle for the ages by a champion in every right.

Not just a Tag Team champion.

Not just a future United States, North Korean, European, X-treme and Trio champion.

But by the gods a champion by bloodline; thee champion of champions; thee soon to be almighty royal ruler of all that resides in this, the land of x-treme.



Mister Mystery: These hands! They've only just begun!!



Same proclamation; larger ovation. These fans begins a chant unlike any other heard before in the wrestling business. It's like time stands still as Mister Mystery opens his fists, throws his arms out to his sides, and tilts his head back to soak it all in. He drops down to his knees again in this state as this chant overwhelms his senses -- no drug, no orgasm, and no prize could ever amount to this feeling that overtakes every last inch of his body.



The Fans to his left: Let's go Mystery!

The Fans to his right: Fuck shit up!

The Fans to his left: Let's go Mystery!

The Fans to his right: Fuck shit up!

The Fans to his left: Let's go Mystery!

The Fans to his right: Fuck shit up!

The Fans to his left: Let's go Mystery!

The Fans to his right: Fuck shit up!

The Fans to his left: Let's go Mystery!

The Fans to his right: Fuck shit up!

These scarred, worn, leather hands.........

They've only just


BLACKOUT







[Image: oqhyzp.png]
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Peter Fn Gilmour (03-25-2013), Unknown Soldier (03-26-2013)


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This revelation -- RP1 - by Mister Mystery 17 31707 1 - 03-25-2013, 10:03 PM



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