∞A: Flickering Light

A warm fire licks at the velvety blackness of the night. A number of figures are assembled around it in a semicircle. Of course, we have our team: Corey Smith, North Korean War Criminal, Centurion, and Alias. Centurion appears to be chatting in Korean with a young couple, their daughter asleep next to them in a stroller. NK is talking animatedly to the owner of the grounds, George, who seems to look wistfully in the distance every few moments as though wishing to escape. Corey is sitting next to an older man wearing fishing gear and a wide brimmed hat with a fishing lure pulled through the brim. And finally, Alias sits alone, his eyes studying the fire with an intensity not seen since…

So, who else wants to hear some inspiring words of wisdom from dear leader? NK waves around a tract with Kim Jong Un on the cover that has been heavily shopped to make him appear muscular with a significant bulge in his pants.

No...no, we’re good! Bob and Jeanie came over after the war. They’re decent regular folk who would prefer their minds be unspoiled. Centurion shoots a look at the couple, who nod their heads in agreement.

Although I’m sure he’s very...nice. Jeanie offers pleasantly, without a hint of an accent.

The fisherman Corey was speaking to roars to his feet. And I didn’t lose my pappy in Vietnam just so we could sing the praises of some fat little….

HEEEY! Who wants to make S’mores?! Corey with the save.

Oh, I’d like one!

Me too! This from Bob, who is gamely avoiding looking at NK.

Oh hell, why not?

Corey’s fisherman friends waves a hand. Thank you young man, but it’s a bit past my bedtime, so I’ll be wishing you all goodnight.

Goodnight, comrade!

Not you. The fisherman scowls before walking off.

Corey starts to disperse some sticks and piles of graham crackers, Hershey bars, and bags of marshmallows. When he finally gets to Alias, he stops. Hey man, you want some?

Alias remains ensnared by the fire and doesn’t respond.

Uh, ground control to Major Tom? Corey nudges Alias’ foot with his own. Alias gives a little start and looks up at Corey, who waggles a bag of marshmallows.

Oh, sorry. I think I’m good.

Suit yourself. Corey rounds the rest of the group, handing off some S’more supplies to George.

The assembly spends about another half hour enjoying each other’s company. And as Corey looks around, seeing this eclectic group he has assembled doing something as simple as sharing a snack by a roaring campfire with normal people, a warm glow settles in his stomach that has nothing to do with the fire. This is good. He thinks.


The smile that had been building falters. His grip on the bag or marshmallows slackens. And Corey looks up just in time to see Alias staring right at him.

Centurion rises and stretches. I’m off to bed too. Insert old people jokes here. ‘Night.

Yeah, goodnight man. He waves at Centurion as he departs. And then, he notices that the couple Centurion was talking to was already gone. When did they leave? How did I miss that?

Corey! George calls out. You alright, son? You been standing there in a daze.

I honestly don't know. He whispers it largely to himself.

Huh?

Corey looks up and now Alias is gone too.

Did you see where he went? He nods to NK.

Hmmmm? Oh? Comrade Alias? Haven't the foggiest.

---

---

---

∞B: Through the Hand of Another - Corey

Corey sighs. Of course this would happen. Everything had been going too smoothly. All they needed was just one night! He squashes the thought. It's not a disaster. Not yet. First of all, Alias probably just went to get firewood or something. Secondly, out of everyone that Corey knew, that crazy bastard was probably the most capable of taking care of himself if left alone in the woods at night.

Still, there was a sense of foreboding that tickled the back of Corey’s consciousness. Something hadn't been sitting right between the two of them this whole trip. I'm going to go check on him.

Should I assist you?

No. Although this would mean leaving NK alone with a sleeping Centurion, at least the War Criminal hadn't been particularly stabby. What's the worst that could happen?

Corey set out along a beaten path that wound itself around the entire park. Before long, he could no longer hear the crackles of burning wood, nor see their embers dance. All he had to guide him was the moonlight from above and distant floodlights on the perimeter. And an overwhelming feeling of dread.

Alias! Are you out here, buddy? He listens for a response, but none comes. It's deathly quiet. They're not even in the park alone, but these walls of trees really want to convince him otherwise.

SNAP!

A twig breaks.

Corey spins to face it. Is that you?

It's me, all right.

Corey peers into the dark. Deep in the brush, he swears he can see movement. Alias? Wait… no…




















What the fuck are you doing here, Doc? Trying to get one up on us before War Games?

Corey blinks and the 'good' doctor vanishes into the night. He hears scampering through the bush. Shit…

If Doc's here, then everyone else might be in trouble. He remembers what he told Alias. Put Doc down, and it’s all hunky-dory.

So he follows.

The bush gets thick and wild as he clambers through it, but with the skills Lux left imprinted in his brain, he tracks Doc through the broken branches and still shaking bushes. Bursting out of the treeline, his own campfire flickers behind a tent, casting shadows on...

No!

Corey lunges as a blood-curdling scream rips throughout the campsite.

Doc slices the throat of the Korean man Centurion was talking to earlier. His wife goes to scream again but Doc’s hand clenches her mouth shut.

And he drives his blade through the back of her neck.

The tent rustles behind Doc and as he begins to dash off, Centurion appears.

What the… Wide-eyed he surveys the scene as Corey drops to his knees next to the bodies, blood pooling around him.

It was… it was Doc! He manages through choked breaths.

Centurion's heart races and he makes a concerted effort to draw air deep into his lungs to calm himself. No, I saw him run off. That wasn’t Doc. It was someone in a mask.

Corey struggles to focus. They had a kid, man!

We know who did this. These two met in the South Korean military. Corey wipes his face and looks up to the veteran.

Where is the North Korean War Criminal?

---

---

---

∞C: Through the Hand of Another - NKWC

We settle on North Korean War Criminal patrolling the woodlands. He scans the area, and then, satisfied, pulls out a notebook and leaves a checkmark behind on one of the pages. Perimeter check number two, complete! He looks ahead to his next waypoint. Which is naturally designated by a little North Korean flag flapping in the breeze. But then, he’s forced to stop when he hears a bustle nearby. Whipping around, his body tenses as he goes into full alert.

Perimeter breach! He forward-rolls into a fighting stance. I must warn you I know 15 different variations of North Korean martial arts and created 14 of them!

Then, as though berthed from the shadow, a figure peels itself away from the inky darkness and steps into the light of the moon. NK gasps.




















Thaddeus Duke! So the time has finally come, eh? Revealing your true colors! I’ve had you pegged for a CIA spook the whole time! I bet you alphabet people have a file on me and my exploits that’s as long as the Bible. He seems pretty proud of this. Well, it’s all true! Except for that one thing in Reno in 1983. I thought “Bong Hits for Jesus” was some kind of code to get myself into the American socialist underground. Honest mistake.

The effigy of Thad cocks his head, reaches behind himself, and pulls out a wicked blade that’s already smeared with blood.

I am ready you witless pawn of the ruling class!

The knife wielding man lunges suddenly, slashing with a practiced ease. NK is of course, weaponless, and doing his best to parry the blows. But the blade is getting perilously close to breaking NK’s defenses. How long can he keep it up?

HEY!

Another voice barks out. The assailant looks up to see Alias charging into the fray! He disengages and runs away, disappearing into the trees once more.

Are you alright?

Fit as a fiddle, Comrade Alias! Did you see who that was?!

Yeah... Alias’s features set into a grim countenance.

Good! The American government has wanted me dead for…

No. It was Thad. His words drip bitterness. I guess Louis finally broke him.

Or someone made to look like him. The XWF has long been hostile…

Whatever. We need to get back to camp. Form up again. Safety in numbers.

I agree.

With that, they both set off into the woods, going in the direction they last spotted the knife wielding attacker. Senses keen to their surroundings, the duo methodically pick their way through the brambles. North Korean War Criminal, out in front, speaks softly as the campfire is illuminated in the distance. I certainly hope no violence has befallen our other comrades. As self appointed security team leader, I would never forgive myself! I…

NK starts to become aware he’s not hearing a reply. Nor is he hearing the sounds of Alias moving through the underbrush behind him. He looks behind him. Alias is gone.

---

---

---

∞D: Through the Hand of Another - Centurion

Why didn’t I stay on vacation? Tokyo. Olympic athletes. Downtime with Ruby.

Nope. Company Man Centy wanted to play backup quarterback when a… “papal emergency” popped up.

Hell, I could’ve worked WarGames and had my publicist send a note.

“Camping’s not my scene. Staying at the five-star lakeside resort. Feel free to Call before you Don’t stop by! Your friend associate coworker, Centurion (Dictated, Not Read.)”

Now, I’m in the woods with a teenager, a fascist and a murderer. The Universal Champion? M.I.A. Dead? No time to wonder, but how does belt inheritance work…?

NK, start over... You were attacked. Alias saved you.

It was a collaborative defense, Corey Smith.

...Fine. Where’d you leave Alias?

The dictator’s lapdog shrugs.

We shared intelligence to surmise our attacker’s identity… Then, Comrade Alias was gone. From my position, I spotted the campfire. Thus, I returned.

Shared intelligence, huh? What’d you two eggheads put together?

NKWC wrinkles his nose. Offended. That’s rich.

Comrade Centurion, we hypothesized the US government… Or XWF management… desires my end. Each have a history of… sanctioned murder. How interesting that you, an XWF Legend and company ambassador, joined our collective…

This paranoid asshole’s pinning murder on me? No chance.

Before you spin this yarn, Kim Jong Un-fit, Corey and I have been back here dealing with another crime. Now, by my accounts, YOU split to ‘patrol the premises’. ALIAS saves YOU. Then, YOU return with NO Alias? Your problems now are ‘opportunity to commit murder’… and ‘lack of alibi’.

The tyrant-lover gets shifty, a cockroach skittering from a big hand swinging down on him.

HANG ON! This is what THEY want…

Corey wants the captain’s wheel. Naive wide-eyed talk... we’re a team... we gotta stick together. I tune out. Right now, this is about survival and I know the murderer is right he-....

In my periphery, in the trees, I spot a figure… wearing an Andre Dixon mask.






I’m already running.

If our assailant IS from XWF’s past, he didn’t do ALL his research. He tries to outrun me.

Big mistake.

He thinks he’ll lose me in foliage. I narrow the gap enough to close in… Within a half-click, I’m on top of him.

I sink claws into his jaw to wrench him to the ground…

Shit. His mask peels off like it’s attached by tissue and I lose footing on uneven terrain. A split-second later, he cuts right and skips into darkness. I’ll catch him if…

HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!

Double shit. I’m already sprinting again.

HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!

Sounds like Corey. Did that despot plan this…?

I cut through bushes, shaving seconds. Nearing the screeching, I see flashlights shimmering, close to basecamp. Corey’s still screaming for grown-ups.

HEEEEEEE-

My hand slaps over his mouth. I lean into his ear. Stay calm. If they know our position, that’s another advantage they have…

War Criminal kneels, hands wrapped in plastic, examining a corpse.

The fisherman.

Wearing Alias’ red clown wig.

Flannel shirt drenched in blood and bile. Long gash down his chest… gutted like a fish. An almost ironic end.

Based on internal temperature, he died… 54 minutes ago. NKWC retrieves a small thermometer from the corpse’s organs, returning it to his jacket pocket.

Great work, CSI Pyongyang. Follow-up question: This your handiwork?

The Shitstain sneers.

I’ve remained with Corey Smith. We both left camp in your direction as backup. We discovered this body together.

Corey calms down enough to nod. I remove my hand and Smith doubles over sick.

So, you’ve both got an alibi…

He might not…

The Totalitarian Dickhead raises his flashlight.

Bathed in dim light...

Alias. Knees tucked into his chest...

Bloodsoaked.

Muttering.

LeftHandLeftHandLeftHandLeftHandLeftHandLeftHandLeftHand.

This... is complicated…

---

---

---

∞E: Through the Hand of Another - Alias

I’m vaguely aware of being dragged to the campsite with NK to my right and Corey to my left. But I know there’s a monster out there. A real one.

Big scary monsters,
the ones that get you at night,
they hide in cupboards and behind doors,
just to give you a fright!


Corey eclipses my sight of the fire. He’s being born of it now. You have to end before you can begin, though. I hope he remembers.

What happened to you out there?

My eyes narrow. I pull it from the mists. I found the fisherman. He was dead. I...tried to save him.


There is a murderer on the loose. He was wearing a mask.

There was a Thad Duke mask beside the body. I wanted it to be him. Really him. The real monster.

But have you ever wondered
what its like to be a monster
hiding in the dark
and not coming into the light?

Centurion’s voice follows. Alright, so someone with a working knowledge of our opponents is screwing with us. Or... He looks around cryptically.

It’s not one of us! But it is someone who wants to BREAK us!

Well there’s only so many options as to who it could be.

Right! So it’s someone who knows us, someone who hates us. Or both. Someone who knew where we would be!

Someone’s missing. Or someone who was already here. George is the only one left, that we know of.

I don’t know, isn’t that a tad Scooby Doo? It’s always the owner. Centurion tries to inject some levity. It doesn’t work.

I mean, yeah. But why….? Corey looks pensive, like he doesn’t even want to consider the possibility. George seemed like a nice man.

Yeah, why?!










It’s a man wearing a Chris Chaos mask. How fitting to save that for the end.

The interloper slides off the mask.



It’s me….MORBID ANGEL! Haha! He throws his arms out.

You son of a bitch!

Oh come now! This was my plan all along! UNIFICATION! TRUST! Only thing I didn’t plan on was you guys replacing me so fast. That hurt! Morbid puts a hand to his heart.

So, it’s treason, then?!

Corey’s eyes are tearing up. You killed people you fucking asshole!

I SENT THEM TO THE LORD! Morbid responds defensively. Just...you know...a little earlier.

I’m already moving. Circling around to his side while he’s distracted by the banter. But Corey looks about ready to strike too.

Ah, ah, ah! Morbid holds up a hand. He notices me and pulls something from within his jacket. It looks like….

I have wired this whole camp to explode!

He holds what looks like a detonator in front of him.

Bullshit!

We can’t take that chance. I meet Corey’s eyes.


No. Determination. All of them. And then it happens. Complete spontaneous synchronicity. It’s poetry confined to human form and function. The vaunted teamwork that Corey had been looking for. It arrives suddenly, forcefully. Riding a tide of rage.

Centurion eyes the marshmallow stick, the tip still slick with goop.

NK’s foot finds a rock and he works his toe under it.

And Corey and I? Our eyes lock. And we tell The End “not today”.

NK kicks the rock up to his hand and throws it with precision, lumping Morbid in the forehead. As he stumbles back, Corey, Centurion and I advance. Centurion stabs Morbid in the eye with the marshmallow paste. Corey goes for the wrist on his left hand. And I go for the thumb, wrenching it back until I hear a snap. Morbid drops the device and I jump on it. Corey and Centurion simultaneously punch Morbid in the face, knocking him out. NK races in to check on me. Slowly, I open my hand to reveal the detonator.

Is it real?

NK’s eyes widen. Very!


I pass it to Corey immediately and my teammates breathe a sigh of relief.

An explosion.

Not of flames and fatality, but of unity.

Finality.

It is done.

---

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∞F: That F is a Failing Grade for You All

You know what I love? LISTS! Call it the Assburgers in me, but I can’t get enough of ‘em! So, to that end, I have developed a list of the TOP 5 WAR GAMES PARTICIPANTS WHO ARE IN OVER THEIR HEADS! Starting from least useless (but still pretty useless) to most useless, they are:

5)Marf
4) Reggie Estrada
3) Money Oswald
2) Andre Dixon
1) Geri Vayden

If one of these is yours, congratulations...it’s a SCRUB! But my team? My team don’t want no scrubs. Because a “scrub is a guy who can’t get no love from me….” Corey sings the lyric with aplomb. Heh. Sorry. But it’s true. Pick a scrub on my team. I dare you. Even the most iffy link on the chain….and Cent I bet you thought I was gonna say you! But it’s actually me. And even I just went ham on the most stacked Lethal Lottery line up since ever. But those names up there?

Wait, you see the names too? Alias pipes in. Do you want to talk about how NK’s colours were different when we were hiking?

Nope! Just switch back to the LIST! No one can deny it. Those names stick out like a sore thumb. Inconsistent. Overhyped. Somehow a part of Ghost Tank (or whatever). Records that are lackluster to say the least. I think you get the picture. You can pick them out instinctively. In fact, I bet if we had a secret ballot amongst every other War Games participant to create this list, it’d look pretty damn similar to mine. Except some might sub in Chaos. I don’t blame them.

These are your weak links right here. Marf, the lesser half of a duo that includes a woman who couldn’t buy a win for her first three months here. And who only went over my boy Alias in circumstances that were, how you say….a shit ton of fuck!

Reggie Estrada, who is the cornerstone of a team that cuts promos like they learned grammar and syntax from a Speak and Spell with dead batteries.

Money Oswald, who despite probably being a minor deity only just recently made B.O.B. elite in a sight that was as sad as Carrie being made prom queen. “They’re all gonna laugh at you!” Actually, we already are.

Good thing he has that championship, right? You know, the one he defends only when he wants to, and acts like that makes it special when in reality it’s because HE FUCKING MADE IT UP AND NOBODY CARES ABOUT HIM ENOUGH TO CHALLENGE IT!! That’s a common theme with BOB isn’t it? Especially with Andre Dixon…

Whose sheer volume of suck I have already covered in depth, but if you need a recap just Google “Andre Dixon” and “win” and enjoy your quarter page of results about his uncle’s past success. And finally….Geri Vayden. Is that self explanatory enough? The best thing I can say for her is that her weed laden short attention span translated to her not crashing and burning with the Baphomet.

Look, everyone on that list SUCKS, alright? But I guess somebody had to scoop those turds. I mean, somebody other than me. If you’re saying that ANY of those five reach the level of any member of my team, you’re making about as much sense as the thickheads who keep insisting I’m an egomaniac. Because egomaniacs regularly open their homes to the downtrodden and desperate, right? Motherfuckers taking a page from the Jim Caedus Tome of…Corey crosses his eyes and speaks in a derpy tone….”Corey’s A Psychopath”.

That’s pretty rich coming from the guy who turns his back on the friend he’s supposedly trying to make up with, just because said friend got his fucking ass beat. Don’t worry, I got your back, Cor’!

Uh… thanks?

You’re wel-CUM. And there you go, folks! The extent of Jim Caedus’s ingenuity. Congrats on the new, magic cunny, buddy! Maybe that bwitch can cast a spell that teaches you how to fucking speak with commas. Breathe, for fuck’s sake! I’m worried you’re about to get as choked up as Marf when he’s trying to break out of the fucking friend zone. Or worse, as choked up as Charlie Nickles when he realises that instead of ducking him as he claims, I actually agreed to a match with him back in March, only for him to decide he’s got a better chance teaming with fucking Ned Kaye and R.L. Edgar. Probably a wise choice actually. I don’t know if this is true, but it feels like that might be the last time Charlie - or whatever version he was - got a win. This cunt’s like a Dragon Ball Z villain in reverse - each new form is shitter than the last. If that dumb fuck wasn’t a captain himself, I’d say you might need to bump a name on your list, Corey!

And If captains are in the running for that list too, don’t forget about ol’ Fury! Selectively blocking out the last six months of Andy’s gal pal spanking her harder than Chris Page if he was juicing like Morby. She sure showed me! Talking about beating Ruby before I even poofed my way back here! Since then, I’ve won the Universal Championship. What the fuck has she done? And no, creating this OG-BOB team doesn’t count. Someone call Michael Graves because joke-BOB is back! As if it ever left.

Well said, Comrade Alias. To combine your points with Corey Smith’s… Look at the humiliating strategy on display from the captains that oppose us.

They have decidedly refused to acknowledge how utterly their weak links are dragging their teams down.

American-Style “Shout-Out” to Thaddeus Duke, swimming with not one but TWO anchors tied around his throat.

These captains? Too blind to see why these albatrosses will drag their teams down, suffocating under the weight of their own uselessness. They haven’t seen us in action. We aren’t four singles competitors wrestling in self-interest like free-market capitalists. We are a collective, each action chosen to derive maximum benefit for the whole.

And we will wear down you groups of individuals. And we will whittle you down until your weakest, most-vulnerable component breaks down…

Then we move onto the next. And the next. Until our opposition is ground to dust.

Your weakest link is our greatest strength. We will analyze, take advantage, overwhelm and decimate you, piece-by-piece.

You’re all rockin’ handicaps. And it’s going to catch up with you. He pauses. Oh, and a special shout out to Shawn Warstein, who finally made it to the rank of “Angel”. Which makes sense because like an angel, Shawn also sports smooth scrotumless nethers. Cry about it on Twitter ya nancy.

Of course. Of fucking course Shawn Warstein is in this match.

The man just can't stay away. Not truly. All the talk of "oh, I'm done, I've moved on", and yet, every major event the XWF has, Warstein pops back up like a bad case of herpes...which is fitting, given who he's replacing.

I know, I know. Another day, another comment slut shaming Atara. Which honestly isn't fair, because she has to hear that shit all the time, and yet Dick Powers is never once called out for the fact that he's given crabs to everyone in the Minneapolis/St. Paul Metro region.

I’ve received intel from Central Command that Dick Powers arrived in Bethel Woods early. The city’s free clinics are already exceeding capacity. Stop taxing already-overwhelmed American hospitals with your diseased rotting genitals, Dick Powers!

It's sexism, I tell you! Atara at least won titles while hoeing it up. Dick wins one match every three months and goes on a Clam Slam World Tour afterwards.

But hey, at least Dick is going to show up, so good for him. Good also on Geri Vayden, who decided to give up her babysitting job to come wrestle for the weekend. Of course, we know how this ends - disappointing, again. You want to talk about folks who had their opportunities - Geri's entire XWF career is just a list of great opportunities that she squandered. It's fine, though. She'll go back to Revolution1, talk about how she doesn't need us, then come back in two months like nothing happened.

Revolution1 sounds like a Netflix Original that’ll get cancelled halfway through the first season.

You know, you hate to see brothers fighting. Watching Robert Main and Jim Caedus go at it is going to be sad...well, sad and hilarious. The only thing bigger than APEX is the egos of each member of that faction.

And Robert Main’s fall from grace.

I hope Caedus eliminates Main, personally. Maybe then people will stop seeing Caedus as some also ran that became a big deal because he was associated with one of the best wrestlers of his era.

What, no one's saying that? Because I am.

Though Main will have a scapegoat if he does get eliminated, as I doubt Demos is going to put any energy into "team unity". That dude can't even unify his own personality. It's quite possible that Demos doesn't even know who his partners are. I wouldn't be surprised to see him suplex Dolly at some point in the match.

It's a good thing Michael Graves won't be around...though Marf does look eerily like a pedophile, so maybe she's not that safe.

Dolly! Buddy system! Okay?

Not cool, guys!

I look around and I see a bunch of teams who are guaranteeing victory, and yet none of them have the pedigree we do. Look at us! Universal Champion! Leap Of Faith winner! Anarchy Champion! A dude that has a pile of skeletons in his basement! We're an unbeatable team.

We know it.

You know it.

Everyone knows it.

Get the fuck over it.

Pardon the throwback but it’s not like having no scrotum is a bad thing! I’m not gonna go in on Dolly or Betsy. Unlike Thad Duke, I won’t use War as an excuse to flip the bird to those I trust. I just still find it funny that Chris Chaos got pissy at me for having friends, right after he called me a loner! Makes as much sense as Thad even fucking choosing him to begin with. But now? After what we’ve been through, my friend group has all of a sudden gotten bigger. Even if it’s just for one night...

I trust Centurion.

I trust the North Korean War Criminal.

And for all of you - mostly BOB who seem to spend every waking moment trying to point out the fucking obvious - well I’ve got the ultimate sign of trust that I need from Corey Smith. I’m not just the Universal Champion…

Alias raises the 24/7 Briefcase in the air. Corey gestures at it theatrically and mouths “uh oh” as countless minutes of “Corey’s gonna betray Alias” arguments get sucked down the shitter.

Until War Games is over, I’m Mr. 24/725/8 again. And since Corey has been so kind as to give me this gift, I felt it would only be right to give you all a gift too! We all heard how Louis bitched and moaned after doing his best Chris Chaos impression and shitting the bed at Mayday, blaming it all on Corey. Well between Cor’ and I, it seems we’ve got the magic answer for how any of you can put ol’ Lou down. Corey, show them.

Corey walks up to Centurion. And pushes him.





What the hell?

Who else was he going to push, Andy? The eight-foot-tall plus possibly-immortal guy? That’s all it takes though, kids! To unravel the big bad. One push. And he falls a-fucking-part.

Now you know.

Now you can do what we can do.

But there is one thing you can’t do.

One thing that we will.

See, I’m not just going to Eat The World, friends.

We all are.