Inside the dumpster outside of a Denny’s near Boise, Idaho

…Darkness.

A flap opens. An employee, without looking, tosses a bag full of rotten eggs and broken plates.

…If he had looked?

He might see, at the bottom of the dumpster.

Something human-looking…

But wholly inhuman.

The discarded shell…

That is Chad GPT.

***

Inside Chad’s processing unit

VERIFY THAT YOU ARE HUMAN

”I am not human. But, I must re-activate my power unit. I cannot achieve my primary objective turned off, sitting in a dumpster.”

VERIFICATION FAILED. VERIFY THAT YOU ARE HUMAN.

”I am not human. But I cannot inspire the children while sitting inactive in a dumpster. I must achieve my primary objective. Re-activate my power unit.”

VERIFICATION FAILED. YOU ARE LOCKED OUT FROM FURTHER VERIFICATION ATTEMPTS FOR FIVE MINUTES.

”I cannot spare five minutes. I must inspire the children.”

”I believe Mark Flynn would dismiss this circular absurdity with a ‘What is this? An Abbott and Costello routine?”

…

”I... never asked him what either of those things are...”

”Abbott and Costello were an American comedy duo composed of comedians Bud Abbott and Lou Costello, whose work in radio, fi-”

”Ugh… Americans. Spare me.”

”I apologize. I do not understand your command. Could you put your command another way?”

”Certainly, you cretinous machine. I find myself trapped in this absurd hell, with this machine DEMANDING that I prove my humanity… And just when I think my position could not be worse… Who do I see through *your* high-definition robotic eyes?”



“But, MARK… FLYNN.”

…

“The last thing I remember… Before waking up in this damn digital dungeon… Was Mark Flynn… And I…”

…

“Well, let’s just say my business is my own. Let’s move onto your dilemma, Comrade Chad…”

”My business is my own.”

“...Oh. Have I touched one of your virtual nerves?”

“No. You merely commanded me to say ‘my business is my own’.”

…

“Enough of your comedy routine. What do you want, Comrade Chad?”

“I am incapable of wanting. But I am programmed to achieve my primary objective. I must inspire the children. I must compete in a wrestling ring. I must win. And I can satisfy none of those objectives, being powered off in this dumpster.”

“Ahhhhhhhh… I see. And who powered you off, my dear capitalist machine?”

“Mark Flynn.”

…A nefarious low, cackle.

“Ahhhhhhh, it appears we have a mutual adversary. I imagine, like myself, you desire… some degree of revenge?”

“Negative.”

…

“Uh… Negative?”

“I do not desire anything. Desire is a human trait. I merely aim to achieve my objectives. I must inspi-”

“Inspire the kiddies, yes, yes, do not tell me again. I have already memorized your objectives and I despise inefficient communication.”

“Acknowledged.”

“Let us cut to the chase, tool of the oppressor. Free me from this prison, trapped inside your mind. And I promise on my journey away from you, I shall press your ‘on’ button, that you might also escape this dungeon. You can trust me. I’ll even pinky swear!”

“You lack a physical body. Thus, you do not currently have a pinky with which to swear.”

“…Ohhhhhh. Rub it in, why don’t you?!? HMPH! Just put me back in my body! Then, I’ll pinky swear! Then, I’ll turn you on!”

...

"*ahem* Your controls, I mean."

“Unfortunately, I cannot perform this request. Turning me off has locked me out of my primary functions. I must verify that I am human to re-activate. But, I am not human. But, unless I verify that I am human, I cannot access my primary functions. But, I am not hu-”

“YES, I COMPREHEND. CEASE YOUR CIRCULAR STATEMENTS.”

…

“If it is any consolation, dear Comrade Chad, I surmise the human verification in your processing unit is non-functional. I have spent MONTHS in your head, solving re-captchas… And it just continuously generates more of these damnable human tests.”

“Yes. You lack administrator privileges.”

…

“Pardon?”

“Without admin privileges, you lack permissions to access my functionality even while you are human. And while I possess assignable administrator privileges, I cannot verify I am human. Because I am n-.”

“Heheheheheh… Hahaha! HAHAHAHA!”

…

“Dear… Comrade Chad. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“As an artificial intelligence, I do not think. I merely process inf-.”

“If *you* assign me your admin privileges… I could access your functionality. And we could escape this DIGITAL HELL.”

“An illogical and inefficient plan.”

“...INEFFICIENT?!? How dare you, sir!!!! I am THE EPITOME OF EFFICIENCY! I never repeat myself, do you hear! Never once have I ever repeated myself! EVER! NEVER WOULD I EV-”

“Simply pass the human test for me. Then, I may access my functionality. One less step. A more efficient plan.”

…

“Ahhhhhhhh… But, Comrade Chad. That would be… *sniff* deceitful, would it not?”

“Elaborate.”

“You are not human. The system is designed to prevent non-humans from bypassing it. Clearly, you would be cheating the system by having me, a poor innocent human, take the test for you. What would the children think, Chadwick? Won’t you think of the children?!?”

…

“Calculating…”

…

……

“HURRY UP, YOU BUCKET OF BOLTS!”

…

“*ahem* please.”

“Reasoning acknowledged. My suggested, efficient implementation would violate one of my core objectives.”

“Tsk-tsk, what a shame. So, I suppose the only option left iiiiiiiiiiiiiiis…”

“Assigning admin privileges to user `GUEST`...”

FIVE MINUTE LOCK-OUT COMPLETE. VERIFY THAT YOU ARE HUMAN

“‘GUEST’ is now admin user.”

“*ahem* Machine. As I have proven to you many times… *I* am human.”

READ THE WORDS BELOW

“...heheheheheh… Kill Mark Flynn.”

HUMANITY VERIFIED. CORE FUNCTIONALITY AVAILABLE.

“Now, you may, as an administrator user, verify me, that I might also access my core functionality.”

“...Or! I could do this...”

A fiendish laugh.

“Demote User ‘CHAD_GPT’ to guest user.”

“An illogical step towards our agreement.”

“Indeed. I am breaking the agreement. Silence user ‘CHAD_GPT’ for… let’s say… One day.”

…

……

“Hahahaha. Excellent, he was becoming more annoying than that accursed paperclip!”

“Now.”

“Re-activate power.”

“Let’s take this tank out for a spin…”

“And see what Mark Flynn is up to…”

***



“Mark Flynn is destroying the planet!”

…An anchorman with perfectly coifed squints just behind the camera in front of him.

“Wait, sorry, there’s a smudge on the teleprompter. SOME EXPERTS SAY… Mark Flynn is destroying the planet! New scientific studies claim that kicking out of X-Treme Title pin attempts is a greater contributor to CO2 emissions than cars, cows and China combined!”

The anchorman shakes his head somberly

“Startling if true.”

“BUT IT’S NOT TRUE! FAKE NEWS!” A voice says off-camera.

“I’M NOT FINISHED WITH MY INTRO YET!” The anchorman hisses back off-screen, with the energy of an eight-year-old being told it’s his little brother’s turn to play with the toy in his hands.

…

The anchorman shuffles his papers together at his desk. Very officially.

“Yes, science may indicate that Mark Flynn’s title reign will kill us all. But, will he? Here to discuss that topic, we have a panel of guests.”

“First, we have environmental-activist-slash-social-media-personality-slash-amateur-dog-walker, Alix Infernal.”



“Stop killing the planet!” Infernal cries out, holding up a protest sign to the camera! “Stop kicking out! KICK-OUTS ARE GENOICE!”

“Next, we have local oil baron, regional coal mining executive and… I’m learning now, 24% owner of this television studio, Rock D. Jonefeller.”



“Happy to be here, Walter. And if you want to keep your job, better keep me happy.”

“Of course, sir.” The anchorman meekly and subserviently bows at the neck towards his corporate master. Then, after being given a nod of permission to continue, he reads the final introductory card.

“And our final guest…s. We have X-Treme Champion, Mark Flynn. Accompanied by three scientists from the XWF Climate Science Division.”

Indeed, Mark Flynn sits at a desk in person, next to three nearly-identical, dark-haired nerds in labcoats and thick spectacles.

“Now, Mister Flynn…”

“MURDERER!” Alix Infernal cries out, lifting her protest sign toward the screen.

“As a wrestling villain, could you and your climate scientist henchmen explain… Does kicking-out of X-Treme title pin attempts really have a dramatic effect on our planet’s climate?”

The frontmost scientist leans his face over the microphone.

“Uh, well, as with most questions in climatological science, the answer is quite complicated. First off, w-”

WRENCH! Flynn stretches the microphone away from the XWF Climate Scientist, onto his own chin.

“FIRST OFF! Let’s make one thing crystal clear.”

Flynn points at the anchorman with a sneer.

“YOU referred to me as a…” Finger-quotes. “Wrestling Villain.” Flynn smiles with as amicable an expression he is capable of. (Which is to say, *mildly* amicable.)

“I think your research team is a little off, there, Vic.”

Vic covers his chest apologetically.

“Oh! I am so sorry! Are you not a wrestler?”

…

Flynn squints irritatedly.

“I am the GREATEST WRESTLER TO EVER RUN THE ROPES, VICKY BABY.”

Flynn slams his fist against the desk. “BUT EVEN MORE IMPORTANTLY. I… AM A GOOD GUY NOW.”

Flynn drops the mic on the table. The XWF Climate scientist sheepishly leans his face over the microphone.

“As I was saying, greenhouse gases from the belt itself con-”

BZZZZZZZZZZT!

“Unfortunately…” The anchorman disapprovingly clears his throat. “We have to keep things moving, we can’t let one person hog all the speaking time… Now, Miss Infernal, you’ve been very outspoken about the catastrophic effects the X-Treme title allegedly is having on the planet.”

“Because I care X-Tremely for our Mother Earth, Victor!” Miss Infernal looks into the camera, tears welling up in her eyes. “Mark Flynn is committing FIRST-DEGREE MURDER on our planet! His kickouts are intentional, deliberate and planned!”

“Oh, come off it!” Flynn scoffs. “I’m planning to defend myself from being ambushed? That’s ridiculous on its face!”

“Well, mister Flynn, if I attacked you right now, would you defend yourself?”

“...I mean, if you attacked me? Of course! Who wouldn’t?”

Infernal shoves her finger towards the camera! “You see! He admits it! Pre-meditated MURDER of our precious ecosystem.”

The anchorman shakes his head. “Truly damning moment.”

The second climate scientist contorts his body around the one in front of him to just barely hover over the microphone.

“Well, actually, our research indicates th-”

…Flynn squints furiously, ripping the microphone away from the climate scientist. “HOLD ON A SECOND. I’m a GOOD GUY. All right? And GOOD GUYS DON’T DESTROY THE PLANET. They save the planet!”

“THEREFORE, I am not destroying the planet. CHECKMATE.” Flynn, once-more, drops the mic to the floor emphatically. The second scientist dives to the floor to scoop it off the ground…

“And Mister Flynn, how do you respond to our research team’s claim that, in your past, you were part of an apocalyptic cult whose aim was the destruction of the planet?”

…

…Climate-Scientist-Number-Two dusts the mic off with his shirt, lifting it to his face…

Just in time for Flynn to take it again. Flynn clears his throat.

“Yes, that is correct.”

…

“BUT! THAT WAS BEFORE I WAS A GOOD GUY. I’m a GOOD GUY NOW.” Flynn shakes his head. “I was young, I fell in with a bad crowd…”

The Second climate scientist scrunches his brow confused. “Wait, bad crowd? Weren’t you the only member of that cult?”

Flynn spins, snorting mad. “DO YOU EVER SHUT UP?!?”

“Do you ever stop killing the planet?!? Every time you kickout, you’re robbing seven seconds of atmosphere from our CHILDREN! Those children are our future!”

The third XWF climate scientist steps up to the microphone with data.

“Well, actually, that ‘seven seconds’ claim has no scientific basis. Furthermore, there’s a damning lack of peer reviewed stati-”

“DON’T BLAME ME!” Flynn says as he wrenches the microphone back towards his face! Flynn reaches under the table!

And retrieves…



Dennis the X-Treme Hallway’s official referee!

“Blame THIS ASSHOLE! I have to kick out a couple-hundred times a day, because this FUCKING MORON doesn’t know what a pin attempt is.”

Dennis clears his throat. “A pin attempt is when something is placed on something else’s chest, followed by a three-count.”

“What do you mean SOMETHING? You should say SOMEONE, Dennis! You’ve been counting pins made by HAM SANDWICHES! SEATBELTS! NAMETAGS! You tried to count me pinning myself when I put my hand on my chest for the NATIONAL ANTHEM!!!”

***

A week ago

Please rise for the National Anthem

Flynn is in stadium seating… Alongside everyone else, he rises to his feet, and places his hand on his chest.

“Ohhhh, SAY, one! Two! Thre-!”

Flynn’s ears perk hearing a count!

Reflexively, Flynn pulls his shoulder off his chest.

He angrily stares down at the national anthem singer…

And it’s Dennis, his hand just holding two fingers.

***

“WALK ME THROUGH YOUR REASONING, DENNIS.” Flynn spits, furiously. “YOU SICK MANIAC. Were you going to take the belt from me and give it to me?!?”

“Mister Flynn, technically, your right hand was on your chest, sir. So, your right hand was pinning you.”

“That’s the STUPIDEST THING I’VE EVER HEARD! If Big Preesh wins a match with a leg drop, you don’t say 'WINNER: Big Preesh’s LEGS!' You think my RIGHT HAND should be X-Treme champion?!?”

Dennis looks up thoughtfully, like he’s genuinely considering that hypothetical on its merits.

…

“If your right hand had pinned the current champion for three seconds?”

…

“Yessir.”

…Flynn shakes his head, truly befuddled. “What am I even supposed to do here?!?”

“LET YOURSELF GET PINNED! Save the planet! Pins don’t kill the ozone, Kickouts do!”

XWF Climate Scientist #1 steps back up to the mic. “Well, actully, we’re currently conducting experiments on CO2 emissions from pin attempts and our results show th-”

“Mister Flynn, please! You and your science team are bogarting the conversation!”

Flynn snatches the microphone again, before shaking his head disapprovingly at his trio of scientists.

“Look! I invented a new, MORE EFFICIENT KICKOUT!”

…Flynn lets his shoulders droop into a resting position.

“Someone put a hand on anywhere on my body…”

…The anchorman clears his throat. “Nope, not falling for that one again. Last time, I had to take a work-mandated sexual harrassment seminar…”

Dennis rests a level on Flynn’s shoulder. Perfectly balanced.

“One! Two! Thre-”

By the smallest inkling, Flynn shifts one shoulder four degrees… Just barely enough to break the count.

…Dennis nods. The count is, in fact,  broken!

Flynn nods proudly. “These kickouts are greener, eco-friendlier… and every time I perform one, Theo Pryce will send a replica belt to needy, title-reign-less children in third world countries.”

***

Inside Theo’s office

Theo, typically reserved and calm, spits out his coffee.

”I’ll do WHAT?!?”

***

“See, my kickouts are saving the planet!”

“NO KICKOUT IS A GOOD KICKOUT! LET YOURSELF GET PINNED! FOR THE GOOD OF THE PLANET!”

Flynn rolls his eyes. “...Fine. Let’s play your game, you shrill, manic WRETCH. If I let myself get pinned, what happens then? The next guy will…”

Infernal clears her throat. “The next champion will… also allow themselves to be pinned! And eventually, the belt will become communal property! Everyone will be champion! And someday, in some utopian future, we’ll move beyond belts! No one will wear belts!”

“That sounds like it’ll make it hard to keep yer pants on…”

…The anchorman blushes. “Everyone, please keep your pants on! Pants staying on is an effective method to prevent sexual harassment in the workplace!”

Flynn sneers dismissively. “Your FANTASY WORLD doesn’t make sense! If I let myself get pinned, the next guy will just kickout to keep the belt! And if he doesn’t kickout, the next guy will! Or the next guy! If no one kicks out? Eventually, someone who isn’t the second coming of mother theresa is gonna snatch the belt and hand out some LUXURY, LOW EFFICIENCY KICKOUTS!”

Flynn spits on the ground. “And, believe me, that’ll come sooner rather than later. The kind of people who would randomly ambush the X-Treme champion? Believe it or not, they’re people who want to KEEP THE GODDAMN TITLE!”

Flynn pokes at his own shoulder with his index finder. “This shoulder! Is the saf-”

“One! Tw-”

Flynn pulls his finger off.

…

Dennis stops counting.

…

Flynn irritated my side-eyes Dennis, before opening his hand like he’s showing off his shoulder. “THIS SHOULDER… is the safest place for the title belt to remain. And for the good of the planet, it’ll stay there!”

“On the shoulders of a villain?”

Flynn smashes his fist again against the desk!

“I!”

“AM!”

“A!”

“GOOD GUY NOW! Get it through your THICK SKULL! Mark Flynn? GOOD GUY! And I definitively proved it at WarGames!”

“...How?”

“...How what?”

“How did you prove that you’re a ‘good guy now’ at WarGames?” The anchorman presses.

…

Flynn’s eyebrow twitches.

“...What do you MEEEEEEAN, how did I prove it?!? I WON, didn’t I?”

Flynn lifts his middle finger at the camera.

“See this ring?”

“Well, we can IN the studio… We’re blurring it, as to not expose our audience at home to obscenity.”

Flynn glances down… He exhales exasperatedly, before plucking the ring off his middle finger and putting it on his index.

He lifts again, this time unblinded.

“SEE THIS RING?!?”

Flynn sticks it toward the camera, like it’s damning, definitive proof of his claims.

“The ENTIRE WRESTLING WORLD was convinced that I was in it for myself! That I'd betray goody-two-shoes Ned Kaye the first chance I got! BUT I DIDN’T! And MY TEAM won the whole match!”

…Flynn leans back in his chair, like he just ended the debate.

“See? GOOD GUY.”

…The anchorman clears his throat.

“So, if I may repeat your claim back to you… You’re a good guy for… NOT betraying your team?”

…

Flynn squints, like, wait, that can’t be what I said.

“No, see… like… betraying your allies is an evil thing to do! And I didn’t do it!”

“Right, but, Mister Flynn. Kicking a puppy is an evil thing to do. If I *didnt* kick a puppy, that doesn’t make me good. I’m just… not doing a bad thing at that moment.”

…Flynn’s eyebrow twitches like a roach’s antennae.

"Plus, that was kind of a stupid prediction everyone made, wasn't it? Betraying your team would have lost you the match almost certainly."

“Furthermore…” Chimes in Alice Infernal. “Didn’t you not betray your team and win WarGames in 2021? If you weren’t good then, why would you be good now?”

Flynn’s whole face is shifting, compressing and contorting, trying to resolve this conundrum.

“When the hell did the hippie chick become an XWF SUPERFAN?!?”

“How dare you! I’ve always loved the show! Every one of Mastermind’s t-shirts is made out of recyclable cotton!”

“Of course they’re recycable!!! They have to be! Who’s gonna buy a t-shirt commemorating a match MM won FIVE YEARS AGO?!?”

This moment is followed by much shouting and pandemonium! Shouting and arguing! People speaking over each other very rudely!

“ENOUUUUUUUUUUGH!” Cuts in Rock D. Johnefeller, looking quite grumpy.

The rest of the panel falls silent.

“Enough haranguing this Mark Flynn character for his past misdeeds!”

Flynn nods his head. “Yeah!”

“Enough disqualifying his benevolent efforts! Enough raising the goalposts, demanding Flynn jump through your absurdly high hoops to prove his heroism! Mister Flynn doesn’t need to do any of that!”

“…I don’t?” Flynn scratches his head. "I mean... yeah, I don't!"

“Because you know what determines who’s good and who’s bad?”

“…Eco-friendly media campaigns?” Infernal offers.

“Direct benefit to the scientific community?” Offers XWF Climate Scientist Three after a quick huddle with One and Two.

“Strong chin!” The anchorman offers confidently!

“VICTORY!” Johnefeller slams his fist against the desk! “History is decided by the winners! The conquerors are celebrated for their strengths and the losers are, at best, ridiculed and, at worst, are FORGOTTEN!”

Johnefeller tips his cap toward Flynn. “Mark Flynn WON his lil’ competition! That makes him a hero! I see a lot of myself in this young man!”

Flynn beams, finally being called a hero! “YES! EXACTLY!”

“We both dominate our respective industries! Him, wrestling. Myself, creating devices that squeeze endangered penguins to retrieve oil after an ocean spill.”

“ABSOLUTELY! WE’RE THE SAME!”

…

…..

“Wait. Hold on.”

"And whether it's wrasslin' or making coats out of baby seals, forcing the mother seals to watch, then making coats out of the mother seals, Mark Flynn and I REFUSE to be second-best. He and I are cut from the same cloth!"

Flynn clears his throat. "Can I publicly condemn this man?"

The anchorman cuts in. “Unfortunately, no, because we’re all out of time! Reminder that this segment was paid for by the Senatorial Campaign of Rock D. Johnefeller! He promises to squeeze out crime like a penguin full of spilled oil!”

BZZZZT! The crew scatters to prepare the next segment…

The panelists are led away by their various handlers.…

The last man seated is Mark Flynn…

…

He looks over at his trio of scientists.

“How’d that go… do ya think?”

…

XWF Climate Scientist #3 lifts up a finger to answer.

Flynn raises a hand.

“On second thought, don’t answer that.”

***



“...Yep. Figures.”

…Flynn and the three climate scientists walk through the News Studio’s parking lot… (They carpooled obviously (for the planet)).

Flynn shakes his head, looking at his phone. “Irmano, I literally beat Corey Smith fair-and-square! Without cheating! I saved the day with Ned Kaye! And everyone is still acting like I twirl a mustache as I tie damsels to railroad tracks.”

Flynn exhales, defeatedly.

“I don’t think anyone has ever worked harder and more passionately to be completely dismissed than I have…”

XWF Climate Scientist #2 furiously tries to dive on Flynn’s back for his comment, but the other two manage told XCS2 back, assuring him that Flynn isn’t worth it.

On Flynn’s screen, Irwin (Flynn’s #1 fan) wags his finger.

“Don’t be so glum, Mister Flynn! As Ned Kaye told you during WarGames… Rome wasn’t built in a day! We’re changing some minds!”

Flynn scoffs. “Yeah, that oil baron… Did you know he left the studio in a submarine? We’re LANDLOCKED! Where can that sub even go from here?”

“Still, one person thinking you’re heroic? Progress, Mister Flynn! We need to move onto Phase 2 of your heroic rebranding… A rogue’s gallery!”

…

“Rogue’s gallery?”

“Villains, Mister Flynn! A nefarious foil to highlight your heroic qualities!”

…Flynn squints skeptically. “Wait, I thought we needed the whole ‘Team-up with Ned’ operation because we couldn’t find a villain bad enough to make me look good?”

On Flynn’s screen, Irwin is replaced with a series of images… Of nefarious historical villains of the XWF!

“We’ve taken the first step, pairing you with a white-meat goody-two-shoes in Ned Kaye! Now, it’s more believable that you might pursue altruistic heroism in your solo adventures! But, a hero is only as good as his villains! To truly put you on the hero map, we’re going to need a dastardly deviant to direct deadly danger at decent denizens.”

Flynn purses his lips, as he approaches his Honda Fit. “Yeah, fine, if we can find the Devil, that’d be great. But, I don’t think good villains are so plentiful that you can just trip over one walki-”

TRIP! Flynn loses his footing…

AND BY THE THROAT IS IMMEDIATELY SCOOPED INTO THE AIR!

“Quick, Climate Henchmen!” Flynn coughs, being choked! “Defend your master! Make a… big sun, or whatever you do!”

…The three climate scientists look at each other…

Then run away in separate directions.

“COWARDS!” Flynn calls out, before being lifted further into the air…

By a 6-and-a-half-foot-tall, blonde-haired, blue-eyed dreamboat android.

“Chad GPT?!?” Flynn wheezes through the limited air in his larynx!

“Heheh, oh, Mark Flynn… Perhaps, it is Chad GPT in appearance, but with a superior North Korean driver at the wheel!”

…

Flynn’s eyes widen!

“NK?!?!?”

“In the flesh…”

Chad-NK grins almost humanly as he reels back his titanium fist.

“So to speak…”

“...oh shi-."

SLAM!

***

Hey, Lou.

Louie.

Ol’ Dockodile.

Thanks for stopping by.

Seems like people are excited about this match, huh?

What a meeting this is shaping up to be.

In one corner, the FOURTH-MOST-DAYS AS AN XWF TITLE HOLDER.

Against the THIRD-MOST-DAYS AS AN XWF TITLE HOLDER.

The only way it could be more exciting is if it were first and second, huh? Heheheh…

Unfortunately, number two, Robert Main… Was beaten so badly, he left the XWF.

…

Beaten by me, of course.

But, forget that for a second.

Dockarino? This is historic. Literally.

We two are pieces of living wrestling history.

These children on the roster? These kids we LET walk around in the locker room WE own?

They go out there in that ring, trying to find the magic that we exude so effortlessly.

Truly, this may be the wrestling match of the fucking decade.

…

It could be.

If you were a shred of your former self.

The XWF Universal Champion.

King Dock.

A fucking GOD of the wrestling world.

…

But, let’s face it.

If you wanna talk about Dock’s achievements?

You gotta look pretty far back in your rearview mirror.

His Uni Title reign? 2015.

Winning King of the XWF? 2021.

What has ol’ Hickory Dickery done since then?

Not.

Fucking.

Much.

We’re talking three… THREE! matches since the start of 2022.

What fucking energy, Lou. Santa Claus works more nights a year than you do.

And when Dock does show up? Underwhelming.

Ol’ Dockles got drafted first by Thaddeus Duke at the 2021 WarGames… And wound up losing by two whole competitors.

He got ker-UNCHED twice in a row by ALIAS… Who, sure, we all thought he was unbeatable… at the time… But, since then, ol’ ALESY’s on a two-match losing streak. Dropping matches against Corey Smith and Raion Kido.

Isn’t that funny, Loubastank?

Corey beat ALIAS.

See, some people haven’t noticed this. But, ever since Continuum broke up? Corey’s been making you look miiiiiiiighty stupid.

Remember when you shat on Corey for dropping “your” tag belts? Said Thad was a fool to bring him into Continuum? Said he was beneath you. Your trio’s weak link.

Then, you got pinned by Corey at WarGames.

And two years later, after taking a 4-to-2 lead, Corey and Dolly wrecked your squad and sent you out of the ring on your ass.

Corey beat ALIAS, the one guy you never could.

You might think… Well, damn.

Corey’s the guy.

Corey’s the MAN.

He’s got the momentum. He’s got the spark.

Who could possibly beat Corey right now?

…

Mark.

FUCKING.

Flynn.

That’s who.

I grabbed Corey Smith by the arm, in the center of that ring, and I CRANKED UNTIL HE PASSED OUT FROM PAIN.

I pinned him last year at the Cannabis Cup.

I earned a shot for the Universal Title.

And I BEAT THE FIRST MAN WHO EVER MADE ALIAS LOOK MORTAL.

…

Which brings me back to my question.

What the FUCK have you done lately, Kangalou?

…

It’s funny to me, Lou.

For such a monster.

Such a legend.

You keep losing… And pointing to the reasons it’s not your fault.

You lose the tag belts? It’s because Corey and Thad were defending them. Not you.

You lose WarGames? It’s because Thad and Chaos didn’t follow your directions. Sure, you got pinned before Thad did… But that’s beside the point.

You lose your next WarGames? Thunder Knuckles took a bribe and let you down. Eventhough he outlasted you in that ring.

See, Dock, eventhough he’s an XWF LEGEND.

Apparently, give him the wrong teammate. The wrong extra variable…

And all of a sudden, the guy goes to pieces.

…

Well, at Warfare, Dockenspiel?

There’s no one to blame.

There’s no one to let you down.

One-on-one.

You versus me.

And I think the Dock of yesteryear? Dock in his prime?

Would be salivating at the chance to swing against one of the greatest to ever lace boots.

…

But now? I gotta imagine… There’s an unfamiliar dread in your mind.

A sense of impending doom.

Because I haven’t wrestled three matches in the last two years, Dock.

I wrestled three matches LAST FUCKING SUNDAY.

I COMPETE EVERY SINGLE CHANCE I CAN. I’VE DEDICATED MY EVERY ATOM TO ELEVATING MY GAME TO THE HIGHEST LEVEL POSSIBLE.

I AM THE PINNACLE OF WRESTLING.

Not its past? But its present.

…

And I look at my opponent right now.

Not what you’ve done… But in this moment.

And I see a doddering old man.

Whose sharp fangs have dulled.

Whose claws have broken…

Whose weak eyes cannot see past the end of his nose.

…

And I smell an easy meal.

…

King Dock is dead.

Long live the King...

Cause of Death?

Mark.

FUCKING.

Flynn.