"Declining An Offer I Can't Refuse"
[continued from "Killing the Comedy, Combusting the Curtain"]








I turn down the XM Radio in irritation. I prefer golden age rap if pressed on the genre, I don't like this new age simplistic, repetitious, hypnotic horseshit...despite the fact the track currently playing seems to describe Cadryn's clique and one half of my Lethal Lottery Round 2 opponents to a T.

It's midmorning Sunday the 19th of February. Normally I'd be in-flight on my way to the next XWF venue but my seething hatred for my opponent at this week's rebirth of Savage has me stalking he and his cronies from Texas to California via four wheel vehicle. At this moment I'm following them, _again_, into a franchise fueling station.

Sunuva- That big, dumb, goddamn Darren Zirado and his shitty fuckin' van... What's he getting, 14 miles to the gallon? Second pit stop they've taken I haven't needed to gas up for, it's no wonder these three are so easy to tail.

'Makes you wonder why three incomes are pooling in a cheap ass church van spending so much on petrol instead of a nice blue Chevy Cruze Hertz rental like this.'

XWF Notification...

'Never On Cam Mystery Man/ager?'

Oh shit...I'm the new XWF Federweight Champion! How fuckin' sweet is that!?

'You won? After how filthy you played that game? I think maybe your conclusions of being so thoroughly hated were perhaps a bit presumptuous.'

Apparently so...I wish I wasn't so inundated with issues of insecurity.

'Your peers have been telling you you're golden...it's about time you took them at their word regardless of your reinforced problems with trust, now stop bein' such a pussy.'

Point taken... Ah...here we go...Hero's Mystery Manager _has_ responded.

"Yes Caedus, you're a fucking rookie..." (sigh)

I spend a full minute and a half perusing the promo, unable to prevent a rolling of the eyes like some prissy, privileged, waspy white girl.

'Promo time?'

Promo time.

...........................

"NOC, what the fuck did I say about you coming at me with something _worthwhile_? Are we actually assuming that over the span of two point one decades I've never earned one or both top titles in any promotion?"

'Well...you haven't.'

"Okay, truth be told, you're correct. I'm not gonna lie, lying is for pussies. I saw my comrade Sean Wiley claw his way to the top many times while I myself currently have yet to attain main event status...unless you count being the main event title holder for Savage."

'Whoops.'

"I _have_ held multiple titles in multiple feds; for instance, the UWF Tag Team titles with my brother John while a member of the feared stable The Cult, and I don't think many in this business see tag titles as 'rookie' status. Just ask Doctor SATAN!. But, to reiterate, you _are_ correct nonetheless, I've never been crowned a top champ and it's because I bounced from one stupid gimmick to the next. Of course, that's the whole reason behind my decision to enter the XWF as myself, not a character...and I dare say in my humble opinion, it's paid off thus far. Now I proudly hold two titles, NOC, a glaringly absent accomplishment for your own client pertaining to the only promotion that truly matters: the XWF.

In fact, by comparison with our roster's caliber per capita, I'd say the XWF Television Title is greater than any top strap in any other company...especially the troll-nation EWF. And here you are, NOC, downplaying the talent of the names I've defeated, calling them rookies. Names like Thomas Nixon. Nico LaVey. Cadryn Tiberius. Micheal Graves. Bobby Blackcoat. Reeve Gordon. Each of these men can and would CRUSH your client like a roach, smashing his guts out his ass with a sick pop. Hell, _Benito Angelo_ is a name on my list better than Hero Xtreme and he fuckin' no-showed our war of words.

And if we're taking into account _solely_ the accolades attained in the _XWF_ as a definition of what makes a rookie, I guess it didn't occur to you that you've accidentally defined your client himself as a rookie. After all, I don't see him holding either the _XWF_ Uni or Xtreme straps _now_ or _previously_, if your lengthy list of bragging rights is accurate, and I don't define Hero as the gateway to main event, so, from here on out, we'll go ahead and refer to him as Xtreme Zero Alpha. 'Fucking '. Now I get why you're the Never On Camera Mystery Manager. I'd hide my face too if my visage was held accountable for such jaded jackassery.

Talk about squandering time and opportunities to prove one's self: you can flambé panhead flamer Sulu clones all you wish but even the actual ancient ass-golem himself could kick Zero's ass with a rickety field goal kick to the clit. You've got it all backwards, bitch...I may be new here but it's Caedus, Buronan and our true opponent in Shaun Crowe, squaring off on the proving ground of Lethal Lottery IV, who represent the opportunity for YOU and YOUR client to mince your way outta the mudhole of mediocrity. I know you mean to act as if I haven't already pump handle pimp slapped you both since, at the very least, you're aware enough to not appear weakened...but 'murdering' 'monkeys', 'killing' queens and repeating the same stupid insults will get you _nowhere_ against me or Buronan. Keep struggling and sinking in the sand, like some tar pit trapped titanic Trannysaurus Wrecked, and you'll undoubtedly show yourselves the quickest route to washout."

A long black limo suddenly pulls in and parks beside my rental.

"And another thing, what has ANY of this to do in relation to physical competition in the ring anyway, _rookie_? I-"

"Mr. Jim Caedus?"
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I instantly pause the recording and look to the limo to spy a man as plain and nondescript as you can get staring at me from a rolled down rear passenger window. He lacks any sort of taste in fashion, clad in a colorless suit of gray and white. Reminds me of NOC. No bells, no whistles, just...mung worthy meh.

"Fuck do you want?" The man exits the stretch carrying a briefcase and enters the front passenger side of my rental uninvited. "Fuck do you think you're _doing_ dickhead?"

'Next time keep the doors locked.'

"I'm here representing Never On Cam Co., Mr. Caedus, and I've an offer a man of your financial status simply cannot refuse."

"Is that so? And what _is_ this offer?"

The man presents his briefcase, opening it to reveal several banded stacks of ten dollar bills.

"10,000 dollars, and I obviously don't mean xbux, Mr. Caedus. _Ten grand_ to bow out of the Lethal Lottery IV second round."

'_Ten k_!? Jesus jumped up jeri-curled CHRIST that's a lotta dough!'

"Lemme get this straight...Mr. NOC-"

"The master is no Mr."

"Okaaaay, _Ms._ NOC-"

"No. One doesn't _know_ the true gender of the master."

I get it now...Never On Camera _Ms. Mr._

'That explains it. _It's_ a transgender fucking cisgender outta hetero hatred. I guess your Trannysaurus comment was more apt than you could've guessed.'

"Fine. Again, let me get this straight unlike your 'master': the It who accepts 10k xbux payoffs from...well...probably NO ONE in accordance with cowardice, is attempting to buy _me_ off to save it's client from slaughter?" The master's servant taps the end of his nose. "No fucking deal."

'What!? Hey let's not get foolish here. That's TEN K.'

"Please tell me you're joking Mr. Caedus."

"I'll tell you to get the fuck outta my car before I rip the larynx from your throat and play it like a kazoo, cocksucker. Go back to your master and tell it you failed."

"You may live to regret your decision, sir."

"I highly doubt that. Get out."

The servant slams his briefcase closed, exits, returns to the limo and slams the door before it peels out (as best as a stretch can perform). I look back to my phone's lens as I zombie-up before unpausing.

...............................

"So it already comes to this, NOC? A bribe? I don't beg for change anymore, motherfucker, even if the denominations add up to ten fucking k. It's degrading to my work ethic and efforts in context with my goals in the XWF. The Lethal Lottery tournament is just as important to me as the Television and Federweight titles are...no amount of money could ever convince me to just throw in the towel and trash my opportunity at that 24/7 briefcase. No amount. EVER. For this insult, your client in Zero Xtreme Alpha is gonna pay...and not with cash...with his ass. And fuck your predictable quoting that as some sort of gay reference. This is your one and only wake up call, your one warning NOC: amp it up...because Buronan and I will be spinning that dial Spinal Tap style and cranking it up to eleven. Fuck a pussy and a payoff. I'm Jim fucking Caedus and this promo is over."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

TBC