Please Login or Register to get full access to the forums.

Lost Password?
Current time: 03-29-2024, 07:49 AM (time should display as Pacific time zone; please contact Admin if it appears to be wrong)                                                                


X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » Second Chance RP Board
Moving on
Author Message
The Engineer Offline
Man of Peace



XWF FanBase:
(.Awaiting user update)


#1
05-25-2018, 09:53 AM

Engy Recap!

Engy has FIRED his manager Madison Dyson! Now, the post Madison era has begun. But what will Engy do with it? And what does the spectral vision of Jim Caedus have to do with any of this?!


A keen eye will recognize the setting as being in the Engineer's old campaign headquarters. Once upon a time Engy was running for Senate before he capriciously decided that just wasn't for him and handed the campaign off to Madison. Thankfully for him, this building was paid off through the end of the year giving him the space to do....whatever this is....

Anyhow, the walls have been stripped bare, leaving the skeleton of a large white room with nothing but a long table and two chairs. Engy is currently occupying one of the chairs, and the other is more or less occupied by the ghost and/or mental image of Jim Caedus. Engy is leaning forward over the table in interest, his fingers steepled together as he considers the two other men standing before him.

Okay gentlemen, as you know I have chosen to terminate the services of my long time manager, Madison Dyson. With her services goes the use of her production studio and staff at Dyson Promo Production studios. So, I'm having to build from the ground up. But, as I'm sure you fine gentlemen are already aware, good television and film production lives or dies based on the quality of the direction it gets. And to that end, you two have reached the end of a long and extensive selection process. I think that'll suffice for exposition.

Caedus nods in agreement as the camera cuts to over Engy and Jim's shoulders, giving us a glimpse of the two candidates standing before him. It's acclaimed blockbuster director and consummate dude-bro Michael Bay and shock-master artist and indie auteur Lars von Trier. Caedus leans in towards Engy. Damn bro, I still can't believe you cut Spielberg so early.

Engy shrugs. Spielberg's lost his edge.

Come on man, Lincoln was dope!

Yeah, and Ready Player One was masturbatory bullshit. Case closed. Okay Michael, this is your chance. Pitch me something beautiful.

Michael Bay clears his throat and takes a step forward. He turns his Abercrombie and Fitch hat around backwards and takes off his wrap around sunglasses because you just know he's all about that shit. Oh Dex, you're not gonna regret this. Okay, close your eyes and picture this. Fade in on a crystal blue sky, it's perfect, cloudless. Shot slowly moves down and pans out on an equally beautiful beach. Megan Fox is there in a string bikini, perky tits moist enough to glisten in the sun. Her thumbs are tucked in the waist band of her bikini and just out of view, which serves the dual purpose of tantalizing you ever so slightly and concealing how weird and stubby her thumbs are....

Lars von Trier steps away wordlessly and walks over to the wall, where a fire extinguisher hangs. He picks up the fire extinguisher.

Suddenly, there is a commotion! The sea gulls instinctively know something is wrong and they scatter! The water behind Megan starts to froth, she slowly turns towards the water, camera zooming up and over the curve of her ample breasts. And then, a Decepticon rises from the water, in all it's fearsome and horrific glory! Megan emotes....kind of. It's never been her strong suit but she'll at least bring her hand to her mouth and play at looking like she swallowed her gum or some shit. She's scared! The Decepticon wades through the water coming closer...and closer....reaching it's claws out towards Megan who is frozen with terror!

Lars tosses the fire extinguisher between his hands back and forth, testing it's heft. Seemingly mildly satisfied, he starts walking back with it towards the front of the room.

And just when you think Megan is completely hosed, Engy this is where you come in! BAM! MOTHER FUCKING EXPLOSION! The Decepticon get's blasted to kingdom come by a huge fuck-off missile. An Autobot screams through the air (because this one is like, a jet, right?) just unloading on this Decepticon, missile after missile....BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! All the while he explains this Bay is gesticulating wildly like an eight year old describing an episode of...well, Transformers. BIG MOTHERFUCKING EXPLOSIONS! The Decepticon is down! The Jet autobot lands and you step out of the cockpit of the Autobot, the brilliant sun encapsulating your head like a halo as Megan runs into your arms. You smirk, put on some shades and say, “Now THAT's how you make an entrance.” Damn, I have an erection.

Lars von Trier drills Michael Bay in the back of the skull with the fire extinguisher, the accompanying crack of bone echoing off the walls as Bay drops like a lead weight. Lars, who is completely expressionless, casually drops the extinguisher into the rapidly forming pool of Michael Bay's blood. Dead eyed and impassive, Lars then looks up at Engy. We are all the bastard children of an ambivalent universe. Life is a meaningless series of unconnected tragedies.

Engy and Jim stare at Lars unblinking for a protracted series of seconds. Finally, Engy breaks the silence. Go ahead Jim, I know you want to.

Jim gleefully rounds the table and bends over the prostrate form of Michael Bay. He takes in a deep breath and then screams as loud as he can.....HAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!!!

Engy chuckles. Heh heh heh. Yeah, that'll never get old. Lars, show me what you got.

You take a claw hammer to the face of Finn Kuhn, but instead of blood black flower petals pour forth from the wound. You caress his hair as he dies, looking deep in his eyes as the light fades, then whisper something in his ear that the audience cannot hear. In the background numerous, violent rapes are occurring, and the screams of the victims harmonize into a grim rendition of Bach's Piano Concerto in D-minor, forming a perverse synergy of beauty and suffering that will leave the audience quaking, traumatized and nauseated, yet strangely aroused. A sexual response that will leave the viewer with nagging existential doubts about the nature of their morality and very souls for the rest of their days. Fuck you. I hate you. I hate everyone. Lars intones dryly.

Engy's mouth is hanging open in shock. And then, slowly, he brings his hands up and starts a slow applause. Jim joins in as well. Engy shakes his head emphatically “yes” and points at Lars. Hoooollleeeee SHIT do you have this job!

I don't care. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to tether Michael to the back of my Porsche and drag his body for miles and when the police stop me I'm going to call it an art installation. Lars starts to heft Michael's bleeding body onto his shoulders.

Hey man, you do you. But, uh, can you start Monday?

Lars looks back at Engy, his expression still hollow and dead. Yes. 9 AM.

The champ claps his hands together. Wonderful! I'll draft the paperwork! Have fun with with Mikey there.

Lars walks out of the room with Michael Bay as Eny kicks his feet up on the table. Caedus turns back towards him, taking a moment to spit out a couple teeth that have come loose in his rotting gums. Good choice, 'Eng. See, I told you this would all come together without Madison.

Engy looks up at the ceiling, rocking back casually in his chair. I know, right? This is turning out better than I thought. I can't believe I hesitated. Suddenly, he drops his feet back down with a cheeky smile on his face. Jim picks up on it instantly.

Promo time?

You bet your pasty, fried, likely non-existent ass it is!

Engy turns towards the camera, never losing that playfully malicious expression.

Oh Finny poo, you're disappointed you didn't get served a verbal evisceration? Okay, let me just go ahead and rectify that for you. But be careful what you wish for and all that....

Finn Kuhn might not respect me? Oh dear sweet Jesus NO! Finn Kuhn doesn't respect me as a human being. That's okay though, I don't respect you as a human being OR a competitor, so I guess I got no stones to throw there. But I just wanted to congratulate you on your ability to take a cheeky one off remark I made and extrapolate on it to imply I don't give a shit about competition because I like getting paid. As if needing to make a living off wrestling and appreciating the competitive drive are mutually exclusive. That might be true....except for all those times I said I VALUED competition. All those times I went on and on about wanting to fight the best of the best...the Robert Main's and the Jim Caedus' of the XWF....only to get stuck with the Crown Prince of Lowered Expectations (that's you!). Son, it is precisely BECAUSE I love competition that I am dropping this deuce on that piece of abstract art you call a face.

Finn, you want to lead the XWF to the promised land? Bitch, you can't even lead yourself to a winning record. How many times, just how many fucking times, have you gotten on the stick and promised to be better, to show more heart than the competition and all that other “feel good movie of the year” pablum only to royally screw it all up once again? I would be taking this seriously, hell, I WISH I could take this seriously....but for want of a reason to do so. You don't provide that reason Finn. You just don't. And that's a damn shame for a number of reasons, paramount of which is the one valid point you did make, which is that the XWF has been through some tough times recently.

This promotion needs a win. It needs to let its fans and the wrestling world at large know that it's still a global competitor and that it isn't going anywhere. It needs a fucking stacked card with the main event to end all main events serving as the crown jewel (did ya like what I did there?). But instead what we get is me, doing what I always do and kicking ass, fixing to break my foot off in some twiggy little Kraut puke who considers himself God's gift to the XWF despite his inability to stay off his back.

Do I need to spell this out for you some more? 'Kay.

YOU GOT FUCK ALL ON ME.

I know it. The brass knows it. The fans know it. YOU KNOW IT. The odds makers know it. Your mother knows it. And, oh yeah, once more with feeling....YOU DAMN WELL KNOW IT.

The elephant is in the room, it's giant steaming dump is stinking up the place and there you are holding your nose and pretending it don't stank as you juke and dodge around your problematic record and propensity for dropping the ball in big money matches.

“What is a champion?”

Fuck if you know. So I'll tell you. A champion takes on all comers. A champion is dominant. A champion is decisive. A champion is not perfect but they learn from their mistakes. They evolve. They improve. And when they hit that stride...they're CONSISTENT.

Now, I've never been much of a numbers guy, but I'll give it a go here. My XWF record is 19 wins, 2 losses and 2 draws. My first loss came last summer in a tag match with Madison. My second, just recently in another tag match where my kid bailed on me. My singles record is damn near perfect. I won the King of the Ring when nobody thought I could or even wanted me to. I tore through legit XWF legend John Samuels like a hot knife through butter, humbling and humiliating him on his way out the door. I beat the best XWF superstar of the modern era Jim Caedus TWICE, albeit he was far from in top form during our second go round. I held the Xtreme Championship for over 6 months in what just might be the longest reign with that championship of all time.

You see that? It's called being forthright. Now, my record with the truth ain't exactly stainless, but when it comes to my performance I don't need to obfuscate or hide like you do. Because quite frankly, it's just that fucking good. You can't supply that same level of transparency because you can't touch me. Period. And yet you're standing there, cocksure and arrogant and telling me that YOU are what this company needs as champion. That you have earned the right to hold this honor. That you're GOOD enough to be Universal champ.

Finn, you're not even close.

You wanted an evisceration? I hope that made you happy. I hope you're sufficiently GUT FUCKED. Because now, I'm going to do even WORSE than that. I'm gonna ignore you. I'm gonna have a moment with the man who SHOULD be in your spot....who actually DOES deserve to be Universal Champion. And that man is James Raven.

James, this should be your match. But it's not and I'm sorry. I have had it easy so far as champ. Gilly and Finn just don't rate. You do. And after Second Chance I'm going to rectify all this. I'm giving you a chance at my Universal Championship. Name the date. Hell, you can even name the stipulation. And if I survive that, stack 'em all up. Send Robert Main out there so we can have another go. And if my heart's still beating and the blood still flowing after that then start getting legends on the phone. Dig up Deville. Let me take John Madison for a spin. Let me help John Samuels find his smile again. Fuck the Second Chance battle royale and whatever mediocrity it vomits up. Vinnie....Darius....Shane? You got your listening ears in? No more of this Finn Kuhn shit. I want the real shit....the GOOD shit.


Engy laughs, his dark eyes sparkling with a kind of gleeful malice.

Oh Finny-kins, does that sting a bit? Make the old butthole clench? To be ignored? To be an afterthought? I'm thinking months past you boy, you're already in my rear view. And you know what? When it comes to you, that's how it always should have been. You mote...you speck. You total absence. You absolute fucking NOTHING.

I will never care about you. I will never take you seriously. And you have no one but yourself to blame for that. Now let's get this over with and tank some buyrates so I can get on to the fun stuff.

Wanker.


Jim then leans in to the camera. Yeah, and I didn't mean all those compliments I gave you after our match either!

The champ looks askance at Jim, quirking an eyebrow. I'm actually not sure they can see you buddy.

I....oh.... Jim stammers. Well fuck you anyway, Finn. Just in case.

Just in case, indeed.

END!

[Image: 9QBn3eQ.jpg]





Edit Hate Post Like Post
[-] The following 3 users Like The Engineer's post:
(05-28-2018), "The Wolf of Afghanistan" Joshua Schuler (05-25-2018), Finn Kühn (05-25-2018)




Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)