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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » Relentless Day 3 RP Board 2019
Be careful
Author Message
Lacklan Offline
World's best at making murderhobos cry



XWF FanBase:
The 'cool' kliq fans

(booed by casual fans; opportunistic; often plays dirty while setting the trends)


#1
09-27-2019, 03:26 PM



[Image: S2joDVT.gif]

I see you, Vinnie.

I see that look in your eyes when you look at me. I see lust. Lust for energy. Lust for chaos. Lust for relevance. I see your lust for ME. I see what you WANT and what you NEED from my House.

And then this tournament came around. The cry went up for teams.

And now I see another kind of lust. I see the lust in your eyes when you look at Mackenzie. I see the hunger. Is it for us? For the Grey-Lacklans? For what WE do better than ANYONE?

I see it.

I see you.

The NEED for ratings.

For controversy.

For money.

We give it up, don’t we, Vinnie? Just like how I was that shot in the arm your company desperately needed back in March, the 5’2” Mafia is what you NEED now for ratings. For attention.

Be careful what you wish for.



* * * * * * * * * *


Sarah cannot see in the heat. Its hot. So hot. Fans all around her, screaming, pointing. She shakes her head and leaps back into the ring on instinct. She sees one of her best friends, and perhaps most personal of rivals, laying on her back in the middle of the ring. Oddly, she's clutching her neck. She doesn’t remember anyone working on her neck. But this match was chaos. Many people. Many agendas. Only one survivor. This was HER environment.

She grabs her best frenemy by her golden locks and pulls her up to her feet. It takes some work to position the taller woman, but she is able to bend her backwards and hook her face under her arm. She pushes the air out of her body and drops onto her own back, driving the back of her friend’s head into the mat with a reverse DDT. She immediately rolls over onto her stomach and hooks her far leg for the pinfall attempt.

Once, the hand of the referee slaps the mat.

Its so loud in the building that she cannot hear, only feel.

Two, the hand slaps.

She cannot see, her thick contacts have become fogged by the heat.

Three, the hand-

Tears. All she knows. All she feels. Tears streaming down her face. Her mind tries to rationalize but it can’t. She rubs at her eyes, at the tears, part of her mind telling her to stop, she’ll ruin the contacts. They’re expensive. She has money but-

She’s squeezed tight. The warmth, immediate and intimate, of her partner. Joy on her dark face. She loved Kenzi's face. The freckles. She named them, once. Josephine. Nash. Janet. Bre-

“AND NEEEEEEWWWWWWW-”

Tears. Hot, heavy, unrestrained. Ten pounds of gold in her lap as she sits on her rump on the mat, her partner holding her tight, her best frenemy now holding the back of her head along with her neck.

“WORLD’S CHAAAAAMPIIIIONNNNNN-”


* * * * * * * * * *

For months, Vinnie. For fucking MONTHS, I have been the drive and spirit of your whole fucking company. Oh sure, the Apex have been doing coolio things while hording the titles, right? Sure...except for the fact that they wrestled so few times across the year that entire DROVES of fans got so bored with watching Jobber vs. Jobber matches along the Warfare tour that it took ME to help you sell out when I came in for the King of the Ring. Oh sure, Lux went on a TEAR as the Television Champ after I beat him, but then that whole thing with him tripping and falling on his face in this tournament. Oh sure, the Xtreme Title has been held by a billion people, each more pathetic than the last as the entire division is awash in a sea of dullness so deep that even Mastermind’s mind-numbing brand of bland seems exciting. Hell, the literal ONLY thing going for your company since I’ve been here that doesn't have my name attached to it is Tony whooping ass with the Hart title! THAT has been badass to watch. But other than that? NOTHING.

Hell, even this TOURNAMENT would be lame-as-flame without the 5’2” Mafia and you KNOW it. Filled with shitty-as-FUCK teams from forgotten CWC territories, randomly-assigned groupings thrust together when you visited RandomLists.com, an Apex that became so dull with the addition of freakin’ Nedward that Drew and Raven fell asleep...literally fell asleep...a couple of weeks ago, groupings of pissbaby legends who gave up halfway through the verbal salvos, and the worst...the WORST...of the bunch are the freakin’ new champions.

The fuck IS this shit, Vinnie?! I mean, I GET how bad Carnes is, right? I mean, we’re talking about the dude who got the opportunity, was GIFTED the goddamn OPPORTUNITY, to fight ME one-on-one on Savage, and the fucktard decided to send everyone to La-La-Land with his monotonous and derivative drivel of promo “skills” instead of putting on a pair of Big Girl Panties and giving the Queen her due. And what happened, Vinnie? WHAT HAPPENED, VINNIE?! He got BEAT. Clean in the middle, no questions or worries or cries of conspiracy, the dude just got rolled up and BEAT.

And then! AND THEN! He’s given a SECOND CHANCE to fight me, a SECOND CHANCE to make up for his lackluster outing back in July and how does he follow that up? HOW DOES HE, VINNIE?! He sips a drink on a beach, not even bothering to ice the pea-sized jewels his own partner kicked in a scant few days before, and pretends that not only does the 5’2” Mafia not matter, he decides to pretend that the fact that he’s added to my FUCKING INSANE 18-1-1 XWF record is unworthy to even MENTION.

The fuck IS this shit, Vinnie?!

No WONDER you needed this shot in the arm. No WONDER you salivate at the very THOUGHT of us. No WONDER you get that 4-inch tent pole going when the 5’2” Mafia are in town. Because this? THIS?! THIS is what you call a champion? THIS is what you call an elite member of the XWF roster?! Someone so lazy and unfocused that he would rather slide into “just barely existing” from his cesspool of inconsequential rubbish of an existence at the last moment than stand up tall and face the onslaught before him. THIS is someone who is far more Janos Slynt than the Ned Stark before him. And believe you me, winter is coming for this dipshit.

You know what is going to happen at the Rock Hard Stadium, Vinnie? An embarrassment. A FUCKING EMBARRASSMENT. See, FIRST, the show is going to start with some dumbass air boat race, right? Because, holy fuck Florida is a giant pool of shittiness that even makes Carnes’ existence stop and say “Damn, dude, that’s pretty shitty.” Some dumb race that will be won by some dumb jobber who can only find some dumb relevance in some dumb XWF hallway full of Madison’s “promos” full of just random offensive words thrown together and a Heavymetalweight champ so boring that we all axly wish we could see some Kid Kool randomized code for a little flavor. And after that dumb race? We’ll get a freakin’ Barney Greene match for no reason and end up watching Mastermind suck in another title division before the main event is all about the most offensive rape and dick jokes that can be found in order to show how “great” the World Title is without Main. But in the middle of that?

Oh, in the middle of that?

I get the opportunity to throw Carnes off a ladder and through a table covered in chairs. And the crowd, Vinnie? All those neckbeards mashing on their phones in order to get some kind of “scoop” of the event and get a little rub off my #SquatBooty? They are going to go NUTS. They are going to stand up, their bellies wobbling with so much jiggle at once as to cause a tsunami of nerd sweat, raise their cups containing some gross mixture of overpriced beer, Bang! energy drinks, Famine’s never-ending clown tears, and the sweet musk of shame HIGH into the air, and yell out over and over again:

“HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”

And as Kenzi takes down the titles and I hoist the Tag Tournament trophy in the air, as Carnes lays in a heap of broken wood, bent chairs, and the ever-thickening weight of his own failure, he will FINALLY hear the one thing he has always wanted: A crowd of people cheering for something he was a part of. Well, at least a crowd of people who are NOT a group of destitute Caribbean hookers he paid off to pretend to give a damn. And they WILL be cheering, Vinnie. They WILL be hollering and hooting. They WILL continue that tired chant of “HOLY SHIT!” over and again as they see Carnes’ broken body laying in a pool of his own floundering career. He WILL finally have a moment that he can call his own:

The moment the 5’2” Mafia became the XWF Tag Team Champions by beating the fuck out of the most recent waste of space to get in our way.

And just remember this, Vinnie.

REMEMBER THIS, VINNIE

You wanted this.

Be careful what you WISH FOR, VINNIE


* * * * * * * * *


Sarah is the Best, Sarah Number One
Rox

Roxy

C’mon

Talk to me

I didn’t know, damnit!

I DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT MY STEP-MUMSIE

I’m ready to talk whenever you are. I WANT to talk.

Sarah sighs as she sets down her phone. Another text sent that hasn’t been returned.

BZZZZZZ

She grits her teeth as more ink injects into her shoulder and her eyes water behind her thick glasses. Sitting on a stool beside her chair, a thin man covered in a tapestry of tattoos gently, yet firmly, applies the gun in his hand to Sarah’s pale shoulder with an explosion of yellow. The pale skin is turning red from the work, but the three-dimensional cross is finished and the sunburst surrounding it is beginning to fill out.

A dark hand reaches out and takes one of Sarah’s and gives it three quick little squeezes. Sarah’s red eyes are full of thankfulness as Kenzi gives her that small touch of support. The caramel beauty, her long micro braids pulled back into a high tail atop her head, is covered in her own army of tiny tattoos, though she was not adding to them today. Sarah’s other shoulder, equally bare and free thanks to the halter top the Anarchy Champion wears, features the well-shaded tattoo of a hellish white mask.

“She’ll come around.”

Sarah nods at Kenzi’s words. Her greatest achievement, and the reason for the commemorative tattoo, was at Roxy Cotton’s expense.

“Vinnie hasn’t spoken to me, either,” she says before wincing at the pain in her shoulder again. She hisses through her teeth again and looks back at Kenzi. “Not a great sign, considering that we are heading to Miami in a couple of days to fight for a couple of his championships.”

Kenzi shrugs slender shoulders.

“Is what it is, babe. You start fires.”

She smirks and suddenly Sarah’s body feels more than just the warmth from the tattoo artist’s gun. That smirk stole Sarah’s heart the moment they met nearly three years ago.

“WE start fires.”

Sarah returns the smirk and puts out her hand and closes it into a first. Kenzi mirrors the movement and the two bump their fists together.

Somewhere in the distant sky, a falcon screams in warning to the world.

* * * * * * * * *


Know what pisses me off, Vinnie? Know what REALLY bugs me? It’s bad enough that Carnes is that “just gonna read a bio and base everything I know about you and that and not bother to look at your matches or promotional videos or- hey! How did I lose?” guy...you remember the haiku I wrote about only scratching the surface...but Justice is the same! Isn’t he supposed to be the DECENT person on his team? Isn’t he supposed to be the dude that makes everyone go “Woah! Who is THIS guy?!” But no. NO NO NO. I just get ANOTHER waste of time.

Like, I get it, ya know? All you have to do is look at me and my terrible Elsa beauty, note my perfect posture, my superior diction, and craxballz eye for fashion, and know that I come from money. Legit, just a WHIFF of me and even some peasant understands that they are dealing with royalty, with superior breeding, with destiny which is MANIFEST. But! Oh, BUT! To NOT go deeper? To NOT push past the surface? Good Lord!

No adversity?

I have never faced adversity?

I HAVE NEVER FACED ADVERSITY, VINNIE?!

I SPENT SIX GODDAMN MONTHS IN A WHEELCHAIR TWO YEARS AGO, VINNIE

I spent MONTHS in recovery, Vin-Man. I battled my body telling me to stay down. I battled my FRIENDS telling me to stay down. I battled Kenzi telling me to slow down. Hell, I battled my own FUCKING SHAKING HANDS while I relearned how to lift and how to apply the Pigeonwing. I fought through ALL of that to be where I am today. I fought through ALL of that bring me, the woman of truly superior genetics, into the XWF to change the entire course of this company.

And anyone...ANYONE...who bothered to take even a SMALL, TEENY TINY dive into who and what I am KNOWS that. Hell, even the Boston PISSBABY understood that! And THAT guy is the biggest idiot this side of Dildo Baggins! And Steve, the man who PROMISES that justice will ALWAYS be served, has the AUDACITY to walk into THIS match with a half-formed plea to the Heavens based around the SHITTIEST take I have heard in the last two weeks? You have GOT to be kidding me!

But I know you’re not, man. I KNOW. And THAT is why you need me. THAT is why you need the Grey-Lacklans. THAT is why you need the chaos and controversy we bring. THAT is why you need some who can actually cause some change, who isn’t afraid to raise their hand and say “Um...this is all stupid?” and call someone an asshole when they need to. THAT is why you need the 5’2” Mafia. Because your tag team division’s BEST right now is lead...LEAD...by a dude so lost in his own tiny little pocket of reality that he has no idea who or what he is facing in Miami.

But you know the worst part, Vin? What is WORSE about Steve-O not bothering to defend his newly won championships with anything even resembling skill in an attempt to show that it wasn’t just momentary luck and circumstance that propelled them over the Apex last week?

He fully dismissed Kenzi.

Sweet Baby Jesus.

How many times, Vin-Man? How many times will people in this tournament pull the “DUR I DONT KNOWS” game with someone who has been featured in...what...75% of my nearly FORTY promotional videos for this company? Kenzi LITERALLY has been the subject of FOUR INTERVIEWS by our own Sayors! And STILL she gets this disrespect. Someone should mention to Justice that...hey...Fuzz and Noah dismissed her and she won the match. Famine and Slater dismissed her and she won the match. And this time? After I toss Carnes through that chair-strewn table? Its probs going to be HER pulling down those titles after they dismissed her.

Because that’s what we do, man. Over and again, you have heard it from us. We are a team. We win and lose as a team. We consider our singles championships as much a team effort as anything else. And our teamwork, something gravely missing throughout this tournament, will be on full display in a couple of days. Our chaos and controversy. Our ability to fuck people up and win championships. Our ability to turn entire COMPANIES on their head and make even the baddest of asses yearn for the bosoms of their mothers. Fully on display.

The 5’2” Mafia is here for you, Vinnie.

We’re here to grant your wish.

You’re welcome.



* * * * * * * * * *

The doors of the Rock Hard Stadium's backstage burst forth and the heads of XWF staff members look towards them in surprise. The staging area for the logistical nightmare that was the 3-day Relentless event was filled with equipment, people, and supplies, and more than one wrestler took the time and opportunity to rest while they could before the show began in proper. The light spilling into the building from the bright day was quickly cut off by the curvy figures, both short but with a presence to dominate the room, as Kenzi and Sarah stride inside. The two seem to be laden with gold, as Kenzi wears her UGWC Chaos Championship on her shoulder, Sarah her UGWC World Championship around her waist, and her XWF Anarchy Championship on her shoulder. Both carry large black duffel bags, both of which show the tips of trophies and other awards within. The sea of workers split as the reeds before Moses, none offering resistance to the controversial duo, until one person stands resolute before them.

Vita Valenteen.

While Kenzi silently takes a smaller step to fall behind, Sarah marches directly up to her opponent and the two stand nose-to-nose. The entire room is silent, the tension holding them in place, with the day’s Main Event threatening to occur just hours before they find themselves in the bowels of the HMS Pinafore.

Vita smirks.

Sarah pats the Anarchy Championship.

No one knows who threw the first punch, but the chaos that incurred resulted in many staff members filing worker’s comp claims, the Anarchy Championship participants being dragged away from one another by security, and some threats of eternal bodily harm being thrown at one another.

Somewhere, Vinnie Lane finds yet another reason to smile at the chaos and controversy.

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