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Centurion · (05-28-2020)

#BlackLivesMatter

Tula: He’s not going to show.

(We are only a few days away from War Games, and things couldn’t be more hectic.

The loss of Robbie Bourbon and Calvary, followed by the decision of the XWF to not replace those wrestlers has put Team Centurion into full panic mode. The XWF Hart Champion is now relying on Tula Keali’I, who is only a few months into her professional wrestling career, and Chris Chaos, a man with whom he has a long and troubled history with, to get even get the team in a possible position to win the War Games Match Tournament Weekend Extravaganza Thingamabob.

Centurion drafted Chris Chaos in the fourth round, mainly relying on his experience and his ability to win some matches. Never would he have expected Chaos to have to be one of the best wrestlers of the weekend. But that’s the situation he finds himself in. Now, not only does he have to meet with Chris Chaos to bury the hatchet and get them on the same page, but he needs to get a sense as to the state of his mental health, which has been checkered lately.

We open up at night in the woods, somewhere south of Parts Unknown. There, we see Tula Keali’I and Centurion, the only two people present. They are in a small clearing – a couple of picnic tables and one of those charcoal grills you see at campgrounds are in the area, but the rest of the area is completely surrounded by trees, and it looks like this particular clearing has not been used in some time. Centurion is sitting on top of a picnic table smoking one of his clove cigarettes, while Tula leans against a tree with her arms crossed in front of her.)

Centurion: He’ll show.

Tula: Will he? You sent one message to a man who hates your guts and who likely has some form of split personality disorder and told him to meet you in the middle of the night in a campground in the middle of nowhere.

Centurion: When you word it like that, it sounds bad.

Tula: I just think this is a pipe dream. The best case scenario is that he shows up, but even if that happens, there’s no guarantee he won’t immediately try to put the boots to you.

Centurion: If that happens, don’t get involved.

Tula: Wasn’t planning on it.

(Centurion takes a drag of his cigarette as Tula paces back and forth, looking out into the woods.)

Tula: How did you find this place, anyway?

Centurion: You’ll be surprised with the places I know. When I was “on the run”, if you will, I spent a lot of time in rural America. I figured, if my life was going to come to an end, it was better to do it where no one would dare look for me, rather than do it somewhere where TMZ would immediately find my body.

Tula: That’s…dark.

Centurion: There’s a lot that happened since the last time I spoke with you and your family. Your father buying me out was the best decision he ever made. Not long after that, I went crazy. Had a massive mental breakdown. The Board of Directors ended up removing me from the company, and I became a hermit. That’s why I didn’t know your dad had passed.

Tula: That, and because my brother is a piece of shit.

Centurion: (chuckles) That, too.

(Centurion takes another drag and exhales the smoke. Tula, who has had her focus elsewhere the entire time, finally turns to Centurion, and goes back to leaning against the tree she was at earlier.)

Tula: Would you have come back to wrestling if you didn’t hit rock bottom?

(Centurion looks down on the ground. It’s a loaded question – one that requires a lot of backstory. But there is no time for that, and this is a better story to tell at a bar rather than in the middle of the woods.)

Centurion: I don’t know. All I can say is that I’m glad I did. Despite all the bullshit lately – Nathaniel Idenhaus, Shane

, Robert Main, essentially everyone trying to discredit me and my career – I still find myself enjoying life for the first time in a really long time. Who knows if I will say that after War Games? This industry is notorious for chewing up people and spitting them out. But right now…I’m happy.

(Centurion takes another drag as Tula takes a deep breath. She turns her attention away from Centurion for a second as she searches her own thoughts.)

Tula: I hope to one day say the same.

Centurion: You’ll get there. Trust me. Eventually, the high of performing in front of the crowd will become like a drug to you. You’ll constantly get a shot of adrenaline that you won’t be able to find anywhere else. It’s why so many of us come out of retirement. It’s why Shawn Warstein is still here 20 years later, and why James Raven feels the need to step out of the office and into the ring once and a while. It never goes away.

Tula: You say that like it’s a good thing.

Centurion: Yeah, well…

(Centurion takes another drag of his cigarette and exhales.)

Centurion: I’m not always known for making the best decisions.

(Tula goes back to pacing back and forth as Centurion continues to just sit at the table, and no words are exchanged. The two sit in silence for a few minutes, with only the sound of the wind and various woodland creatures being heard. Finally, Tula breaks the silence.)

Tula: How long are we going to sit here?

Centurion: I don’t know. I’m willing to wait here all night.

Tula: You’re a crazy person. We shouldn’t have come here. There’s snakes and coyotes in these woods. I know you want to win War Games, but I want to make it there first.

Centurion: If you’re scared, you can leave.

Tula: I’m not scared. I’m practical. We’re sitting here waiting for a man who may want you dead. One of my previous jobs was dodging bullets, and we learned a thing called “mitigating risks”. Step one – you don’t just sit in the middle of the fucking woods waiting for something to kill you.

Voice: The lady’s right.

(Tula and Centurion quickly turn their heads towards the sound of the mysterious voice. A figure walks through the woods, but is barely seen – only a black silhouette and the sound of crunching leaves and sticks gives away the position of the person. After a few seconds though, the figure comes closer, until they step into the clearing. It’s Chris Chaos, the man they have been waiting for.)

Chaos: You shouldn’t have come here.

------Misplaced hate makes disgrace to races------

If someone is looking for a way to make me happy, I have a suggestion for you – put Robbie Bourbon’s head on a pike and place it in my front yard.

For weeks, I had to hear “I’m undefeated in War Games! I know how to win these matches!” I bought into the hype. I was under the assumption that Robbie Bourbon actually wanted to do something to resurrect his dying career. I figured he’d come out guns blazing, like he did against Engineer, and would be difficult to take down. That’s the bill of goods he sold me, anyway. Instead, what we got was a flake who turned his back the moment the pressure started to rise. He walked out on me and he walked out on this team. He’s fucking dead to me.

Also, if anyone wants to bring me Theo Pryce so I can punch him in the God damn face, that would be great, too. “Oh, we had to make some changes.” So you decided to give Warstein and I a distinct disadvantage by guaranteeing we will have three or less team mates in the main event? What kind of bullshit is that? Is Robert Main paying you off? Or do you just want him to win because a “strong bad guy” sells more tickets?

Next time someone wants to say I benefit from being friends with management, show them the absolute travesty that is this War Games…and then slap them in the fucking face. Clearly Theo doesn’t want Shawn or I to win. I knew that about Shawn, and that’s primarily because Shawn put it on himself. I mean, he tried to take people who weren’t even eligible for the draft. The dude trolls. It’s not a surprise that Theo would want him gone.

But in the process of trying to handicap Shawn while also making things look “fair”, Theo has decided that he WON’T replace Calvary and Robbie Bourbon, despite being told multiple times in the past that we would have the option to get replacements. “Oh, well there weren’t enough replacements hurpa durp…”Ok, but you found a replacement for literally every other team? And you found enough people to have an opening match? Why didn’t you just put Red-X on Shawn’s team and Boris on my team? At least it’s SOMETHING.

On top of that, Russian Rose gets injured, and instead of having to go through the normal channels of finding a replacement, Pryce just lets Main replace him with Rose’s brother. How the fuck does that work? If Chris Chaos got hurt prior to the match, would Theo allow me to replace him with his half-brother, who just happens to be a Panzer tank? I doubt it. And let’s not even talk about how Shane

somehow gets both Hired Gun AND Tommy Gunn. That’s two Guns. I don’t have a single gun. How is that fair?

Oh, I’m sorry, I’m “whining” again. Because that’s what it’s called when I call this bullshit out. When anyone else does it, it’s called “talking trash” or “putting a spotlight on inequality”. For some reason, only when it’s me do these boot lickers and vampire fetishists call it “whining”. Main and Page walk out every week and talk about how they feel disrespected, and now they have to wear masks and look like Batman extras for some reason, and they’re never called “whiners”. Just call it like it is – you don’t like that I’m not some character plucked out of a movie, and it pisses you off that I’m still somehow getting over and winning wrestling matches.

Which leads me to my first target, Doug Whitford. Yo man, congratulations! Welcome to the XWF! You’re my bitch now.

It’s quite hilarious hearing you talk about people being “boring” when your entire promo was just a copy/paste of everything people have already said. What’s your deal? You’re a white dude that likes to use the “N” word and toss out a few personal jabs and some offensive language so you can be considered “edgy”? How so original of you. You keep chasing those breadcrumbs from the 4chan wrestling crowd who will turn on you the minute they find a new shiny toy to play with.

I will say, one positive of you being so completely cookie cutter is knowing how this story ends – with you, gone from the XWF in a couple of months. Because that’s what happens to every shock value wrestler that steps foot in this place. They blow their load almost immediately, and they can’t find ways to keep upping their performance, so they burn out after losing a few matches in a row. Oh, it’s never their fault, though. It’s management for not “getting” them. And for allowing this place to be run by “pussies” or “cucks” or whatever the fuck incels use as an insult these days.

But at least you’re not Big D, the most predictable man ON THE FUCKING PLANET! Dude, you couldn’t even get five seconds into your promo before talking about last year. Let. It. GO! The fact that you were so God damn hurt by saying how Peter Gilmour and Rain were shitty picks is just a testament to why you never succeeded here, and you never will. You’re so incredibly thin skinned. You take every little jab as a person insult towards you. And you chase revenge instead of working on winning matches. You may not have had to retire if you focused on anything other than me insulting your team for the past 12 months.

You should thank your lucky stars you got drafted where you did, and to the team you did. If you didn’t do the whole “mystery competitor” gimmick, you would have been taken in the last round. But you had to pull the wool over everyone eyes, hoping the allure of the unknown attracted someone to you. Did you hear the crowd when you announced you would be in War Games? It was meant with the loudest “meh” I’ve ever heard. No one gives enough of a shit about you to care.

Shawn…you know you’re fucked. You know you’re not walking out of War Games as a survivor. First of all, you know the team you drafted is just two large turds floating in sewage, but even if you somehow fluked your way into eliminating my team, you’re very likely to go into the main event alone. And the XWF did everything in their power to stop you from winning the captain’s match. You really think they’re going to let you win the entire War Games tournament?

Trust me, this isn’t me disparaging your skills. I’ve been in the ring with you enough times to know that’s a good idea. This is just the reality of the situation. They gave you the worst team imaginable, took two members away without giving you replacements, and telling you to not only go through the one person who knows you best out of this entire roster, but to then beat a Robert Main team that may be at full strength and who all want you dead, or, by some miracle, a Shane

team that’s willing to do whatever that demented fuck wants them to do, which may or may not include ass play. The greatest wrestler in the world can’t overcome those odds.

And look, I know my odds aren’t much better. My team consists of one wrestler who hates my guts, and another wrestler who has been here for a cup of coffee. If I get past the Universal Champion and his bottom shelf team, I’ll be staring down the barrel of several guns. This may very well be an exercise in futility.

And you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I’ve built an entire fucking career out of people counting me out. I love that Main and Page are already planning their celebration ceremony. I love that Jenny Myst is picking out which crown she should wear when she gets “validated” as queen. I love that Ms. Direction is basically getting a free shot to the main event, since she’s going to be face to face with a man in Michael Graves who lost his balls years ago and who will throw the match just to help her win. And I love how Russian Rose’s brother gets to hop on the backs of established superstars and cost his way into the biggest match of the year without having to prove he’s even competent in the ring. I don’t give a fuck. Give Main 20 team mates. Let Shane

have a machete. Give Dick Powers a bazooka, because I’ve fucking had it.

We live in the shittiest timeline. Trump, coronavirus, police brutality, potential war creeping at any moment and the richest people in the world profiting off of it all. I’m sick of the shit I’m seeing in the world, and I’m sick of the shit I’m seeing in this business. I’ve given everything to this industry, to the point where I lost it all. I shouldn’t be alive today. You think any of you chucklefucks who call me “boring” and think I’m some pushover intimidate me?

I have nothing to lose anymore. I’ve made my peace with the world. I know my legacy is in tact, and everything I accomplish from here out is icing on the cake. You know how dangerous that makes me? While the rest of you are worried about what happens to your career if you don’t succeed, I’m just going out there and having fun. Every single elimination will bring a smile to my face, and knowing that all of you assholes who hate me will become furious after you see how far I make it only strengthens me. I used to do this for me. Now I’m doing it for you – more specifically, the anger it gives you watching me succeed.

For my next match, maybe I’ll just put a camera on a jar of mayo for 20 minutes. Maybe I’ll read the entirety of The Odyssey. Hell, maybe I’ll play Minecraft and speak in whispered tones. I’m going to become as boring and bland as I possibly can be. Then, I’m going break the record for longest XWF title reign, and use that to become the next Universal Champion, while the rest of you whiny bitches sit there and cry about how someone so “boring” is the biggest name in the company.

23 wrestlers. 23 potential opponents. At the end of the day, all of them are in my path, and all of them will meet their…

FINAL FANTASY!!!

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