A compiled clip of Charlie's highlights rolls across the screen.
(10-11-2020, 12:01 PM)Savage Saturday Night Said:
Charlie LoveNickles goes for a clothesline on Tommy Wish. Wish ducks, and LoveNickles knocked Broken Oswald over the ropes with a monster clothesline.
Second Elimination: Broken Oswald Autem
Nickles is back up, and Miss Fury comes off the ropes. She goes for the springboard, LoveNickles catches her and propels her up over the ropes to the mat outside!
The crowd roars!
Sixth Elimition: Miss Fury
Miss Fury goes to walk away up the ramp. Graves turns and looks at her.
In this split second of distraction, LoveNickles clubs him in the back and tosses him over the ropes.
8th Elimination: Michael Graves
Charlie grabs something out of his colorful tights. Just as Bourbon is about to throw the killing blow, Nickles throws what looks like some sort of powder in his eyes. Robbie yells out and grabs his face.
LoveNickles comes out of the corner and clubs Knuckles in the back. The impact forces Barney over the ropes and to the mat.
9th Elimination: Barney Green
Nickles comes back off the ropes the other way, and clotheslines Bourbon.
FAT CHANCE ROBBIE IS OVER THE ROPESSSS!
10th Elimination: FAT CHANCE: Robbie Bourbon
Thunder Knuckles pulls himself up and Nickles goes to clothesline him over the ropes. Knuckles ducks it!
He flips Nickles over his shoulder!
Nickles LANDS ON THE APRON!
He grabs Knuckles by the face and brings it down over the top rope, then lifts him up.
SUPLEX!
WINNER, AND NEW NUMBER ONE CONTENDER - CHARLIE NICKLES!
Across the ring Jim crawls towards his corner where Charlie is tags back into the match! Charlie enters the ring as we see Legend slap TK across the face sending him spinning around into Charlie who drives a boot to the midsection of the Champion! Charlie hoists TK up in the air before delivering the Steubenville Screwdriver!! Charlie makes the cover as Legend looks on.
1!!!
2!!!!
THREE!!!
DING… .DING…. DING….
WINNERS VIA PINFALL - CHARLIE NICKELS and JIM JIMISON
One man has been singlehandedly terrorizing the Brotherhood of Baddies. Every Saturday night this one man is viciously assaulting this whole cabal of men and women, who now must live in fear, looking around every corner, checking under their beds at night, for Charlie Nickles.
This man has been violating the XWF’s weakest and most vulnerable faction every single week. On television, in front of sold out stadiums, his dominance over this burgeoning squad has been relentless and unyielding. In one battle royale, Charlie Nickles eliminated the entirety of the Brotherhood! He threw them over the tope rope one by one and two by two as he cruised to a shot at the television championship. Later that same night, he pinned Thunder Knuckles in the main event. Could it have been a preview of what we will witness in just one week's time?
Charlie Nickles is a known drug addict and child beater. None the less, he has soared to heights greater than anyone thought he would when he joined this federation just a few short months ago. He has since become reviled around the world for his demented demeanor. Hated by some, feared by most, Charlie Nickles has still somehow managed to gain a small following among the most hardcore fans. His sadistic style and brutal barbarism have proven too much for BoB to handle time and time again. As the wins have piled up, Charlie Nickles now finds himself staring down Thunder Knuckles as the two prepare to battle over the Savage Saturday Night Television Championship.
The match could very well turn into a crime scene, the only question is who will be the victim and who will be the predator in the marquee main event match up. Charlie Nickles is a bastard of epic proportions: drugs and loose women are not his only addictions. He has shown himself to be just as addicted to blood and violence as he is to heroin and pussy. He should be considered armed and dangerous at all times. But has he finally met his match? Will his career fade to dust as he takes on one of the grea-
Jim: HEY NARRATOR, SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH YOU GOD DAMNED DOLPHIN LOVING CUM SLUT!
FUCK! THIS ISN'T YOUR PROMO!
Jim: I don't give a shit! I'm here to kick your ass!
As Jim "The Jim" Jimson chases the narrator off the screen, a new figure walks into frame. Charlie Nickles is dressed in his usual get up. Nothing too fancy, just some shit he stole from the Goodwill a few years ago. He's wearing a black shirt and a plaid jacket with no sleeves. His blue jeans are ripped to hell and more than a bit baggy, but Charlie doesn't seem to care. He calmly walks into focus as the camera zooms in on his upper body.
I earned this title shot, no ifs ands or buts about it. In one fell swoop I dispatched each and every member of your faction, sending you all flying over the top rope one after the other. It was a fun time, no doubt, beating the dogpiss out of each and every one of you bitch boys.
Shit, management was all over my nuts after I suplexed your ass over the top rope to win my title shot. The fat cats and corporate suits wanted me to headline the pay per view, main event in a showcase against the one and only Bobby Bourbon. They wanted Bourbon V. Nickles part 2. But I told them to shove it. I told them I'm taking on Thunder Knuckles in the main event of Savage for the T.V. championship. Why did I do that? I got two reasons, bucko. And one of em's a whole lot more noble than the other.
First off Thunder, I took this match because I know I'm going to beat you. I know I could kick your pansy ass all around the squared circle in my sleep. I know you're the weakest champion in this whole federation. It doesn't matter what stipulation you pull out of your ass or what tricks you have up your sleeve. At the end of the day, we both know I'm just better than you. That's reason number one I told management to get stuffed and book me in another squash match with you. Beating Knuckles is like beating my meat: brutal, bloody, and a jolly good time every Saturday night.
But I got another reason for forcing management to put you in that ring with me again. They didn't want to at first. They know what's going to happen. They know they are going to be liable for the damage done to your body. They know your money-grubbing ass is going to sue them for all they got after I leave you broken and shattered in that ring. Your bones will be jutting out from underneath your flesh. Blood will drip from your skull like hot wax rolling down a candle. Your legs won't work and your neck will never feel the same again. Management knows this. They begged me to fight Bourbon instead, spare them the workman's compensation. But I just couldn't acquiesce to their demands. And it's not just because I know that facing you is an automatic win. It's not just because I know that you don't have the guts to stand toe to toe with me. It's not just because I am a better wrestler than you in every sense of the word. No, no. There is a higher purpose calling me. Leading me on this path.
I'm taking that belt off of you because I need to put on a show for the working man. Life's been hard for the common man these last few months. The economy has been crashing, families are losing their homes, good men are finding themselves out of work. But slimey shitbags like you, Thunder Knuckles, well you're just making money hand over fist. Your rich friends, your wall street buddies: you've all turned your back on main street and sold out the working man. And that just doesn't sit right with me.
The working man doesn't have much anymore. He's been picked apart and torn asunder by the moneyed interests at the top of the pyramid. Folks with money? I've never liked em'. They're rotten bastards, the whole lot of em'. In this day and age the working man doesn't have much, yet bastards like Thunder Knuckles still try to nickel and dime them for all they've got. Bankers, lawyers, business executives, and rich-boys like Thunder....they don't got any decency inside their hearts. All they know is take, take, take. The working man has no solace, no allies with the moneyed interests. All those folks do for working blokes is make their lives a living hell.
I'm a man of the working class. I'm a Steubenville boy, through and through. I've worked hard for every dollar I've earned, and I've never stolen a penny from an honest man. I hate to see the pain in my people's eyes when I walk the streets of my small town. I hate to see the families being evicted from their homes all because some worthless millionaire orders it. I hate to see the working families across this country suffer, day in and day out with nothing to look forward to.
But Thunder Knuckles, you're going to help me change all that. Willingly or unwillingly, frankly, I don't give a damn. You see Knuckles, when I took this match against you, I knew exactly what I was doing. The corporate cats told me to put the match on the pay per view, they'll make more money that way. I told them to go fuck themselves with a broken beer bottle. $60 for a god damned pay per view? My people can't afford that! But they still deserve to watch me beat your ass all night long.
We're going to be in Chicago in front of a sold out audience. I'm sure I'll be booed in that ring: all the rich fucks that bought tickets love you. But the people at home? The people watching Savage Saturday Night on their sixteen inch televisions from the comforts of their trailer? All the inmates watching XWF wrestling from the common room? All the druggies, hussies, and homeless folks watching our match from the other side of the Best Buy's plexiglass doors? They're all going to be rooting for me. And I'm going to put on a show for them, and win that god damned television championship for my people. For poor people. For the working man.
When I step between those ropes, you best beware because when I look at you, I don't see what everyone else sees. I don't see the fourth best wrestler in the JOB squad. When I look at you, all I see is the moneyed interests reigning hell upon my people. When I look into your eyes I see every landlord that has wrongfully evicted a working family. When I look into your eyes I see every greedy banker that stole money from my family's bank account when I was a child. When I look into your eyes I see every crooked politician, every business owner, every vulture waiting in the wings to pick apart the folks who are struggling just to get by.
When I come down that entrance ramp on Saturday night, I'm not just coming down there to beat you senseless and take your pretty little gold. I'm coming down to that ring to do a whooooole lot more than that.
I'm coming down that ramp to get vengeance. To get vengeance for every woman forced to kill her baby because she couldn't afford to raise it. To get vengeance for every man thrown in prison for selling weed while rich boys make millions off of it in Colorado and California. To get vengeance for every worker that was abused, berated, and exploited by their scumbag bosses.
You may have grown up a poor son of the working class, but you've abandoned it. You've abandoned our people in your quest for money and glory. You've abandoned our community, sold it out, just so you could make a few million dollars.
Was it worth it?
That's the question I want you to think about when you're laying lifeless in that hospital bed, unable to even wiggle your toes or wipe your ass.
That's the question I want you to think about when you're watching replays of our championship match, trying to figure out how it all went wrong as you watch your skull slam on the mat over and over and over again.
That's the question I want you to think about before you enter that ring with me, Knuckles.
But you don't do much thinking, do you? That's why you joined BoB, isn't it? So you can let someone else call the shots and do all the planning? You just want to show up and do as your told so long as you're getting paid a pretty penny. You'll turn on your best friends, leave fine men like Jim Jimson in the dust, just so long as you can make a few bucks.
You make me sick. You're greedy. You're heartless. You're the kind of scumbag who scam calls poor grandmothers, telling em' you're the I.R.S. and that if they don't send you their tax return you're going to sick the pigs on them.
You're fucking disgusting. You're a garbage human being. All you care about is money. You don't care about family. You don't care about community. You don't care about people. All you care about is the mighty dollar. You're nothing but literal human trash.
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