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Centurion · (06-29-2021)

(Even for those who know him, this is a new one for Centurion.

The XWF Legend is known for many different kinds of matches - the Canadian Rules match, submission matches, the War of Independence match - all very different from each other, but all have one very important similarity.

The match takes place in a wrestling ring.

So when the XWF announced that Warfare would take place from Washington DC and Centurion took the company up on the offer to accept the booking, everyone just assumed it would be in a normal match setting. Perhaps just a one on one contest inside the local arena. If he wanted to get crazy, maybe he'd ask for a ring to be set up on the National Mall and do it backyard style. Instead, what did he ask for?

A brawl at the Jefferson Memorial.

We open up in the rotunda of the Jefferson Memorial. There, we see a few tourists walking around, looking at various plaques and exhibits throughout the area. Also in the area is Centurion, who is rubbing his hand on one of the marble pillars. Behind him stands former tag partner and current resident of the area, Maverick. Next to Maverick is an old friend of Centurion's - Congressman Matt Cartwright (D-PA). They both look on anxiously as Centurion examines the structure of the building.)

Centurion: Oh yeah...oh, this will hurt someone real nice.

Cartwright: That's not something I would be saying out loud in DC, especially in the presence of a member of the House of Representatives.

Centurion: I've said worse in front of more important people. Have you ever told the Ayatollah to fuck off? Because I've told the Ayatollah to fuck off.

(Cartwright glances over at Maverick, who casually nods to confirm Centurion's statement. Centurion walks away from the pillars and up to the statue of Thomas Jefferson himself. He rubs his fingers over the engravings on the base of the statue.)

Centurion: Sure is a beauty. How heavy is it?

Cartwright: It's about 10,000 pounds. Made of bronze. What's interesting is that the statue was added four years after the dedication of the memorial itself. It wasn't in the original plans. I have no idea what they would have done with this space if the statue wasn't here.

Centurion: Do you think I could drop it on a person?

(Cartwright gives a blink of utter confusion as he stares directly at Centurion.)

Cartwright: Are you asking me if I think you can push over a 10,000 pound bronze statue that has been molded into the granite floor of a federal monument for nearly a century and has survived various natural disasters, arctic winter storms, and an attack on our country?

Centurion: Yes.

Cartwright: No, I don't think you can.

(Centurion snaps his fingers in frustration as he walks away from the statue and toward the front of the rotunda, which faces out into the Tidal Basin. Centurion takes a deep breath to breathe in the summer area as he takes in the sights.)

Centurion: You know, I'm probably doing Charlie a favor by throwing him into the water. I get the feeling it's going to be a really hot day on Wednesday. A dip in the Basin may just be refreshing.

Maverick: Yeah, you say that, until a boat comes by and takes your head off.

Cartwright: To the best of my knowledge, the Basin will be closed to water traffic on Wednesday night.

Voice: Allowing the radical Socialists to continue to cripple our economy.

(All three quickly turn around to face the direction of the voice that came calling out from behind them. They expected to see some random tourist tossing their two cents in. Instead, we see a bald man in a suit flanked by two young, skinny white guys with tight haircuts, wearing suits that are slightly too small for them. Both of the young men, who must be staffers, are holding to go coffee cups in their hands, and one is typing away on a smartphone of some sort. The bald man is immediately identified as Representative Andy Biggs (Asshole-AZ). Cartwright buries his head in his hand, knowing what is about to follow is going to be disastrous.)

Biggs: Andrew Cortinovis. What a surprise. You here to murder some patriots?

Centurion: Congressman Biggs. I didn't recognize you without the leather boots and red arm band.

Cartwright: (To Maverick) Get me the hell out of here.

Maverick: (To Cartwright) No, no, the good stuff is just about to begin.

Biggs: You know, we stop everything we're doing in order to appease you liberals. We make Juneteenth a holiday, shutting down banks and businesses and costing our economy millions of dollars. We shut down businesses over an illness, leaving millions without jobs and businesses shuttered across the country. And now we have to close up the entire Capital and halt all business because that terrorist organization known as the Xtreme Wrestling Federation wants to hold a show? It's pathetic.

Centurion: Maybe. Perhaps you should go ask Donnie to put a stop to it...oh, that's right. He's sitting on his fat ass in Florida collecting money from dumbasses like you.

Biggs: And why do you think that is? Is it because you won fair and square? Or is it because you rigged the election?

Centurion: Don't hate on us just because we did it better than you.

Staffer #1: In the states that flipped from Trump to Biden in 2020, there were massive Antifa protests in the major cities of those states over the summer, followed by a continuous decline in funding for law enforcement, making it incredibly easy for radical agents to manipulate the ballot.

(Centurion slowly turns his head to face the staffer, who is more than 20 years his junior, and who looks and speaks like someone who just got out of undergrad. Centurion looks him up and down before responding.)

Centurion: What's your name, kid?

Staffer #1: Kevin.

Centurion: Well, Kevin, do the Congressman a favor and get him some coffee.

(In one quick motion, Centurion grabs the coffee out of Kevin's hand and tosses it behind his shoulder, causing the cup to crash and coffee to go everywhere. Every tourist in the area has now stopped what they're doing and turned their attention toward Centurion and the staffer. The staffer looks angerly at Centurion and balls his fist.)

Centurion: Oh, please do it. Make me trending on Twitter. Here…(Centurion slaps the side of his face) I'll even give you the first shot.

(Kevin continues to stare down Centurion, but Biggs tugs on his jacket sleeve.)

Biggs: Kevin, enough! Go back to the office and cool off.)

Kevin: Yes, sir.

(Kevin stares at Centurion for a few seconds more before turning and walking away from him. As all this was going on, Congressman Cartwright slowly walked away from the situation, and is now nowhere to be seen.)

Biggs: You know what you are, Andy? You're an elitist snob. You're the kind of person that knows he's right without fact checking anything. You're an arrogant bastard that loves confrontation, and you have no desire to ever surround yourself with anyone who may disagree with you. You think you know about the plight of the average American, but you're nothing more than a billionaire who pissed away his money due to his own personal demons. If you ever get the impression that working class folks dislike you, that's why.

(Centurion rubs his chin as he looks over at Maverick, who just kind of snickers. Centurion takes a deep breath before responding.)

Centurion: I think you're a neo-fascist asshole, so concerned about your own career and your own personal wealth that you have blinded yourself to the world around you. I think you kiss the ass of Donald Trump because that's what you're told to do, and you haven't had a single original thought in years. I think you're a racist, sexist, homophobic, misogynistic dinosaur that should have been left in the 1950's, but that's to the prevailing society centered around white supremacy that runs our everyday life, you're not only pushed aside as a lunatic, but propped up by the very people that call the Civil War the "War Of Northern Aggression" and argue for the benefits of slavery. So, if you ever get the impression that I hate you, those are just a few of the many reasons why.

(The Congressman now stares down Centurion, and he looks as if he is going to punch Centurion. He clenches his fist and raises it to waist level.)

Centurion: Go ahead. Throw the punch. Then I'll have every right to whoop your ass, and if I do, I'll become the next US Senator from New Jersey. So go for it.

(The other staffer taps Biggs on the shoulder and whispers something in his ear. Biggs' anger slowly starts to go away as he unclenches his fist.)

Biggs: Enjoy your stay in Washington, DC, Mr. Cortinovis. I'm sure some day we will meet again, and at that time, you won't be so cocky.

------Aquae Vitae------

"I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man." - Thomas Jefferson, 1800.

I will admit - my career is in a bit of a spiral at the moment. Losing to Chris Page was a kick in the dick. I gave that match my everything, and to fall short, well...it kind of secures my place in this company.

I'm not a top contender, and I don't just mean for the Universal Title. I mean for any title. I am not going to be receiving any title shots anytime soon, nor should I. The only person really worth any weight in talent that I have beaten recently is Osira Themis, and she gets the opportunity to make up for that in two days. Chris Page spit on my grave, and now he's laughing about it.

Much like...my opponent this week. Difference is, it took Page 20 years to bury me. It only took him 3 months to bury Demos.

I'm going to be honest with you, Charlie - there was a time when this match would have scared me. You came into the XWF like a house on fire. You destroyed everyone in your path, and you impressed people so much that you earned a Universal Title shot in your second month in the company. That's incredible stuff, and while you weren't able to cash in on that opportunity, you were able to use it to springboard you into other opportunities. You became the Television Champion, and you looked like you were bound for a long reign. And then...well?

Then what? You've fallen on your ass, that's what. You picked a fight with Doc...and lost. You picked a fight with Marf...and lost. You picked a fight with BoB...and lost. You've lost every damn battle you've put yourself in, and it's all your fault. You didn't have to take part in any of these wars, and yet, there you go, charging into battle with nothing more than an empty Kalashnikov and a rusty bayonet.

And look, I know what it's like to lose fights. I've lost a ton of them, but the difference is...I don't really see you bouncing back from this one. Sure, you can change your persona again. You can put on a mask and pretend to fly or whatever the fuck it is you do, but the simple fact is Chris Page ended your career. He torched your ass so hard that you will never recover from it.

You want to know how I know I'm so much better than you, Charlie? It's because I know when to take advantage of my opportunities. Wrestling big time talent and losing to them all is something every wrestler goes through, but I would have found a way to beat fucking Ariel Dixon. "Oh, but I didn't want to…" cut the shit. Whether you wanted to or not, a smart wrestler knows how quickly your spot on the roster can be snatched up. What you saw as an act of chivalry could be the moment the XWF decides to move on from you. And why not? They already have an Ariel Dixon, who is fucking insane while also being hot. Why would they need Charlie Demos Thrax Nickels? But hey, I hope the poon was worth it.

It sucks, because I saw mass potential in you, Charles. Sure, you had massive personal life issues, and you were hooked on drugs, and all your wrestling seemed to be based on how much blood can leave your body at any time, but you were still good. But now, you're nothing more than a gimmick. The things people say about you have nothing to do with your abilities in the ring. If you're being talked about, it's because you hijacked a plane or some other weird shit. It isn't because you won a big match to propel yourself back into the limelight.

This match should be right up your alley, shouldn't it be, Chuckie? No wrestling ring. Everything is legal. No pin falls. Just brutalize your opponent and throw them into the Tidal Basin. Hell, it's so simple, I'm shocked you didn't come up with it.

Which is part of the reason why I did. I didn't want to pin you or submit you, because you could always turn around and say you "threw the match" or give some other bullshit excuse. I don't want an excuse here. I want you to be covered in blood, floating in the Basin, wondering what the hell just happened. And I want to do it to send a message to several people.

I want to send a message to my enemies that, just because I'm wounded, doesn't mean I'm dead. I can lose 400 matches in a row and still kick someone's ass, which is something I plan on proving this week.

I also want to send a message to you, Chuck. I know you think this match is designed to propel your career. You've been asking around, both privately and publicly, for this match for one simple reason - you think I'm beatable. It's ok, you can admit it. Everyone else has. I'm a name to cross off your resume before moving on to something else. It's literally what every wrestler in the XWF thinks of me at the moment, and I don't blame them.

But here's what I'm going to teach you, Demosis, and what I'm going to teach every other up and comer looking to use me as a springboard - just because I'm a "gateway to the stars", doesn't mean you're destined to become a star. If you're a great wrestler and you're the future of the company, then yes, you're going to beat me, as Corey Smith did. If you're a living legend and you're looking to avenge a bullshit loss of the biggest title in the federation, then you're going to beat me, like Chris Page did. But you, Thraxicity?

You're no Corey Smith, and you're no Chris Page. Hell, I can keep going. You're no Thunder Knuckles or Robbie Bourbon. Hell, I'd bet, if we had a gauntlet featuring you and members BoB, you may beat...one or two of them, but that's about it. Atara would beat you. Osira would beat you. Fury would beat you. I struggle to think of anyone on their team that would actually struggle against you. Maybe Herschel Kiss? MAYBE?

Herein lies the other problem with facing me, Demosiciois. I can make you a star, but I could also end your career. Beating me could send you into the direction of a main eventer and eventual Legend of the business, but a loss to me, that could send you on a one way ticket to driving a tram at Busch Gardens.

No offense to any Busch Gardens tram drivers out there.

Who are you going to be this week? Are you going to be Charlie, the troubled man who is fighting to get his kids back? Are you going to be Demos, the insane lover of brutality? Are you going to be Thrax, the masked man who is so much of a coward that he can't even show his face and has to do all of his attacks from behind?

Yeah, you think I forgot about your little "debut", Tracksuit? When you decided to show your...well, not so much "face", but yourself after my match with Atara and Marf? You clearly meant for Atara to be your target, but I was, what? "In the way?" Collateral damage?

Yeah, sure. Fuck you, and learn your place in this federation. Just because you want to be everywhere at all times, doesn't mean you have the stones to pull it off. You want to join The Left Hand? Be my guest. Fight BoB? Have fun. They will eventually tear the limbs off your body, but whatever. Have a ball.

But you bring me in, and suddenly this becomes my problem. And while some people may live by the phrase "the enemy of my enemy is my friend", I think that's a load of shit. We both want BoB to crumble, but you are not my friend. Not by a long shot. In fact, all you are right now is a nuisance. Get the fuck out of the way and let the adults fight. You're so far out of your element, it's disgusting.

I don't know if you can swim, Demoscicus. Honestly, I don't give a shit. If you die, you die. One way or another, though, you're going to be going into that Basin. Bring your floaties.

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