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X-treme Wrestling Federation » Warfare Boards » Warfare RP Board
Jabbin Wif Jim
Author Message
Thrax Offline
Registered but either hasn't added self to a roster yet or doesn't RP



XWF FanBase:
Drug addicts, rebels, weirdos

(the villain you love to hate; has cult following; may deal drugs on side)


#1
07-06-2021, 10:52 PM

We open with a shot of a partially visible table with minimal overhead lighting. Charlie sits on the left side of the table, dressed in his patented sleeveless plaid and baggy jeans. The man’s beard seems more patchy and gray than usual. Charlie rubs the nearly buzzed hair on his scalp before returning his hands to the tabletop and scowling at something just off camera, on the other side of the table.

You got something to say to me, punk?

The grizzled veteran leans forward as he speaks with a smoker’s roughness beneath his voice. The camera slowly zooms out to show the dingy table in its entirety. Jim Jimson, still in a wheelchair and wearing what is clearly a woman’s brown wig, is seated at the opposite end of the table. He’s dressed in hospital robes and looking down at a slew of white note cards laid out in front of him. Two nameplates flash alongside the bottom of the screen, one beneath each man. The flashing nameplate beneath Charlie reads ‘The Real Thrax’. The flashing nameplate beneath Jimson reads ‘The Real Jim Caedus’.

Come on Jim what’s the matter, cat got your tongue?

Charlie I just don’t know if I’m ready t-

No Jim, just stick to the notecards!

I still don’t know if I’m feeling well enough t-

You said you were happy that Demos was finally gone and your best bud is back! I thought we were friends…..aren’t we friends? Come on! Do this for me!

Jim Jimson sighs softly before picking up one of the many notecards that is layed out in front of him.

You’re dead.

Do I look dead to you, Jim?

Charlie fastened a cocksure grin on his face as Jim looked at him with a worried expression and a raised brow. Jim’s eyes were drawn to the yellow sludge rolling down Charlie’s neck and dripping onto his shirt. Jim shook his head from side to side as he blinked. Jim reached for a new notecard.

Y-

I’m clearly not dead, Jim. Why are you harping on this so much? Do you really think you’re facing a dead man on Warfare? Do you think I secretly pre-recorded all these promos? Do you think they’re going to roll me down to central park in a casket?

Charlie, I’m just trying to get through the noteca-

I’m far, far from dead! I’ve got a lot of life left in these bones, you can bet your sweet Caed-ass I do.

Ok, Charlie.

Charlie leaned back in his chair as he crossed his arms over his chest with confidence. Jim looked down at the notecard in his hands and began to form the first word on the card when Charlie suddenly leaned forward again, trying to stir the pot as he clasped his hands together on the tabletop.

But what if I’m lying? What if I AM dead?

Jim looked up at Charlie with exasperation.

What if I’ve been dead for a long, long time? There are a lot of moments where I could have died in my XWF career. SHOULD HAVE DIED, in fact.

I was mauled by a tiger let loose at ringside and trained to hunt me. Men aren’t supposed to escape from the jaws of a tiger. That should have been the end of me.

I have been thrown off ladders, off X-trons, through flaming tables….I could have died at any time.

I have overdosed on methamphetamine, heroin, xanax, oxycodone, spice, and bath salts all at the same time. THAT should have killed me. The paramedics thought me dead as soon as they threw my body on that stretcher….but in truth, I was in paradise. Relaxing. Watching. Rejuvenating.

I should have died a million times...but I was always invincible as long as Connie was by my side. It can be said that the day she left me is the day I finally died. I was never again the man I was. My compassion, my honor, my mercy, my sense of social obligation….it all died with her love.

But still I stand before you as the living dead man. The man who walks, fights, and fucks: but feels no pain, knows no shame or regret, completely devoid of humanity. I stand before you as THE NICKLEMAN.

But you’re sitting.

Charlie slams his right hand on the table harshly. A few specks of flesh fly off of Charlie’s hand as he swings it through the air.
Stick to the notecards!

God damn it where was I….fuck….LINE?

Charlie Nickles looks off screen for a few moments until given directions. He turns back to Jimson.

Right. I stand before you as THE NICKLEMAN.

A voice rings out from behind the camera.

His grandfather invented the motherfucking nickel!

The Nickleman is one of the few impossible travelers, able to transcend between the planes of life and death. Able to fall from the pinnacle only to rise from the pit. Able to transcend from the bottom of the card, to the top of the card, all the way now to the middle of the card. The one man who scorched in Hell BEFORE he soared through the skies!

Impossible Traveler? You’re not an impossible traveler! That’s my sweet innocent Betsy’s trademark! Damn it, if I wasn’t stuck in a bathroom taking a maaassssiiiiiiiiive fucking dookey I would come over there and defend her! Either way, you’re way worse than she is!

Betsy Granger is tough- you’re not tough! You're just a bitch and a pussy. A pussy and a bitch. A pussy ass bitch. A coochie clincher who can't EVER compete like a man. You belong in the Shooting Star division! But you know what? They’d kick your pansy ass seven ways to sunday over there, too! Betsy Granger, Atara Themis, Geri Vayden, and Miss Fury would all kick your ass! They’re all more dangerous in the ring than you are!

Charlie Nickles snorts in response.

Oh yeah? Then why haven’t they done it yet? They’ve had ample opportunity! I fought Betsy and Atara at the same time with a Jim Jimson tied behind my back and those bitches didn’t do anything but gargle on my muddy nutsack. Miss Fury? Beat her bitch ass twice, once in a battle royale and once in a tag match with that precious Barney Green you like bragging about having fought so much. Geri Vayden? I used to beat her black and blue just for sport!

What other shooting star do you think can beat me and just, for some reason, hasn’t managed to yet? Ned Kaye, the two-time Hart champion? I carried that little bitch to his biggest tag win of 2020 only to turn around and kick his ass on the very next card. Thunder Knuckles, reigning tag champion? He’s well known as Charlie’s bottom bitch in that rural stretch of Ohio between Lima and Steubenville!

Jimmy if you think you’re walking into a match against a weak man, you’re in for a rough go of it. You underestimate me like that and you might not ever regain the cognitive functioning needed to regret it. If you are in your gym preparing for some limp wristed dickbag that can’t beat Atara, Betsy, and Miss Fury like it’s his fucking job….then you’re preparing for the wrong fucking opponent. Once again. It’s becoming another one of your bad habits.

Jim nodded along as he tossed the notecard behind his shoulder and grabbed another one from the top of the table.

If you really get picked as a captain for war games you’re going to ruin the whole show. No one is going to watch the pay per view, because no one likes you. Anyone that you draft to your team is going to hate it, because no one wants to be on your team. Whoever gets drafted to your team is going to be seriously pissed off!

Maybe I should draft you then! It’s fun to see you get so worked up. It could be just like Leap of Faith if I drafted you! I could get you to work really, really, REALLY fucking hard. I bet you’ll be in that gym for hours on end, then I bet you’ll promote that pay per view like your life depends on it. That’s what you did for Leap of Faith….and you still lost. Why shouldn’t I draft you to my team and cement your newfound legacy of losing at pay per view matches?

That could be a fun little exercise, don’t you think? Ruining Jim Caedus’s return, forcing him onto the team of jobbers I’m going to draft. I’m really only going to pick the worst of the worst, just to make sure Jim fucking Caedus isn’t able to pull a Heruculean effort from out of his ass. I’m thinking Reggie Estrada and Chris Chaos, I think that’s the special formula to really tarnish Caedus’s image and render his never-ending efforts null and void.

Is that what you want me to do, Jimmy boy?

Charlie smirks at Jimson as Jim rolls his eyes and nods along. Jim throws the notecard to the side and grabs another tired talking point from the table.

You’re such a bitchass buffoon. What is it, prick? Hell didn’t want you? Are you just gonna pathetically ignore your own death?

Charlie squinted his eyes inquisitively in Jimson’s direction.

You’re really back on this death thing, huh? Is that all you could come up with in the free time you have between polishing all those trophies nobody cares about?

Let me make this real clear for you, punk:

I’m not Demos. Demos isn’t me. Never was, never have been. Now, did he take over my body with the help of some sort of black African magic? Yeah, that antifa-looking motherfucker sure did. Where did I find myself when he took full control of my body?

Hell.

How was it?

Jim asked with a playful positivity in his voice.

Great, it was awesome. Nothing but cookies and blowjobs.

Sick! I want to go to hell!

Yeah, all the little kids out there watching these XWF promos: they should want to go to Hell too. Trust me, kids, as someone who’s been there: Hell is a cool place full of cool people. When you die you don’t want to get locked up in Heaven with that stuffy Maryfucker who doesn’t even smoke crack: you want to go down to where the party is. Remember, kids: I’m a good, positive role model for you to idolize. Don’t listen to your parents, fuck your pets, and kill your little siblings.

Charlie Nickles leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smirk spread across his sagging face. The man’s fingertips left a thin trail of sludge atop the tapletob as he pulled his hands back to the edge of the table.

But that doesn’t answer the question, though! How’d you get out of hell? That’s supposed to be a forever kind of deal.

A good magician never reveals his tricks but lucky for you demented freaks, I’ve been bad to the bone ever since I was born. REBORN.

Sometimes you just get tired of fucking Marilyn Monroe and cutting off Hitler’s nuts. One night a pretty little Djinn came up to me and said ‘Hey there big pimping, what’s it going to take to get you out of this club?’. I told her it wouldn’t take nothing but a piece of her ass and some hot fetish gear. So the bitch hooked me up with a brand new body made into human flesh from demonspawn and hellfire so I could come back to the surface and bring hell up here to you fuckers.

Ala, Thrax was born.

Is that what really happened?

The record speaks for itself. Demos got burned alive, charred to ashes: by ME. Anyone with an iota of competence and merit can sift through the video archives for themselves and figure out what really happened. Either way, my main man offed that magic carpet whore.

Jim raised an inquisitive eyebrow and spoke with a genuinely curious inflection.

Your….main….man? I...I don’t rememb-

Yeah my big amigo! My former rival, former friend, former enemy, former tag team partner Marf Swaysons! Big Marf! He gutted that djinn and left that bitch laying in her own green blood. Then he stuffed her ass in a coffin and shipped her down the river Styxx to get the afterlife she’s earned.

But I’m not going down to get here like she came down to get me. The vibes were just all wrong with her, you know? I’m sure you understand how clingy and demanding some bitches can be, Jimmy.

Jimson nods in the affirmative as he reaches down for a new notecard.

Most definitely. Now….

Jimson looks down at the notecard before looking quickly back up to the visibly rotting man in front of him.

Rel doesn’t even like you. She quit the XWF after you told her you had a surprise for her!

Oh, did she?

Charlie grins wickedly as Rel Dixon comes sauntering in from off screen dressed in her Harley Quinn apparel.

Hiya, Chucky!

Rel Dixon curtsies before doing a dainty little wave to Charlie. Charlie blows her kiss before patting his lap with one of his sludgey hands. Rel Dixon giggles before plopping down inside of his lip and planting a big fat smoochy with extra tongue on his lips.

Ewwwwww

Jim Jimson speaks for the entire audience as Rel Dixon pulls back from the kiss while biting Charlie’s lower lip. Most of his lower lips comes with Rel Dixon, and she gleefully sucks it into her mouth before chewing it up and swallowing it down.

Hehehehehehe it tastes like love!

Charlie smiles before turning most of his attention back upon Jim. Charlie returns fire against Jim’s ‘magic bullets’ while rubbing the small of Rel Dixon’s back.

You really are one obnoxious cunt, you know that, Jim Caedus? I can’t believe you have the gall to compare ME to Gilly in a situation like this! Your little retorts are obviously obstinate characterizations based on nothing in this reality. Perhaps you live in your own little world, where Jim Caedus is still someone important, where Rel Dixon called it quits, where Charlie Nickles isn’t going to kick your ass tomorrow night!

Well bucko I hate to be known as a conqueror of worlds, but you’ve really forced my hand on this one.

That little sandcastle you’ve built up there in outer space, that little box in your head you’ve created just for yourself, I’m about to bring all that shit crashing down tomorrow night. You better have your therapist on speed dial and your meds at the ready because I’m about to give you a reality check so real you won’t even be able to feel it! You won’t be able to feel ANYTHING by the time I’m done with you!

Jim Jimson gulped as he wiped a few beads off his brow. He threw the notecard down to the ground before picking up one of the last cards still on the table.

Chris Chaos is cooler and more popular than you are. CHRIS FUCKING CHAOS, the guy who keeps getting universal title shots handed to him on a silver platter, the guy who gets higher booking on the card than me, Jim Caedus, is more popular than YOU, Charlie Nickles! The people don’t like you or care about you at all! In fact, they hate you! How do you feel about that, huh?!?!

Rel Dixon giggled while leaning into Charlie’s chest. As the woman pressed her face into his body his bone seemed to give a little bit, turning slightly concave. Charlie rolled his eyes while he bringing his free hand down onto Rel Dixon’s knee.

Why are jackals like Jim Caedus always performing for others? Trying to put on a show, trying to make other people like them? Are they really putting their bodies through torture just to please the weirdos who paid the fifteen dollars for a ticket to the shitshow?

Charlie Nickles shook his head from side to side in derision while giving a less than expressive snort.

That’s madness. I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks of my work.

I'm Doing this for ME. I’m not signing up to fight Jim Caedus because I want to impress people and get the ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaahs’ from the mindless crowd. I’m signing up for Jim Caedus because I want to feel his skull cracking between my palms! I signed up because I want to cripple Jim Caedus and make him go home to his sister with a non-functioning cock!

The fans are going to like it, of course the fans are going to like it: those rabid bastards lose their minds for any bloodshed and carnage that comes their way. Yeah, they all fucking hate my guts….NOW. And yeah, they’re all going to be rooting for Caedus to put me down….but when Caedus is laying there on the ground, reduced to nothing but a bloody pool of flesh and bones, they’re going to be buckwild.

The fans are fickle fanatics. They love passionately, but shortly, and with insatiable expectations. That’s why I never sweat the small fries sitting at ringside. Their cheers, their signs, their wants, their desires: it can all be horse piss as far as I’m concerned.

No wonder Jim Caedus carries around that long list of outdated and irrelevant achievements with him everywhere he goes: he’s one of those guys that needs validation from the rafters. He doesn’t have the confidence, he doesn’t have the will, he doesn’t have the resolve to do it on his own. That much is obvious. He tried to go it on his own back at Leap of Faith with that little ‘Who’s Thrax’ investigation he carried out. He got right up to the scene of the crime and caught the culprit red handed, but without the rafters there to validate his findings he immediately turned tail and apologized for the inconvenience. We’ll see how far Caedus can get tomorrow night in Central Park, without that crowd right there in the stands cheering him on. I don’t think it will be very far. But what do I know….I’m only the longest reigning TV champion of the human race, the reigning XWF promo of the month, the man who made Jim Jimson look like Jim Caedus for six months, and the man who’s going to make Jim Caedus look like Jim Jimson tomorrow night.

Ohhhhh yeaaaah, baby! Give him hell!

Rel Dixon plants a soft kiss on Charlie’s cheek as Jim reaches for the last notecard resting on top of the table.

Take a power bomb through the table….wait, WHAT?!

You heard the man!

Charlie slides Rel Dixon off of his lap while rushing to his feet. Jim Jimson throws the notecard away while frantically undoing the brakes on his wheelchair. Rel Dixon is bouncing up and down, cheering on Charlie as he rushes across the table towards Jimson!

FUCK THIS! I’M DONE PRETENDING TO BE INJURED FOR THE WORKMAN’S COMP!

Jim Jimson jumps out of his wheelchair and hops onto the table! The bald man’s cheap wig flies off his scalp as he runs across the table as fast as he can!

No! Jim, I thought you were my friend!

Charlie looks over to Rel Dixon as Jimson jumps down off the table.

REL! GET HIM!

[Image: bFUi3wA.png]
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