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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » "Savage Saturday Night" RP Board
Soft Deadline Connie Told Me Size Doesn't Matter
Author Message
Charlie Nickles Offline
The Nickleman



XWF FanBase:
Drug addicts, rebels, weirdos

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


#1
10-22-2021, 10:59 PM

[Image: 11.jpg]

We open with a shot of a lit match in otherwise total darkness. A broken man speaks to us from the otherside of the handheld camera.

It’s been too long. Too long since you held that championship belt.

Trust me, I know the feeling of losing ol’ goldilocks. How she felt on your waist was like no other, even in her new, rather ugly form. That’s okay tho. Ugly belts need love too. You don’t have to convince me of that, Vita. I am, after all, the most notorious Heavymetalweight champion of all time. I was the champion that was so dominant that management was forced to end the division entirely.

Oh those were the good old days. But why sit back and reminisce when I can kick ass and be blessed with bliss? My record setting reign as the TV champion was my floor, not my ceiling. But the walls I built on top of those floorboards….well, let’s just say they won’t do. They won’t do at all. Those walls have been rotted by the tests of time. They are filled with maggots, infested with lice, covered in cockroaches. They simply won’t do. How could I ever place a glorious ceiling on such disgusting walls? How could I ever construct a house with such middling ramparts?

I have to go back to my foundations and burn all the fodder to dust. But that’s okay, that’s what I’m in the process of doing during these very moments. That’s all I’ve been doing these last few months.

But you, Vita? You’ve taken the opposite approach. You’ve placed a haphazard ceiling on your makeshift partitions. You’ve sunk your fangs so deep into mediocrity that your very foundations are beginning to crack beneath the sands of time. The sands of time seem so content to bury your now carnivorous castle. The grains of sand are pouring through the holes in your walls, but instead of having the good sense to do what I’m doing with my palisades, you decide to just place a ceiling over your head and call it a day. Call it a career.

Did Sarah Lacklan and Kenzi Grey put you up to this? Did they inspire that decorative mural you painted on your glass ceiling? I always knew you liked the ladies, Vita. Centurion is as butch as they come. Your induction into the vampiric mafia is certainly an upgrade even if it is just in your own sick twisted fantasy.

It’s not a bad way to end a career, after all. To end a story, to end a life. To wither from life to undeath to ash. It’s not the way I would go, of course. That whole bloodsucker shtick is more played out than Robert Pattinson’s asshole. But we’re very different people, you and I. Vita Valenteen and Charlie Nickles. We truly are two ends of a spectrum. Two ends of many spectrums.

6 foot 3 and 5 foot nothing. The living and the dead. The longest reigning television champion in recent memory and the shortest reigning television champion in recent memory. The gas guzzling giant and the fire fearing nosferatu. The predator and the prey…..but don’t get that last one confused, Vita. You should know by now that the Nickleman only hunts the most dangerous game. I hunt Lacklans, Dukes, bastards, baddies, and now…...vampires.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

It would have been all too easy to square off against mortal Vita and walk away from Spooky Savage with a win for a second straight year. But where’s the fun in that? A woman’s screams can only take a man so close to the finish line. To really feel alive there has to be some resistance. The mortal Vita just wasn’t going to be up to par no matter which way you slice it- she was never going to push my limits. She was never going to give me a good thrill. What chance does an Anarchy B-Lister have against the Nickleman? None at all.

But a Vita-Vamp with extra-human strength and speed? Now that might just make for a fun fight after all. Those limp noodles that Vita calls arms could barely lift a finger to stop me, let alone a fist. On a normal day I would run circles around Vita Valenteen and her stumpy oompa loompa legs. But the Vita-Vamp? She might just make something out of those nothing noodles.

I saw what she was able to do to Marf- running around that ring in the blink of an eye, flying from post to post like a bat out of hell. She was looking like something fearsome in that match…..until I saw what Marf was able to do to her. The Marf show roared to life once more as the hellfire cascaded across Vita’s pretty little face.

Are you still pretty, Vita? Or did the flames char your flesh to the bone? Was the Marf show too bright and fiery for you? That’s okay, Vita. You weren’t going to keep your beauty forever. Ugly women are just like ugly championship belts- they need love and attention too. Even if their boiled skin smells like fried beef. Even if you have lost your beauty, Vita, I promise you will still get fucked by the Nickleman next week. You will get fucked hard, fucked fast, and fucked UP. The Nickleman doesn’t discriminate against any woman, no matter how disgusting and brittle they become.

I’m not much of a looker myself, or so I’ve been told. I was just riding around in a wheelchair last month, so am I to turn down a romp with a burn victim? I look forward to having some alone time with you next week, Vita. I think my gentle caress may be just what you need to really come back to form. Connie always said I was a great masseuse…..

But those days were long ago. My hands have grown calloused since then. My heart has grown colder. The fire in my soul has started to burn hotter…..I don’t think Vita can put it out.


The broken man behind the camera blows the match out as the scene fades to black.


EARLIER THIS MONTH


You are an idiota, Charlie!

LSM stands in front of Charlie Nickles with her arms crossed and an enraged expression showing behind her mask. The pair are standing in a narrow hallway backstage at the Radio City Music Hall.

Take that damn mask off, girl, I can’t hear a word you’re saying.

I am glad Elijah Martin kicked your culo!

Hey, FUCK YOU TRICK!

No, FUCK YOU Charlie! Mi madre said that you were at the wrestling camp with her when I was conceived and that I should talk to you about mi padre. So I came to and I talked to you and you said you had a yearbook with his photo in it from the camp, but you lied to me! All you did was make me dig up old drogas and Elijah Martin made you pay!

Did you come to the Radio City Music Hall just to yell at me? What is it about you women that makes you want to kick a man when he’s down, huh? Don’t you have a shred of sympathy?!

Not at all! Not even a small amount! I don’t give a damn about you anymore, Charlie! Not after that trick you pulled on me!

Are you just here to bitch and whine?

OOOGGGGGGGGGGH I HATE YOU CHARLIE!

LSM stomps into ground, balls fists, looks exasperated. Charlie just rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.

Join the club. I swear every woman in this federation hates me. What is it about a strong and confident man that women hate to see?

It’s the fact that you make me drive out to the middle of nowhere and dig up old METH!

I don’t think that happened.

What do you mean you don’t think that happened?!?! We just did it last week!

You know what? I’ve been smoking some bad meth recently and it’s really fucking with my memory. Maybe that happened, maybe it didn’t, I can’t really say- and frankly, who am I to judge?

You’re a piece of shit, Charlie!

Since when did you start swearing, girly?

When I realized that you lied to me!

Oh c’mon I wouldn’t do that! You’re speaking crazy!

This is called gaslighting, Charlie! This is why women hate you!

Charlie waves away the notion dismissively.

Women don’t hate me, I’ve always been a ladies man. Wasn’t it your mom that said you should hook up with me?

That’s not at all what she said, Charlie! She said you knew my father! She said you were with her at the wrestling camp!

The Mexican Wrestling Camp?

That's not at all what it's called, but sure Charlie, the camp you were at with my mother!

Gah there was a lot of women there, okay? I don't know which one your mom was. I'm not really sure I can help you.

She was the only woman there, Charlie!

Yeah but there was a lot of those feminine, bitchy wrestler types. You know, knockoff Corey Smiths.

LSM rubs the temple on her masked forehead in frustration. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before exhaling and staring straight into Charlie's glossy eyes.

You need to quit using drogas, Charlie! At least long enough to tell me about Nikkolai Charmos! That's all I need to know, Charlie, I just need to know more about mi padre!

Nikkolai Charmos, eh?

JESUS, CHARLIE! Yes! We talked about it on the whole drive down to the border! Why are you acting like this is the first time you've ever heard his name?!

Look, I've had a hard couple of weeks, okay? Someone broke into my house and tried to murder me. Then Dick Powers pretended like HE was my attempted assassin in order to distract me from my REAL assailant! It was a sick trick. So excuse me if I've been a bit distracted lately! If you had a serial killer after you, I think you'd probably be a little bit scatterbrained too!

Dick Powers literally never pretended anything of the sort! You are crazy, Charlie.

Maybe. Just maybe.

Charlie looked off into the distance, almost as if he were entranced by the very notion of insanity.

Why can't you be a decent person for FIVE FUCKING MINUTES, Charlie?! Why can't you just tell me what you know of.....Charlie? Charlie are you even listening to me?!

Charlie continues to stare off into the distance, irritating LSM even further.

CHARLIE MY MOTHER IS DYING AND YOU CAN'T EVEN DO ME THIS ONE FAVOR?!

CHARLIE?!

CHARLIE!!!!

LSM snaps her fingers in front of Charlie's face repeatedly. The sound of the snaps brings Charlie back to the conversation. He shakes his head before rubbing his hand through his short brown hair. He turns back to face LSM with a befuddled expression plastered over his leathery face.

I-I......I'm sorry.

Charlie reaches into his pockets with both hands. He pulls a lighter out of one pocket and an oil burner out of the other pocket. (Google it)

Let me just....

Charlie brings the green oil burner up to his lips and begins to slowly inhale as he flicks the bic lighter on underneath the bowl. A few seconds go by before Charlie turns the lighter off and brings the oil burner down from his lips.

What are you doing....

Charlie exhales a huge cloud of crack smoke to the side of the screen.

CHARLIE ARE YOU SMOKING METH RIGHT NOW?!

No, no. I told myself I'd stay clean from now on. The last batch I had was sour...I couldn't sleep for days before my match with Elijah Martin. It's only rock cocaine for me from now on. I need to stay on top of my game.

LSM slaps the oil burner out of Charlie's hand, causing it to shatter against the ground. Charlie looks down at the broken glass with dismay before turning to LSM with anger.

WHAT THE FUCK, BITCH?!

LSM slaps the absolute dog piss out of Charlie with a savage backhand. Charlie immediately collapses to his ass from the force of the blow.

You need to stay clean, Charlie! You need to get off those fucking drugs, at least long enough to help me find mi padre!

I'M THE LONGEST REIGNING TELEVISION CHAMPION OF ALL TI-

I don't care, Charlie! You may have been great in the past but you've turned yourself into nothing but a crackhead! Mi Madre is on the ventilator now, so if I want to find out more about mi padre I need you to get your caca together! You need to stay clean, Charlie! Just long enough to tell me about mi padre!

I....I don't know if I can....

Charlie looks longingly at his shattered oil burner from his seated position against the wall. The soft and tender hand of the anarchy champion cuts down the middle of Charlie's loving gaze.

You don't have a choice. Now get up, and let me help you.

How could you possibly help me fight these demons?

Charlie looked up at the masked luchadora with doubt in his eyes and an emptiness in his soul.

And how could you possibly help me find mi padre? I have no idea....but what other options do we have? Destiny has led us down this road, Charlie, and I won't get out of the car until I know who mi padre is!

Charlie looked at the oil burner, then back up to LSM. Charlie grunted with disfavor before accepting LSM's hand up.

[Image: 27J5l3J.png]
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