A few days before Saturday night Savage…

We open to a somber looking Marf, standing quietly and looking down. Looking up at him from her Sailor Moon themed bed, Reika stares at Marf innocently. She is tucked in with a surprising amount of care and gentleness. Marf finally lowers down to a knee and leans forward. Reika grins and grabs his head before reaching up and placing a sweet kiss upon his forehead. There is a flash of relief that shoots across Marf’s face while he nods and starts to stand back up. Reika continues to stare up at Marf before speaking up.

Marfy…Lycana has been gone a long time…do you miss her?

Marf towers over the sweet, little living dead girl. He freezes as soon as the question is asked. His bold blue eyes haze over with sorrow briefly before he blinks and then smiles down at Reika.

I do miss her…and you already know that, so why did you ask?

Tiny Reika furrows her brow and then focuses back on Marf.

Some nights, before I fall asleep…I can feel what you feel if I think hard enough…

Now it is Marf’s turn to furrow his much less innocent brow.

Well, I am sorry you have had to experience any of that…

Reika sharply cuts Marf off suddenly.

You do NOT apologize for your feelings, not in this climate. Never forget that, Marf!

Marf’s right eyebrow slowly rises while he cocks his head ever so slightly.

Since when do you call me Marf? You need some sleep kiddo! I’ll see you in the morning, I’ll make you some flying saucer pancakes!

Marf turns and leaves the room while Reika calls after him.

Pancakes are flying saucers!

Marf heads downstairs and stops in the living room, spotting Damien sprawled out on the couch. He appears to be watching Jersey Shore family reunion. Marf walks up until he’s behind the couch and shakes his head.

Why the hell do you watch this shit? Your life isn’t interesting enough you gotta melt your mind with this nonsense?

Damien jolts in surprise before sitting up and turning to face Marf, an annoyed look already on his face.

First of all, I really enjoy watching bad things happen to the one called Snooki!

Marf can not help but cut in.

The fuck is a Snooki!?

Damien glares at him for a moment before snorting.

And second of all, why are you such a grump ass lately?

Marf grimaces and turns to leave the room.

Fuck off, it was just a question…

Damien puts the television on mute and eggs Marf on for some strange reason.

No seriously! No wonder Lycana took off for good, she needed to get away from your miserable ass. And now you take it out on me?

Marf spins and stares across the room at Damien. He begins to boil up like a volcano.

Watch it…watch what you fuckin’ say right now man.

Damien rolls his eyes and stands up from the couch as Marf takes a step towards him.

You know what, I’m getting real sick of you lately. You think you can just bully me around like some lesser third wheel, sidekick bullshit. I’m fucking done with it!

A silent rage has crept it’s way through every part of Marf’s body.

What do ya know, you do have a set of balls on ya! Look at you go, suddenly able to stand up for yourself. I’d almost be impressed if I didn’t want to rip your throat out.

A tsunami of tension has filled the room as Damien takes a step towards Marf now.

Ooooo mister tough guy act, I dare you to even try!

Damien’s eyes twinkle and for the first time it dawns on Marf he may be drunk. It’s too late though as the rage has taken control. Marf steps toward Damien now.

You fuckin’ asked…

Marf lunges forward while Damien dives directly at him. They slam into one another and they grapple around the living room, narrowly avoiding knocking over the television. Damien tries to wrench at Marf’s neck but he is lifted off the ground and thrown into the couch with force. Damien crashes into the couch and drops to the floor in a heap. He tries to roll onto his stomach and Marf immediately is on him. Damien scrambles and crawls away but Marf grabs his leg and drags him across the floor into the middle of the room.

Damien rolls onto his back and kicks at Marf with his free leg but Marf blocks it before letting go of the other leg. He kicks Damien back over onto his stomach. Marf drops on top of Damien and wraps his mighty arms around his neck and head. Damien squirms his hands under the arms so he doesn’t get choked. Marf places a knee into Damien’s back and alters his position. He begins pulling up and it looks like he is trying to rip Damien’s head off his body. Neither man hear the click of the front door unlocking.

Marf!

A single word, with all the power in the world behind it, because of who it came from. How long it had been since he heard it. Standing framed in moonlight at the doorway, was Lycana. Marf blinks, thinking she is a figment of his imagination, but she remains. She draws closer, wringing her hands in front of her. She had been gone weeks, and here she was. Her eyes flit over his face, before settling on his bloodshot, bold blue ones. Her mouth opens and...

Why are you trying to kill Damien?

Marf stares at Lycana in complete shock and awe as we fade out…

Somewhere in the realm of just days before Savage.

Those cold, blue eyes stare right into the camera as we open up to your hero and mine, the one and only Marf.

This is it, time is winding it’s way down to Saturday night and the big tournament. A night that will no doubt showcase your unrelenting hero, Marf, cracking three different skulls on route to a spot in the television title match at Bad Medicine. Betsy stole that damn belt from me as far as I’m concerned and I am on a mission to get it back. I’ll go through every motherfucker that chooses to show up on Saturday until I can exact vengeance and true justice upon that time travelling dipshit.

Marf stops and raises a finger for a quick second before continuing.

But let’s not jump ahead of ourselves here! First up is the demolition of the one calling himself Schism. And honestly, I hope he brings his fuck buddy Randy to ringside for this match. I would love a chance to shut both you cokehead fucks up at the same time. You wanna talk about fucking up? The same moron that signed up in the wrong spot wants to talk to me about fucking things up? Real powerful strategy there you dumb shit but let me lay something down for you.

I have won the freestyle and television titles on multiple occasions and I have only been here for a fucking year. What the fuck has Schism accomplished in that time? Nevermind, it pales in comparison and nobody with half a brain gives a flying fuck. I have done nothing but raise my stock since day fucking one. I’m not going to be stopped until everyone is left laid out and I’m the last one standing when Savage comes to a close. You do know to show up on Savage and not Warfare right?

Marf tries to hold it in but snorts and bursts out into laughter for a moment.

Sorry I can’t help myself, you actually attempted to say I’m as useless as dirt? You stupid fucking pile of morning after shit, you can’t even go a sentence without making yourself look . Absolutely nothing you say has any merit at all, not until you step into that ring and do something that isn’t stupid. I fuck things up? At least I know what fucking show I’m booked on and where to send my god damn promos. Wow me some more with your intelligence, fuckhead.

Marf gives his head a quick, sarcastic tap.

You sound like you won’t even know what you’re doing once you get in the ring with me. You’re walking, hopefully in the right direction, into a slaughter my new friend. Your lack of wrestling knowledge will not prevent me from stomping on your pug ugly face Schism. I will beat on you until you can’t bear to get up for any more punishment. And then I’ll destroy your shitty snowman who I imagine has the same amount of balls as you do. I’ll send you back to Willow Springs bleeding and crying.

After wasting my time with Schism’s geriatric looking ass I’ll move on to the second round. Based on the brackets it looks like I would be matched up against one of Charlie Nickles or Osira Themis. If by some miracle Osira squeaks by Charlie she will be stopped dead in her tracks by yours truly. I had the pleasure of causing big sis Atara some pain and discomfort at the start of the year. Took her out for a wee little bit, oops! I would love to drop baby sis Osira on her head as well before dumping her waste of space carcass into the frozen pool below.

I don’t even want to give a shit about you or pay you any attention but then you went and shit on the title and division. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything to you or at least that’s what you want us all to think. But god damn I would love to get you in the second round Osira, and show you what the Television title means to me. What running rampant over this division means to me. No not Rampage, his bitch ass fucked off once he saw Marf was in this tournament. So talk your shit Osira but you better pray to your bogus Gods we don’t face off on Saturday.

Realistically though, I know there’s no way Osira is surviving Charlie Nickles. Which means I will see my pal Charlie in the second round. Which means I can ask him face to face where my payment for helping host the Halloween special is. I help a down on his luck guy out and what do I fucking get for it? Cheaped out of my god damn money and more than a few bruises. Friends or foes, I look forward to paying ole Charlie back for ripping me off. I have no issues whipping his tired, bloated ass around that ring just like when I took the Television title off him. Brag all ya want about your long, boring reign Charles, I’m the son of a bitch that ended it.

Marf leans in a bit to be closer to the camera.

As for your primitive plan to regain the television title, you might wanna just head back to the drawing board now. You’re not getting past me, Charlie. You couldn’t do it before and damn sure won’t be able to do it now either. Better bring your fucking bathing suit, shit boy. You’re going for an ice cold swim once we meet in the second round. Nothing personal buds, I just refuse to let any of you motherfuckers get in the way of my redemption. Not that twat Schism, not you Charlie and not whoever is in the final round with me.

Which could be anyone out of Estrada, Coleman, Knox or Luiz. Do I have a preference? Not really, they all look like dog shit to me. It makes no difference which one of those pathetic fucks are stuck in a ring with me, surrounded by eskimos. Or whatever bullshit term you call them. If any of them get in my way I’ll cave their native heads in. Nobody is stopping me from winning this tournament. No fucked stipulations, snowmen, ice pool bullshit will prevent me from winning.

Marf leans back and smirks at the thought of his potential co-finalist.

Reggie Estrada. A man who is no stranger to me. While only briefly, our paths have crossed before. I’d be more than happy to have him standing across from me in the finals, primed and ready to have his ass handed to him. But that’s merely a pipe dream. In this reality, probably like most others, Reggie is street trash. It’ll take a miracle for him to even make it out of the first round. If the saints look down upon ole Reg and smile and he finds himself in the finals with me, the miracle ends. I will eat him alive. Maybe I’ll even share some of him with the weird natives at ringside.

Something tells me that regardless of any interference from higher powers or not, Cage Coleman is stopping Reggie in round one. Coleslaw might actually make it into the finals instead. Good for him right? Showing up here in XWF and showing all sorts of promise right away. Making the finals of this tournament would do his career wonders right? Fucking dead wrong. It’ll put him directly into my crosshairs. I will rip and tear every chunk of promise away from you, Cage. This is not your night, I will literally cut your career short if I have to.

And by the way, using the Lycana’s shadow route? Come on, I’m ready to tear you apart for being so unoriginal but look at you. Your name is Cage fuckin’ Coleman, you sound like a rejected mortal Kombat character, fuck off with your tired ass shadow bullshit. I have no chance against Charlie? I fucking ended his television title reign you dumb fuck. A belt I have held twice in my first year here. Tell me again, what accomplishments do you have to hold over my head? Thad beat you up? Congratulations, cling on to that after I stomp your dumb ass out of the tournament. If you even make it that far…

Marf gets up at this point and opens his arms for a second while laughing.

You see it really doesn’t fucking matter at all to me who I face. All the different combinations of potential opponents doesn’t mean shit. They’re just bodies in my way, ready to embrace the pain I am ready to inflict. Although I will point out one certain in all this. Victoria Strader Knox isn’t worth a clump of northern elk shit and has the worst chances of everyone involved. Yes, even worse than Reggie’s. I almost wish this quiet cunt would slip through the cracks and get to the finals with me. Just so I could bat her around like a cat playing with a mouse before killing it.

But of course, Victoria won’t make it past the first round and her opponent, Ciela Luiz. The little mouthy bitch may be young and stupid but at least she has enough fighting spirit to make it to the finals as my last victim. Apparently you’re Geri Vayden’s niece so I’m already questioning your actual talent. That stale fart was nothing but false promises and wasted ambition. And hold up, did you just say I turned my back on her!? That conniving skank completely ditched myself and Lycana and ran away like a coward. And if you make the finals Ciela, I’ll sending you fucking running after her.

Marf shows off a sarcastic smile and makes a shooing away motion.

So as everyone can see, it truly does not matter in the slightest who wins all the other matches. At the end of the night, whoever faces Marf, loses. It’s not just a simple answer, it’s a foregone fucking conclusion. Slippery teens, generic newcomers or former co-hosts I don’t give a fuck. Whoever gets in my way will be put down like rabid dogs, that’s a fucking promise. And it all starts with you, Schism. Better get all the training in that you can, because you’re about to find out what getting Marfed up is all about. Let’s get frosty, motherfucker!

And of course Marf bursts out laughing once again as we fade out.