We open on the interior of Corey Smith’s bedroom, which is beholden to a certain Yuletide glow. Christmas lights are strung about the window. “White Christmas” is playing subtly in the background. The shelf above his bed is playing host to Elf on a Shelf. Then, from stage right, we see Corey scramble onto the bed. He’s wearing reindeer themed footie pajamas. Excitedly, he throws the covers up and slides underneath them, wrapping his hands around the hem as he pulls his head out from beneath.

RL?

RL Edgar pulls up a seat next to Corey.

Yeah, little buddy?

Can you tell me a story?

Hmmmm….I don’t know…. He makes a show of mulling it over.

Oh please! It’s not that late!

He tosses his hands up. Oh, alright. But just one!

Yay! Corey cheers. So, are you going to tell one about Santa Claus?

Erm, not exactly.

His reindeer?

Nah.

Oh. Well. Corey looks a bit confused before a lightbulb flares to life over his head. Are you going to tell a thrill a minute action extravaganza with pulse pounding cinematic stylings?!

RL points at Corey. Bingo!

YESSSSSS!

RL wipes his hands along his thighs as he gears up for the tale. Now, what you’re about to hear is an as yet untold chapter in the Edgar/Waters saga.

Will it be like Die Hard? That’s my favorite Christmas movie! Corey states excitedly.

RL screws his face up. Die Hard? Christmas movie? He chuckles. I think you’re mistaken you little ragamuffin! He reaches over and tussles Corey’s hair.

But, it’s real! Die Hard IS a Christmas movie, RL! “Ho, ho, ho, now I have a machine gun”? That line MEANS something. They put it on a sweater and everything!

Alright, alright hold your horses. Let’s not get overexcited. Especially what with being as wrong as you are….

RL! Corey intones plaintively.

Now you wanna hear this story or not?

Corey sinks deeper under his comforter, a mild look of temporary defeat on his features. Yeah…

Twas’ the night before Relentless, when all through the torture room…
There were guts, and spit, and crying-

Corey’s face tangles while RL keeps barking,

-and suffering, and misery, and death, and mayhem…
All of my fortunes were doomed.

We see the inside of a dusty room with brick walls. Iron chains and cuffs mounted into the brick. Christmas stockings hanging from the wooden frames. Not just that, but a cache of Christmas decorations piled in the corner of the torture room. Plastic trees, inflatable yard ornaments, ceramic village sets, and even lights strung up along the ceiling.

A set of chains rattles against the wall and a shirtless RL Edgar groans. He’s seen better days. His shoulder is dislocated. A stretching bruise is colored red by the gashes across his chest. His eyes are blue and swollen into blindness. His lip busted open along the seam of his front teeth. The chains are just short enough to keep Edgar pinned on the wall with his knees pressed awkwardly into the dusty floor.

Mmm-mmm-mmm…

There’s a cranking sound, followed by a loud metallic pop. A large iron door pushes open from the stone frame.

“Did g’you say Momma?”

Edgar swings his head toward the voice,

Mmm-Mhistay… MISTY! You bitch!

Entering the torture room is Misty Waters; RL Edgar’s mother who has been tormenting her son for the better part of a year, since he first learned of her existence.

Wait.

Corey interrupts the story,

I thought you and Demos killed Misty Waters,

RL sighs like he’s previously explained this a million times,

No she lived, remember? And then she-

-OH! That’s right, Corey snaps his fingers, she lived, and then kidnapped your family before MayDay. RL twirls his finger while continuing: and planted a poison-filled microchip in my brain. Wanted me to assassinate you Duke and Dolly for her secret cult.

Corey’s face bends with more curiosity,

But I thought you saved the day? You didn’t kill Misty?

I thought I did.



She lived, again.

Dude, you watched her face melt off?

Mhm. After injecting her with a concentrated dose of the microchip poison. Only for her to kidnap me, the wife, the kids. Again.

Dude, your life is almost as batshit as mine.

It gets worse.

Back to the night before Relentless:

Edgar’s retching of agony and disgust is so loud it pounds through the brick walls. Misty Waters, looking similar to Rocky Dennis from Mask - with all of the now healed, once half-melted face. She steps into the room wearing a Santa hat, and is flanked with her two assassins; Woods and Luis. Woods has substituted his cowboy hat for a Santa hat as well.

You’ll remember Woods and Luis from Dolly Waters' story in the lead up to Relentless.

They’re the assassins who showed up to Coreytopia and murdered a resident before abducting another in an attempt to kill Dolly Waters. They were working for Misty all along.

“Well it’s a Merry Goddamn Christmas in September ain’t it? Because I’m like a kid on Christmas mornin”

Woods, the toothy Tennessee cowboy gloats.

Wearing a pair of shiners, his eyes are just gleaming while he jingles a mistletoe near his crotch. Under one of his arms is Tessa, the Coreytopia resident that the assassins abducted. Tessa is blindfolded with her arms bound at the wrist, and also wearing bruises and scrapes. Woods pushes her to the floor, leaving her to fall at Edgar’s knees.

Woods slides his tongue over his teeth and moves overtop of both Edgar and Tessa. He reaches further down. His ear next to Edgar’s ear, while producing a Mac-10 from his suit jacket.

“The two bumpkins who tried to ambush me,” He looks them over, pulling the machine gun up to Edgar’s temple, “This is fixin to be a real gift.”

”...and now that you're both here, baby,” Misty cracks a deformed smile and joins Woods at the shoulder, while Luis watches on from the doorframe with a curiously blank expression. The large Spaniard blots out the light from the hallway, leaving only the glow from the strung up Christmas lights. “My granddaughter is out of options. She’s gonna come save you two…, Misty kneels down now and whispers, “...and we’re gonna’ deck the halls with boughs of Dolly”

"Fa la la la la, la la la la!”

Woods sings out while holding back a laugh.

”What is with all of these Christmas references?!” Edgar pleas, jerking his head around to the other side of the room where the Christmas decoration cache sits, ”It’s September!

I was wondering the same thing, RL! Corey again interrupts the story, I thought this wasn’t a Christmas movie like Die Hard.

It’s not. It takes place on the ass-end of summer. Sort of like the way Die Hard was released in July and thus, is not a Christmas movie,

Pfft. Then explain all the holly-jolly-jargon and decorations. It sure makes me feel warm and tingly inside.

Which part? The part about the torture, the murder, or the plot to kill your best friend, Dolly? Corey scowls, The only way this story relates to Die Hard is that it’s another shitty sequel in a long series of stories that’ll never quite live up to the original.

Corey’s eyes lite up, That sounds… that sounds like Bobby Bourbon’s progression from The Motherfuckers to B.O.B and now The Bastards.

That’s right, watered down edgelord shit.

Watered down, indeed. Especially now that some certain someones are without their shinies. Ruh Roh!

You know, I'm realizing something The ways in which Misty Waters tormented me this year? They’re lock-in-step with the ways The Bastards have tormented the XWF viewership. Beaten to death, then springing up like an unwelcome willy wart. Just one played-out parody after another. Full of awkward caprice, death and curse words. Sort of like-

No! Don’t you do it, RL! Don’t you say Die Hard!

RL sighs and looks at his watch,

I’ve really got to be going soon. Marie invited me to a Christmas party at her work. I haven’t seen her and the kids since-

Corey blinks furiously while listening to RL thoughtfully comb through his words,

-since that night before Relentless.

Jeez I’m sorry RL. You and the misses are estranged?

That's personal… but yeah. It’s the reason I decided to take this match on Savage. To prove to Marie that I can get involved and wrestle in the XWF without our lives spiraling into a state of chaos and violence.

When you figure that out, let me know.

Misty Waters is dead. For real this time. So it shouldn’t be that difficult for me.

Corey wears a disbelieving expression,

Dead, huh?

Deader than The Bastard’s careers. Edgar stands and helps tuck a disappointed Corey into bed. Like said little guy, I have to go-

Hey! What about the story? You didn’t finish the story

Ugh… okay, long story short:

We’re all doomed right? Misty has us in her clutches. Unbeknownst to me, Marie and my children are being held hostage in a similar torture room across the hall…

With Luis keeping the door ajar, RL can hear the whimpers of his wife and children from down the hallway. RL roars out like a man possessed by some mythical beast, tearing at the iron chains binding him again, still to no avail. Woods jumps and windmills a chaotic spray of his Mac-10, one of his bullets striking him in the foot. It grazes his toe before burrowing into Misty’s thigh. The duo falls over shrieking, and Woods darts his eyes at his partner Luis. ”Shut that goddamn door!” Luis, the man of few words, a trained killer like Woods, with hundreds of deaths on his hands, is wearing a face of uncertainty.

”I’m not doing this anymore. I want to be with my family.” Luis confesses to a disgusted looking Woods, ”YOUR FAMILY? YOU MEAN THAT BITCH BACK IN BARCELONA?” Woods labors, ”You’re not even her baby's daddy! We’re not family men. We kill people, Luis!

”Not me… Luis takes off his suit jacket, and then his pistol holster from his shoulders. ...not anymore.

Let him go, Woods… Misty submits after a fit of laughter, Once they go soft, they’re useless. she scoots from her back and onto her rear, pulling her injured leg under her upright torso. Just like RL here. Look where the life he’s led brought him. Chained up like a weak animal.

You’re wrong. Edgar says while Misty gets to her feet and limps near Luis and his handgun. She shoves Luis in the chest and grabs the gun. Pulling it from the holster as if she’d done it a million times. Just because people aren’t as sick and twisted as you, doesn’t mean they’re weak.

Oh but you are weak. she moves back to RL and points the steel revolver to his dome, pulling back on the hammer. Afterall, look at you, and look at me- Misty’s face is beyond hideous, I’ve got all the power. I’m more human. I’m a predator. An alpha. You're the prey - actually- You’re not even below the prey. Dolly is the prey. You and this dumb commune-junkie are bait. And while I do like my nightcrawlers dancing on the hook, dead lures work all the same.

Misty pulls at the trigger, but the awful sound distracts from the moment. It's rumbling from underground. A swell of growling and hissing and howling and scratching and with it, a vomit producing scent of decaying feces. A steel grate pops, and grinds and slides across the dusty floor.

Hey, Memaw!

Dolly’s doody caked head rises out from the sewer hatch. Misty turns to face her granddaughter just as Dolly tosses a smoke grenade into the room, it explodes and moments later, as Misty finds herself again knocked to the floor, she looks up to see her Dolly surrounded by a legion of canines and felines,

You think animals are weak? Well tell that to my friends.

Now hold on a second? You mean to tell me that Dolly… OUR Dolly infiltrated this fortress through the sewer system with an army of domestic animals?

Mhm. As Misty stood to fire at Dolly, a pair of German shepherds peeled her in two. Tearing her throat and stomach open. Woods, swarmed by cats, was able to fight enough of them off to aim his gun at Dolly. He fired, but Luis jumped in the way- giving his life for the girl he was hired to kill.

Aw, I like Luis.

He murdered one of your residents.

Oh yeah.

Anyway, that was the night before Relentless: the last night I saw my wife and kids. Once we recused Marie she left me and stormed off with the children.

Wow. You’re right. That story is nothing at all like Die Hard. It sucks.

I know. That’s why I can’t let it end this way. I have to fix things. I have to be with my family for Christmas. I’m going to Marie’s party to show her that I’ve changed.

RL leaves a parting pat on Corey’s head before turning off the lights and leaving the room. A disappointed Corey tosses and turns in bed, unsatisfied with his bedtime story. But then it dawns on him…

Second-rate action hero? Estranged wife’s company Christmas party?

Corey throws the blankets off and slips on a pair of fuzzy reindeer slippers before scurrying off after RL Edgar.

—---------------------------------------------

Sometime Later:

Well, well, well. Congrats Bobby on scoring the sentient sack of farts that is Charlie Nickles. What a get! I know you’re still trying to plumb the same depths you achieved when you were hanging out with Pest. You’re not quite there yet, but maybe if you add diddler era Michael Graves you’ll be cooking with gas.

So RL, I just realized something.

What’s that Corey?

The card says we’re facing Them No Good Bastards. But it doesn’t specify WHICH Bastards we’re facing. And now that Charlie’s in the mix….

Hmmm…that does change things doesn’t it.

Sort of. But I know of at least one potential combination we WON’T see: Thunder Knuckles and Charlie Nickles. Because lets face facts gents, Bobby is too smart to allow the B-tier Bastards to get within a stone’s throw of fucking this up for his brand. Right Bobby? Oh, I know you’ll deny it. But we both know the score, don’t we? You’re the premier Bastard, the one oozing talent while the other two just, well, ooze. Now, yes, yes, Thunder Knuckles was one half of the most dominant team of 2021. But I think it’s safe to say that he would never have accomplished that without one Bobby Bourbon, or someone of equivalent talent, as a partner.

Oh, and TK, as for your pining for Robert Main, I DID voice my support for that match. But only because I love it when living Dunning Kruger cases try to punch above their weight glass and get wrecked for it.

So RL, if you had to rank order the Bastards, what would you choose?

Well, Bobby’s number one.

Heh. Clearly!

Buuut, I think I’d have to put Charlie at number two….

Oh, he’s definitely number two. .

….and then TK at number three.

But the point is, Bobby’s number one, right? And he’s trailing this human detritus along with him. In fact, he’s adding more to the mix! And just like we saw with B.O.B. and each successive Die Hard sequel….

Oh Jesus….

….more is not always better! Bobby, what exactly are you aiming for here? B.O.B. Deux? I mean, yeah, most teams are gonna have a Jannety. But you went ahead and scored yourself a second Jennety instead of a top tier guy. Why’s that Bobby? People not returning your calls since B.O.B. circled the bowl? And who called that little diddy? Corey points at himself with double thumbs. This guy! Because it was in-fucking-inevitable that that pile of egos would eventually cave in on itself.

But B.O.B. is old news. This is now, this is TODAY baby, and RL and Corey are staring Them No Good Bastards right in the eye. When, Corey frowns, those Bastards are already one up on ol’ Smith.

Say it ain’t so!

I wish I could say it ain’t. But it is. Yes, the Bastards beat Continuum. But like I said before, we’re in the NOW. And NOW, Them No Good Bastards are a team that has peaked. Yes, Robert and Thunder have reached the apex, and no I’m not talking about the faction no one asked for a second helping of. I’m talking about the tippy top. The point from which everything else just kind of rolls downhill.

So, what’s next for the Bastards? Do you boys even know? I mean, is it another run at the tag team titles? Because we both know the second go round’s never quite as sweet. What IS your aim, exactly? Corey leans in. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you don’t have one. B.O.B. died. You two finally lost the gold. And, in a mad dash for some kind of scrap of relevancy, you gathered up Demos, or Thrax, or Charlie, or whatever schizophrenic notion has nestled itself in his syphilitic brain this week. But you boys are without a compass. But R.L. and I….? We’re the Boy Scouts baby. Our compass always points true north. And next week, it’s pointing right at you boys. Because though you may have just started floundering for a purpose, you guys still have clout. Bobby Bourbon is STILL a feather in anyone’s cap. And R.L. and I want to be the team that gives the Bastards that final heave-ho into your inevitable dissolution into singles competition once again.

And guess which one is gonna suck? Corey covers his mouth conspiratorially. Don’t tell TK, but it’s HIM.

Former:
1x Hart Champion
1x Federweight Champion
April 2021 RP Of The Month Still Waters Run Deep