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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » Cross Promotional RP Board - Archives
Slashed, Part II
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"Loverboy" Vinnie Lane Offline
The Guy
*********
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XWF FanBase:
Some of everyone

(cheered; very rarely plays dirty but isn't lame either; many likable qualities)


#1
02-20-2022, 05:10 PM

“Dude, I think we might need more candles…”


“Loverboy” Vinnie Lane, the blonde-coiffed rock n’ roll megastar of the XWF says. Standing up from his seat at the table - which is nearly covered in its entirety by large white candles, all lit with flickering flames - the former XWF Universal Champion, current majority-stake XWF owner, and certified Legend moves toward a nearby china cabinet and opens a drawer, which turns out to be full of identical candles.


“The cunt can’t really have more candles can he, mate?”


Asks Gator, another former XWF Universal Champion, newly inducted member of the XWF Hall of Legends, and all-around swell guy. As always, he’s clad from head to toe in his bright red tactical “pajamas” as Vinnie often calls them. It doesn’t stop him from chewing on a fat cigar through his mask, though.

Across from Gator, dressed in the finest high-dollar fashion that money can buy, is none other than Theo Pryce - yet another XWF Legend, former champion and part owner. Pryce sighs and stretches his neck, then adjusts the cuff links on his silk shirt, making sure his blazer comes nowhere near any of the dozens of open flames.


“Who knows? This place is huge, and Vinnie’s better half is into all sorts of nonsense.”


Gator shrugs, accepting Theo’s answer at face value and deciding to just go with the flow. He kicks his feet up onto the chair Vinnie stood up from and leans his head back, taking another drag on his cigar.


“Is that a Fuente Fuente OpusX?”


Theo asks him, leaning forward.


“Fuck off, I don’t even know what that means. It’s a cigar, lad, I got it at the tobacco shop by LAX. Wanna puff?”


“No thanks. I have an Elie Bleu humidor with forty Cohiba Behikes inside, just waiting for a special occasion.”


“No idea what you even said there. You sure those are words? Do rich cunts have their own language?”


Vinnie returns to the table then, plopping another half dozen fat white candles down on the tabletop, which is quickly running out of free space. The circular table is now nearly completely filled from edge to edge with candles, several of which are a few millimeters off the table itself, sticking out into thin air.

With a long grill lighter, Vinnie clicks the new candles to life and the flames jump up in unison with the rest - a hundred nearly identical fingers of fire all pointing straight up.


“You think we need more?”


“No! Lane, seriously, why are we even doing this? I tried to tell you…”


“You know why, Gates. We need D’Ville. Now, I know you guys don’t really know Doc the way I do…”


“Literally talk to him on a daily basis. We trade stock regularly.”


“... having never beaten him in the ring the way I have…”


“Hundred percent did beat him… did you listen to my induction speech at all?”


“... but trust me, the guy is like some sort of wizard. A necrophiliac or something.”


“You wot?”


“He means necromancer, which Doc is definitely not.”


“The guy has always existed on the fringes of reality, right? Like, he just appears and disappears like some sort of weird phantom and we all just, like, move on with our day like it’s totally normal. It’s not normal, man! It’s really not normal! It’s… PARA-normal!”


“Christ, he really made a pun…”


Gator hangs his head and pulls a flask out of one of the many tactical pockets on his outfit. He unscrews the top and then stops himself from taking a sip, instead tipping the flask toward Theo.


“Where are my manners? Theodore, fancy a nip?”


“Glenfiddich? Hopefully pre-World War 2? If not, then a Black Bowmore could suffice…”


“God, how are you my friends?”


Gator swigs from the flask and stuffs it back into his pouch as the dining room door swings inward. There, with three wreaths of fat garlic bulbs roped around his neck like the world’s oddest lei, enters “Hot” Todd Moschitti. Todd, essentially Gator’s assistant in all things originally, has become a sort of man-at-arms for the XWF in recent years. Heading up the camera crew, he also serves as a page for executives in the building.


“Hey guys! No time to chat, can’t inhale, that’s how ghosts get in!”


Todd drops off the pizzas he’s carrying and tries to hurry back out of the room.


“Todd, mate, hold on a second...”


Todd does as Gator asks and stops, but his cheeks are already starting to redden.


You made sure to get EXTRA greasy garlic knots, yeah? Last time you got knots that were dry as fuck. Shit was harder to swallow than the four cunts we’re booked against being treated like main eventers.”


“Mmmmhmmmf…”


Todd tries nodding vigorously while also pulling out a large crucifix from his shorts pocket. This is the kind that hangs on a wall, not one meant for carrying around with you.


“Todd? Todd is that your gran’s crucifix? From her living room?”


Todd nods rapidly, his face darkening into a violet shade.


“Todd we aren’t hunting fucking vampires, you absolute wanker. We’re just doing a seance to try and pretend Vinnie isn’t a moron.”


“Hey! I’ll have you know Roxy had a vision using nothing more than a Ouija board and three bottles of wine!”


“I’m sorry mate, but your girlfriend is a wackadoodle.”


“She is not, dude!”


“She doesn’t believe birds are real, Vincent. She thinks the Earth is flat.”


“There’s actually a lot of compelling literature…”


“Is it from the 1300s? No disrespect to the classics, Vin, but what’s next? Galen’s miasma theory of medicine? What does California do to you people, I can feel my vaccinations slowly giving me autism as I speak…”


“DUDE! I think Todd’s gonna pass out!”


Indeed, Hot Todd is apoplectic from holding his breath to avoid inhaling poltergeists, djinns, specters, bodachs, and other assorted ghosts. His adorably round face looks like Violet Beauregarde after she chewed Willy Wonka’s experimental three-course-meal chewing gum prototype. Not the 2005 version, because that’s trash. The 1971 original with Gene Wilder. Fucking legend.

Gator hops up from the table and starts smacking Todd on the back with his open palm. Todd shakes his head and holds his hands over his mouth, still trying his damndest to not inhale any breaths from the great beyond.


“Fucking imbecile! I should have gotten a fucking gerbil instead.”


Luckily for Todd, it is at this precise moment that an angel arrives. No, not that kind of angel. The seance hasn’t even started yet, remember? No - this angel arrives in the form of Maxine, the 6’2” bodyguard of Vinnie Lane’s fiance Roxy Cotton.

Maxine, now finished with her daily afternoon regimen of moving the potted palm trees from the East side of the Pink Palisades, Vinnie and Roxy’s luxurious estate, to the West side (in order to keep the light out of Roxy’s eyes if she chooses a post-Mimosa nap), had re-entered through the housekeeper’s entrance just in time to see poor Todd nearly stroking out due to a lack of oxygen to the brain. She leapt into action.

Like scooping up a puppy Maxine grabs Todd off of his feet and thrusts her rippling forearms together across his marshmallowy chest like a pair of mating anacondas. One pump of the Heimlich later and Todd has no choice but to give up the fight against his own respiratory system, gasping out a massive gust of air and then sucking his lungs full of every possible ghost within a three mile radius.


“Some men would pay really good money for that sort of treatment. Ain’t that right, Christian Grey?”



Gator says with a chuckle in the direction of Theo Pryce, who waves him off.


“Christian Grey wasn’t a Sub, Gator, you’ve got the dynamic backwards. He was the Dom. Anastasia was the…”


The room stares at him.


“What I meant is, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”


“Todd, you all right, lad?”


Hot Todd, still bent over at the waist and swallowing massive gulps of air while Maxine pats him on the back, gives a thumbs up.


“Good, because I’m going to fucking kill you. These knots are as dry as a woman’s panties after watching a Mac Bane promo. Fuck off back to the pizza shop, yeah?”


Todd stands up with a scowl, locking eyes with his Amazonian life saver, and finding a glimmer of connection somewhere deep behind her chestnut eyes. It was wrong to feel this way, what with his upcoming nuptials… but who wouldn’t find themselves doubting their relationship when faced with such a specimen? Surely his bride-to-be would understand?

With muscles in her arms taut like elevator cables, and a chest heaving with strength beneath her “I Heart Johnny Hitmaker” tee shirt, Todd’s eyes follow Maxine’s rigid, putrudent jawline which looks as if it were sculpted from marble by Michelangelo and he knows he has found the woman he’s been searching for his entire adult life. Perhaps, if he could find the words, he could woo this incredible woman and-


“TODD. THE GARLIC KNOTS.”


“Right! Sorry, Gator! I’ll be back in an hour, tops!”


Todd scurries off to make his way to the local pizzeria, and Maxine gives the room a puzzled look. Max, who seems to never speak, merely raises one eyebrow before leaving the room.


“Thanks Max! Theo, do you happen to have something of Doc’s? Like a lock of hair or an earlobe or something?”


“An EARlobe?”


Theo grimaces, the disgust palpable in his voice. He taps his lips with his neatly folded pocket square to hold the nausea at bay.


“Yeah, like, I’m pretty sure we have to summon Doc’s spirit here and trap it in some sort of vessel? And according to my research it works best if we have some sort of personal talisman that links directly to him.”


“Research? Like at the library? Where did you go to find out things like that? The Vatican? Did you crack the Da Vinci Code, Vinnie?”


“Uh, no, mostly I just watched all seven of the original Child’s Play movies. I still don’t really understand how two dolls had a ventriloquist dummy for a kid…”


“Vinnie. This is dumb. No, I don’t have anything of Doc’s, and even if I did have… an EARlobe… I don’t think it would be useful for this… this… whatever it is that you think we’re doing here today. I only came out to Malibu because you said you wanted to plan for the Denzel Porter show - like I’ve been asking you to do for a month and a half. Well, that and all the trim that’s out here.”


“Right! I DO want to prep for the big match, dude! But we need everyone present for that, you know? We can’t just have three of the XWF’s kings here, we need all four!”


“Hold on, Vin, me and Theo are kings, sure, but you? You’re not British.”


“Wait, Theo’s British?”


“Neither of you are Kings! Doc and I were Kings, you two weren’t part of that…”


“Mate, firstly I literally have Meghan Markle on speed dial, do you want me to call her right now and have her tell you what a bellend you are?”


“First of all, yes, I absolutely want that, and second of all, being English doesn’t make you a King.”


“Secondly, pryck, spelled prick with a “Y” since you like to ruin perfectly fine words, I’m king of the road.”


“That doesn’t count either, in fact it’s worse than your first point.”


“I’m descended from the royals, dude! Don’t you remember that whole thing I did a few years back? With the 23 and Me?”


“Nobody remembers that, it was terrible. And either way, you aren’t a King. The Kings are me, Doc, Samuels, and Madison…”


“The guy who blew himself up in a meth lab explosion.”


“ALLEGEDLY. Not that it matters. Can we just get back on track? I don’t want to spend an entire day cooped up in Vinnie’s voodoo hut when I could be choosing between Kylie and Kendall in my plane’s hot tub.”


“Why not both?”


“Why NOT both, you're absolutely right, Gates.”


“Yeah, well, I’m not trying to Keep Up With the Kardashians, dude, Kylie, Kendall, and their SKIMS can wait until after we get Doc here…”


“Vinnie, Skims isn’t Kylie or Kendall, that’s a Kim business. It’s right in the name. She used to call it KIMONO but back in season 17 there was a whole thing with appropriation and she decided to…”


Theo notices Gator and Vinnie have both planted their elbows on the table to stare at him.


“What I meant is, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can we just hurry up and get to the match prep so I can chase some Vegas skirt?”


“You can’t rush the spirit world. Trust me, I’m eager to get D’Ville here too! He’s got more recent in-ring experience than we do, you know? The guy’s still the reigning King of the XWF! But these ectoplasm portals that ghosts travel through don’t follow the usual laws of physics! We have to summon properly or, like, we’ll end up trapped in the upside-down or something.”



Gator gobbles the last bite of pizza crust and then sucks the grease from his fingers, still through his mask somehow, and reaches for another slice.


“You watch too much TV, mate. Got you daft in the brains. Same reason I talk with such an unrealistic British accent when we hang out - because you think that’s how we really talk! Blimey!”


“Like Peaky Blinders!”


“No one talks like Peaky Blinders! And we don’t need a bloody seance to get Doc here, I sent him one of Todd’s wedding Save-The-Dates through the regular mail! Turn off the telly and sod off with all this nonsense, Vinnie!”


“I see what you mean about talking extra British…”


“Literally called Vinnie a crumpet once, he didn’t even blink.”


“Guys! If we’re gonna get the band back together in time for the Denzel Porter Invitational, then we need to hurry up and get to summoning. We need Doc or we’re gonna end up losing to a double dating quartet of swingers from the minor leagues! We’re the LEGENDS of the XWF, dude, we can’t be getting embarrassed out there by folks who think Thunder Pro is big time, or that hiring Chris Page as a career manager is a smart decision. Have you guys done your homework? I’m pretty sure Ken Davison voted for Eisenhower, but his ring rat KJ the “jawdropper” might have graduated High School last year. So, right away, we know Davison is smart AND Kyra isn’t… but what else? Theo? Gator?”


Theo, who had zoned Vinnie out to do some more Robin Hood GameStop trades on his Blackberry, rolls his eyes and leans forward.


”You want my take on these four? Simple: We walk down to the ring, start the match, and then end it as quickly as possible. Sure we could toy with them for 20 minutes, give the fans something, but why bother? These four on their very best day would be nothing more than local enhancement talent in the XWF. They'd be the people we feed to guys like Ghost Tank and HGH when we want to give them a free W. I’m not even saying that to be mean it’s just the God’s honest truth. The four of us are four of the best to ever lace up the boots in one of the biggest wrestling federations in the game and our opponents hop around from place to place like drug addicts going from stepped-on rock to stepped-on rock until they can find one that gives them that temporary good feeling. Only to get tired of it a short time later and try out something new. Rinse. Repeat.

The fact that anyone on that team would dare puff out their chest and speak about what they did in a place like OCW is laughable but I’ll get into that whole debacle later. For now I’ll just say this. These four have obviously accomplished some stuff in other federations that is undeniable but it is also worthless because I know, we all know that the talent in the XWF is unmatched. Guys like us were the very best in era’s that featured bonafide monsters of the sport. You guys battled each other in probably one of the most competitive era’s in the XWF’s history. I got to do battle with guys who were unbeatable until they stepped into the ring with me. And I get it, none of those names means anything to the Mac Banes and Ken Davison and Kyra Johnson and Amber Ryan’s of the world but to people like us, their names mean absolutely nothing. Truth is I’d never even know these four existed if not for the fact that we were brought in to face them. These four are like vanilla ice cream. There’s nothing wrong with them. They’ll do in a pinch but they are just, well… boring. In every single sense of the word. In the ring. Out of the ring. They are the very definition of vanilla. And not even French Vanilla which is at least a slight upgrade. Nope they are vanilla.

I listened to a Mac Bane promo the other day and it kind of reminded me of the days when I used to do lines of coke with Flynn and Luca.”



“How so?”


“Because I had absolutely no clue what the hell was going on but at least I was having fun. And Ken Davison, Jesus Christ has there ever been a guy who spends more time saying less than Ken Davison?”


“Chris Page?”



“Ok besides him. But seriously. Watching a Ken Davison promo makes me wish I was Hellen Keller.”


“I always knew you wanted to be a woman, Theo.”



“No jerkoff. Blind and deaf. She was lucky she never had to endure the pain that is a Ken Davison promo. Anyway I feel like I’m forgetting someone but I guess that kind of speaks to my general point though so whatever.”


Vinnie nods, seemingly in agreement with Theo about the four opponents he and his teammates will be squaring off against once they enter the ring in Las Vegas for the Denzel show.


“You might be onto something there, T-Bird. End of the day, I think the one that intrigues me most is this Amber Ryan chick. She’s been places I’ve heard of. 4CW, which is out of business, Carnage, which is out of business, Boardwalk, which is out of business… hmmm… maybe she’s actually bad for business? She’s been in OCW? That’s nice, we did that group of folks a real solid, put them on the map, won all their belts with our mid-tier talent, and then got to giggle on the sidelines when they decided the world was too big and scary for them a few months back. Oh! But she’s got gold in TPW! For like a day now. After taking a break halfway through the match. That’s cool. I wonder if she knows Terry Marshall had to come begging us for the capital to keep Thunder Pro afloat? That reminds me, I’ve gotta send him over his February stipend or none of his talent is getting a paycheck this month. I promised Peter Vaughn I wouldn’t just let them twist in the wind, you know? That guy’s got a big heart and likes to look out for the underprivileged. We should check into her “nevermore” team though and find out if it was her or Matt Knox that really took them to the straps… because if it was Knox? Yikes! That dude couldn’t hang in the XWF for one pre-show tryout. Not exactly a ringing endorsement of her in-ring prowess, you know? Plus, you’d figure she’d team with her man like she is against us… but maybe they have a weird cuck thing going on. No judgment, but, if Knox shows up he’ll make his last visit to the XWF look like a six month sabbatical compared to how fast we bounce him from the ring.”


Gator, holding one of the garlic bulbs that he snatched off of Todd’s vampire-repelling necklace and rubbing it against a cheese grater to get some fresh seasoning on his pizza slice, looks up from his handiwork and folds the slice in half lengthwise, then crams it in his mouth. The whole table waits patiently while Gator chews.


“So, like I was asking…”


Vinnie tries to prompt Gator, but Gator holds up an index finger to cut him off. Once again, both Vinnie and Theo can just sit and watch while Gator works the fat slice of pan pizza down his gullet like a boa constrictor sucking down a rabbit.

Finally, mercifully, he finishes.


“Delicious. Anyway, right, I think Amber Ryan-Bane-Ryan-Mac-Knox sucks, we agree. The question is how much do they suck? Lights!”


The lights dim and a projector shines onto a wall; Gator picking food from his teeth head over to the wall and begins to remove framed pictures to get a clear flat surface. Gator then spins around with a clap.


“Right! So here’s what we have against us.”


Gator clicks a button on a handy remote he had on him seemingly at all times and a picture of MacBane pops unto the screen.





“MacBane, dude loves the right-wing and wolves based from my quick scan through his horseshit. Is the frontman for his team for no obvious reason and is involved with the world’s greatest jobber, Chris Page, so we all know for a fact that he’s submissive and talentless. Basically he’s an easy target and will most likely be the second person we take out of the match early. But who is the first you ask?”


Click.





“How do you know Davison?”


“Wha?”


Gator tilts his head from Theo to the image.


“That’s not me! Although I like his style. Anyway, enough about the dashing man besides him. The bald prick has as much presence as hair follicles. Honestly, the most bland default character I’ve ever witnessed in my career. And I beaten A LOT of boring people; his only saving grace is that he gets carried by this woman.”


Click.


[Image: Briana_Evigan_24106_Medium.jpg]


“This walking advertisement for scoliosis is Kyra Johnson and is what we call in wrestling as, a bit-part player or to be more precise, somewhat of a threat. Now I am more worried we’re gonna get served in some kind of West Side Story way but to perfectly honest lads, I’m pretty sure we’ve carried bigger shits in our stomachs than this kid. My idea is we kinda grab her by the ankle and play whack-a-mole with the rest of the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. Ideally taking out.”


Final click and Vinnie spits out his drink.





“This my fine friends is target numero uno. Amber Jane Ryan. Now, I want you all to imagine we're these fine fellas here, plus Todd because there's five of ‘em, your welcome for involving you Todd. So what we need to do is group up on this cunt and make sure she’s out the earliest, based solely on the fact that she does know how to win a match without bumbling her ass through it like the rest of the sad sacks of jizz attached to her. Or I could be wrong, to be perfectly honest I haven’t paid much of any attention to ‘em.”


Gator claps his hands and Todd hits the lights before Gator goes and grabs another pizza slice and Vinnie just watches him slack-jawed. How can the guy still be hungry? Does he have a tapeworm the size of Kyra Johnson’s gangly arms?


“Good point, Gator. Amber Ryan might be the most important and successful of the bunch, but the other three have made a name for themselves in their own ways. I mean, Ken and Kyra, the ones I have to assume are the swing-ees in this foursome, have been chilling in UGWC for a while. The Coalition is pretty cool! You can be old and senile like Centurion and still win the big gold there. Not sure why K&K haven’t managed to win anything… maybe they aren’t good? Nah, that can’t be it. It’s not like just anyone can go win there. I mean, it’s not like my barely-a-wrestler centerfold fiance is a grand slammer or anything. Oh, wait, she definitely is. Huh. Crazy! None of them, not Mac, not Kyra, not Ken… none of them have even sniffed gold in the UGWC. Friggin’ Tony Savage has won titles there, and that guy is at best a sideshow attraction. He’s the type who accidentally wins a title because the original challenger got COVID and had to drop out at the last minute so the champ was off his game. THAT GUY has held titles in UGWC, but not Davison, Johnson, or Bane. That’s almost statistically impossible, yet they managed to fail so hard that MATH couldn’t handle it. I can understand a little chica with a crooked nose not winning titles, I can even understand a bald old man who looks like he’d be better off making Mr. Clean porn parodies not winning titles, but isn’t Mac Bane like eighteen feet tall and muscular? You wrap a basketball player’s skeleton in enough muscle, you should win SOMEthing, you know? Even if you’re a grown man dumb enough to go by the name “Mac.” These guys are just defying the odds!”


“All right, Lane, all right… tell you what, mate, let’s just do the seance, we’re already here ain;t we? And I’d like to get out of this room before it catches fire. What do we got to do? Kill a chicken? Bleed on a book made of human skin?”


“What? No, ew dude, that’s crazy. All we have to do is join hands and focus on summoning Doc here. Here. Grab my hand, then grab each other’s hand. Close your eyes…”


Vinnie leans his head back and closes his eyes, reaching out his hands on either side to Theo and Gator. The two look at each other and shrug before each reaching out a hand and clasping Vinnie’s then joining their own two free hands together, forming a circle around the fiery table.


“Your palms are sticky, Gator.”


“Todd ain’t brought any napkins, sorry. Tried to lick ‘em clean best I could.”


Theo’s face flinches in disgust and it looks like he has to force a swallow.


”Glad I brought an extra gallon of hand sanitizer.”


“Guys! Quiet… we need to focus… okay… like, center yourselves. Find your chakras. Feel the rhythm of your own heartbeat, your pulse, as it washes through your body…”


“Makin’ me horny now.”


“Dude, shut up! This is serious! The Denzel Porter Invitational is probably the last time all of us will be in a ring together, you know? This is like the bookend of our XWF careers, all of us, at once, kinda how we started. Like… I don’t know where my life would be without you guys, you know? If I hadn’t come to the XWF in 2014 and met you two, and Doc, I might have a completely different life right now. Being able to hang in the ring with Theo helped me prove to myself that I was good enough to be among the best of the best in the XWF. Rising up through the ranks with Gator and Doc taught me how to be competitive, how to stay relevant even among other rising stars. Gator, the butt kicking you gave me when I challenged you for your Television Championship taught me how much better I needed to get in order to be a champion myself! Without you, I would have never made it to being the Universal Champion!”


”Well that’s because he’s the one you pinned to get it.”


“Gargle my fucking balls, Pryce.”


“Seriously guys! We four are the legacy of the last almost-decade of this company. This brand. And if we’re hosting this show for the world to see, if we’re stepping foot inside a ring underneath the banner of the XWF, then we need to show why we belong there. These guys that Denzel has coming in, they don’t know a thing about us. If all they see is us four fumbling through a match and getting beat by a bunch of randos on our own home turf, they’re gonna think that THAT is who we are… but we know better, and we need to make sure we prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt. You get it?”


“Shit. Yeah, actually, that makes sense, Lane. Well fucking done.”


”You almost sounded wise, Vinnie, it was a nice change of pace.


“Right. Let’s get this fucking show on the road. For Vinnie, and for the XWF. And for fucking Todd, of course, we promised his Pillsbury Dough-Ass that we’d give him a bachelor party to remember, ain’t we?”


”That we did. Lane? Continue.”


Vinnie shakes the tension out of his shoulders and takes a deep breath, then his face goes limp with calm.


“Doc… Louis… all your friends are all here, joined hand in hand in my home in Malibu, the place that would have never been built without the great feud you and I had throughout the end of 2014 and the first half of 2015. We need you, dude. We need you here with us, to have one last dance in the XWF’s squared circle with me, with Theo, with Gator. We’ve got to defend the name of the X-Treme Wrestling Federation, man. Someone shuffled a deck of cards and dealt us four Jokers, but they forgot we were the Aces. It might be 2022 now, but we’ve still got enough talent just in our four sets of boots alone to take out these new millennial wannabes. Well, millennial except for Ken. Pretty sure his social security number is just “one,” but the others I mean. Not that being old is bad. I mean, you’re super old but still really awesome. Ken’s just old and NOT awesome. You see how that’s worse. Anyway, the point is, we’re all here trying to commune with the spirit realm because I know that’s where you spend your off-time. But it’s time to be ON, man. Come to us. If you’re hearing me, let me know!”


Vinnie smiles and points his face upward, still keeping his eyes closed. A breeze flows through the room, leaning all of the candle flames practically on their sides. Vinnie makes a shocked face, clearly feeling a chill in the air.

Then, dressed in a casual suit, the good Doctor Louis D’Ville himself simply walks into the dining room and stands next to Vinnie, unseen.


“Dude, did you guys feel that? You had to feel that, man! It got like a whole degree cooler in here! I’ve got chills running up and down my spine! I told you guys this would work.”


“Yeah yeah, got colder than Mac Bane’s bedsheets on Valentine’s, good on you.”


“Doc! I know you’re here! I can feel your presence, dude… just talk to us. Speak, Doc! Speak!”


D’Ville leans down so his lips are nearly touching Vinnie’s ear. He then claps his hand on Lane’s shoulder and says loudly:


”You left your door unlocked.”


“GEEZ!”


Vinnie hops up, nearly knocking over the table and all the candles on it. Luckily Gator and Theo manage to steady it even while struggling through fits of laughter. Doc straightens himself up and gives a little wave.


”Hello, my friends.”


“Dude! You’re here!”


”But, of course! Jacob phoned me. He mentioned you wanted to talk a bit of shop before partaking in a Bachelor Bash of the Ages for Mister Moschitti! You know I'm never one to miss out on a party… So, where is the little fellow?"


“Sent his cherubic arse to fetch me some garlic knots. And that's not what I said… What I said was, 'the cunt was to have a seance to summon your old, wrinkly arse and I wanted no part of it. So I took matters in me own hands.”


Who's Jacob?"


Vinnie no-look points Gator's way.


”Could someone translate? It's bad enough he wears a sock over his head let alone the one he keeps in his mouth."


Gator flips off Doc from across the table. The old man laughs and switches his focus to Vinnie who still seems to be catching his breath. We don't see this, but Gator mouths, "FUCK-YOU" through his mask.


"You alright, Mister Loverboy? You look as if you've seen a ghost!"


“Well I thought I did! I thought you were, like… in that OTHER place.”


”Where? New York? No, no, I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Anyone got a light?”


Doc brings a cigar of his own out of a hidden breast pocket, and Gator grabs one of the candles, standing and lifting it up for Doc’s stogie.


“Here you go, mate, wouldn’t want all of Vinnie’s hard work to go to waste.”


“Yeah… awesome…”


“Thank you kindly. Now, gentlemen, Mister Pryce was kind enough to provide me with the rundown for the match…


Doc says with a wink as he puffs out a plume of dark smoke that fills the room. Vinnie immediately goes for a tootie-frootie[/u] scented aerosol-can and erratically sprays it all around.


"Doc! Not in the house!"


Doc chuckles and teeths the cigar as he slowly takes a seat beside Gator at the table.


"So, from what I understand, this has nothing to do with the XWF, am I right?"


"Well…"


"Nope."


"It has everything to do with it. I told you this already, Doc, the Denzel Porter Invitational brings all kinds of talent from different federations for a three night event that WE, the XWF, are hosting. It's a pretty big deal. This is great for us."


Doc can't help but give a smirk.


"Heh, well, it sure sounds like it! So, you all brought in some outside [i]talent from elsewhere to compete with the likes of us to…. Make this fine federation look even better? I like it."



"I like his spirit."


Gator throws a wink at Doc, which Doc catches and throws back.


"What Theo's trying to say, dude, is that this show is pretty big and hosting it could open a lot of eyes up to, ya know, how good it really is."


Doc chuckles again.


"And we're showing them this by throwing four scrubs into a fight with the four pillars of the XWF?"


"They're not scrubs, Doc. Mac Bane is Sin City Wrestling's World Champion and Davison, Ryan, and Johnson all have pretty respected accolades, too."


"Who?"


Theo falls back in his chair and takes a breath.


"Our OPPONENTS for the show, Doc. I gave you all of this info weeks ago… Have you looked at any of it?"


Doc shrugs.


"Of course, I took a look! It's not everyday I get a telegram from Mister Pryce these days, after all… I was actually a bit flattered at the fact that I received something from him after all of these years from working with each other. Oh, and to include Mister Lane and Jacob in the mix? How COULD I pass this up? I don't lie when I call us the four pillars that have supported the XWF all of these years. The place wouldn't be the same if it didn't have the experience that WE gave IT all of those years ago. The place wouldn't be as high as it is, hosting a glorious show for the masses, if it was not for US! I am proud to slaughter these four wish they were's in the name of the XWF and I'm honored to carry the XWF banner as the one to do it. Theo, you mentioned earlier about taking care of business, as you do, in a fashion that wouldn't give us, as the dominant force that we are, enough credit."


Theo, Vinnie, and Gator share a glance to each other.


"You weren't even here yet when I said that."


"If you speak so highly of this Denzel Porter fellow and this MAIN EVENT, then they deserve a spectacularly special spectacle! They deserve to see us, the XWF's finest, rip Sin City Wrestling's champion, Mac Bane, to pieces. They are entitled to witness Amber Ryan crushed under our boots. They have the right to see Ken Davison and Kyra Johnson BEG FOR THEIR LIVES as we maul them like the four wolves that we are. I do, most definitely, agree with what you say about this whole thing, too… It's going be great for us. Whether it wins the scrubs over or it tears them away, they will know, after it's all said and done, that the very best lie not just within the walls of the XWF, but the entire world."


“Yeah that about sums it up, honestly. Sounds like we’re pretty much all on the same page for the Invitational… guess we can just head out to my backyard air strip and head over to Vegas on Theo’s sweet plane!”


”It really is a sweet plane.”


“How much fucking money do you lot make off the XWF? I barely made a dime…”


”My 401k is bonkers.”


“You got a 401k????”


“Guys, let’s just grab Todd and…”


Just then, through the doorway to the living area, Vinnie’s fiance Roxy Cotton, the blonde bubblegum bombshell with a perfect ten’s measurements and a sunkissed tan, walks into the dining room - completely stark naked from head to toe.


“ROX!”


But she can’t hear him. The pods stuck into her ear canals ensure that. Those and the cucumber slices on her eyes have her completely oblivious to her surroundings.


“Fan-fucking-tastic.”


Gator says, pulling out his phone and snapping a quick succession of photos before Vinnie can swat it onto the floor.


“Quit it! Jesus, I forgot what time it was. Rox always spends an hour of skyclad time from three to four as part of her beauty regimen! She can NOT know you guys were here and saw this…”


Roxy nearly puts the palm of her hand right into a candle’s fiery wick as she searches along a countertop. Luckily Vinnie is quick to move it out of the way.


“Where’s my fucking wine… and why is it so god damn warm in here? MAX? MAXIIIIIIIIIINE? I NEED MY AFTERNOON PINOT!”


“Oh CRAP, if Max comes in here and sees this we are so busted… dude, where did I put the wine…”


Vinnie starts grabbing candles and tossing them into Gator’s lap. Gator, not in the mood to be set ablaze, freezes and does his best to widen his arms to hold the load of waxy cylinders without knocking any over and touching the flames to his no doubt extremely flammable due to pizza oils bodysuit.


“BUGGER! Vinnie watch what you’re doing, you mongman!”


But Vinnie's full fight or flight mode and just piles more candles into Gator’s lap. Eventually, he uncovers a decanter of California’s finest Pinot Grigio, which even gets an approving eyebrow raise from Theo Pryce.


”Smells like a Sonoma? 2005?”


“Oh fuck OFF you snob.”


”Not my fault you couldn’t cut it as a sommelier.”


“Come som-mell deez nuts, Theodore. I’m busy trying to watch Vincent here bumble around and make a fool of himself like Hugh Grant. What is this, P.S. I Love You?”


”What? Gator, Hugh Grant wasn’t in P.S. I Love You, that was Gerard Butler. You’re probably thinking of Love, Actually, which is a superior film for many reasons. One… uh…”


Gator snorts as he sets all the candles down on the floor.


”What I meant is, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”


Lane slips the decanter and a wide rimmed wine glass right in front of Roxy’s searching hands just in time, and a smile spreads across the face of the curvaceous blonde.


“THERE you are. Come upstairs with mama…”


Gator stands up and moves to take a step to follow Roxy out of the room, but Vinnie shoves him hard back down into his seat.

Roxy silently leaves the room, her bare feet carrying her off with her hips swaying, which Theo and Gator match with their heads.

Then, Maxine finally arrives, carrying a sleeping Todd like a newborn baby on her shoulder. When a confused Vinnie looks at her funny she points at his phone on the table, which Vin picks up and finally notices the string of texts.


“Oh wow! Max had to go get Todd because he fell asleep waiting for traffic to clear up on the 405… well, at least she got him back here safe and sound before his big night.”


Maxine sets Todd down on his feet and he blinks the sleep away. Upon opening his eyes finally, he sees D’Ville standing in front of him. Doc bares his teeth like a Hollywood nosferatu hisses loudly at him like a stray cat in an alley.


“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”


Todd turns and runs out of the dining room screeching, and he drops the bag of garlic knots he held in his hand. Deftly, Gator catches the bag before it hits the floor and snatches one soaking hunk of bread out from it, stuffing it into his face.


“Fucking delicious. God bless America and their commitment to trans fats. We ready to get to the tarmac, boys?”


”Lead the way, gentlemen.”


“I’m ready, yeah, totally.”


”Good idea. I’ll let my pilot know we’re heading out.”

[Image: dR5ZguS.png]
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