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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » "CCPE Cannabis Cup 2022" RP Board
The Long Road... A Friendly Tale.
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theNewBreed Offline
Registered but either hasn't added self to a roster yet or doesn't RP



XWF FanBase:
Some of everyone

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


#1
06-23-2022, 04:21 PM Big Grin  The Long Road... A Friendly Tale. -->



SUMMER MADNESS
8.6.19
WEMBLEY STADIUM
LONDON, ENGLAND



The night was brutal... and that's if you want to put it mildly.

The Fatal Four Way for the WGWF World Heavyweight Title was a meat grinder in truth.

Tristan Slater had suffered a traumatic injury to his leg and was medically eliminated. Alyce Starchylde was eliminated by her own boyfriend. Both perpetrators - the legend, MDK... and I was locked in the struggle of my career against a man who wanted nothing more than to kill me for the Title...

And he tried.

The Man Beast climbs to his feet unsteadily and pulls M.D.K. up with him. He hoists him onto his shoulders and sets up the torture rack. He bounces his rival across his shoulders and roars for M.D.K. to just give up. He launches his adversary into the air to complete the Darkest Hour but before he can hit the cradle brain-buster, M.D.K. shifts his weight and turns it into a momentum enhanced, spinning HellShot that sends Cable sprawling face first into the mat at high impact! M.D.K. hooks the leg!

1!

The crowd is counting along!


2!


Cable isn’t responding!

3!

DING! DING! DING!

Donald Masters: “And the winner of the match… AND NEW… WGWF World Heavyweight Champion… M… D… K!”


And then, the Title was gone... and so was MDK. He took his Title and went home.

There was nothing left in the WGWF for me, because to a warrior, to be the man... you have to beat the man, and MDK was long gone.

There was no rematch. There was no regaining the gold. There was only a future where even if I did win it back in a tourney or a runner-ups match, there was always the man who took it from me in the first place.

I wasn't interested in that future.

This war with MDK had taken the entire passion for the business I loved my entire life right out of me.

Of course, there were other factors. There always were.

One of the biggest ones for me was the betrayal of my partner, Tristan Slater, and the destruction of the Glorious New Breed months before, and after his injury in the match I was really conflicted.

I was almost glad MDK broke his leg... but it pissed me off. It was totally irrational, but in my head, the only one who deserved to beat the shit out of Slater was me... and I took offense to that mealy mouthed son of a bitches sheer audacity.

Either way, between the bad blood between Slater and I, the downfall of the New Breed, and the departure of MDK from the WGWF, I decided the best thing I could do was take a break and focus on the New Breed Foundation... and I did just that, until about 8 months ago.


[Image: Jacksonville-Skyline-at-Night-II.jpg]



Jacksonville, Florida, 8 months prior.



What was supposed to take five hours took seven but Tristan finally pulled up outside a massive office building in the heart of downtown Jacksonville, Florida. The El Camino starts backfiring again getting a lot of unnecessary attention as he turns off the ignition. With a deep breath, Tristan exits the door-less car as he looks up at a huge sign on the building that reads “NEW BREED FOUNDATION”.

”Here goes nothing.” Slater mutters to himself.

He walks up on the sidewalk and through a large set of double glass doors entering the lobby of the building that he’s more than familiar with as his hands find themselves in the front pockets of his bathrobe. He starts to walk across the tiled floor towards the receptions desk when he’s met by several members of security.

”I’m here to see John.” He says matter of factly.

Assuming he’s a vagrant two of the large buff security guards snatch Tristan by each arm on each side.

”What the fuck! Get your hands off me!” Slater shouts at the guards.

He tries to fight his way free but it’s of no real use. He starts to scream out at the top of his lungs.

”JOHN! JOHN CABLE!”

His voice echoes loudly throughout the bottom floor of the New Breed Foundation garnering attention from various floors and employees that are occupying the building on this fine afternoon.

”JOHN CABLE!”

Just as building security is reaching the front doors of the New Breed Foundation we hear a voice bark out from one of the elevators that are behind the receptionist table.

”HEY!” a deep gravely voice echoes in the hallways over the commotion.

Security halts at the sound of the voice as his head draws up knowing his mission was accomplished. You can hear a pin drop with just how quiet the entire building gets. The entire energy has shifted.

The sounds of his footsteps walking across the floor echo with the pace getting closer and closer. John’s always had a big heart, but we’re about to find out if the saying time cures all wounds is bullshit.

”Release that man.” John says.

Which they do upon request without asking or batting an eyelash. The echoing steps come to a stop.

”Turn around.” He tells Slater quizzically.

He doesn’t move until being nudged by both of the large security guys in the black suits.

”Oh shit…” Slater mutters.

He laughs as he turns and gets his first look at one of the security guards while he says.

”Thought he was talking to you.” he quips.

He finally turns completely around to where he stands face to face with the monstrous near the seven-foot frame, bald John Cable.

”Who are you?” John asks intently as he looks up in down the very plump guy standing in front of him.
”John, it’s me… Tristan.” he says with a long time no see chuckle.

John chuckles under his breath.

”Not even he would be that stupid. Nice try.” he growls.

John glances towards one of the security guards.

”Get him outta here.” he orders.

”Wait, wait!” Tristan pleads. ”I need your help.”

John rears back punching Tristan in the face sending him dropping to the floor. He looks up at John clutching his jaw.

”Okay, I probably deserved that.”

Only John wasn’t finished.

John rears back with a booted foot, and swings a huge kick to Tristan's face, knocking him unconscious.

“Take him to the hospital. I'll stop by in a little bit.” he growls at his security guards before stalking back down the hallway and disappearing into the elevator once more.



Later that night...



Slater's room door opens slowly as Johnathan steps into the room and closes the door behind himself.

“OK, I probably dese...” Slater starts to mumble through the ice pack on his swollen face before John holds a hand up at him and cuts him off.

“Shut up, for once.” John says flatly, and waits to see if Slater will comply before he starts again.

“After everything that's happened between us, you have GOT to be in the DEEPEST shit of your life to come crawling into my building and asking ME for help... and judging by the smell of you... you don't have anyone else to turn to... do you?” John asks knowingly, the words barley grinding through his teeth as he stares holes through his former tag partner and long time rival.

“Well... now that you mention it... no. Not so many, and yeah... I'm kinda in a bad way and I think you might be the only man on the planet that can actually help me here.” Tristan says a little sheepishly, with a charming grin of hope trying to spread across the not swollen side of his face as he winces slightly.

“Well what in the fuck could you have gotten yourself into that's that bad?” John asks, surprise etched on his face looking at the slovenly, overgrown husk of the man Slater once was laying in the bed in front of him.

“I got signed again, and I have a match in 8 weeks.” Slater states plainly looking up at John.

“You have a match? In 8 weeks? In the shape you're in right now? Are you fucking serious?” He asks, almost laughing at the predicament Tristan was in.

“Well... yeah. See why I think you might be my only chance to do this and not lose my entire career here?” Slater asks.

“Yeah... are you sure you really want me to pull the old you out of whatever the hell you've let yourself become in the last few years?” John asks as he gestures to Slater in the bed, honestly wondering if this is worth the effort to his old frienemy, or to HIM for that matter.

“John...” Slater says as he reaches a hand out and grabs Cable by the forearm, pulling him closer with an intensity burning in his eyes John hadn't seen there for a long time.

“I have never wanted anything more than to get back to being the man I used to be, and I need you to help me get there. I know I haven't always had your best interest at heart, but I am going to be better... I am going to become the man I tried to be years ago... if you can just help me get there, I'll show you I can do it.” Slater says to John, determination nearly dripping from his lips with every word.

John saw there... deep inside this twisted, greasy shell of the man he had become... his old friend... and despite the sour taste of their recent history still burning like reflux in his throat... Slater was alone and needed his help.

John reaches into the inside pocket of his navy jacket and handed Slater a hotel key-card.

“When you get out in a little while, there will be a car for you out front. Get a good nights rest at the hotel and I'll see you tomorrow.” he says to Slater as he turns to head towards the door.

“Thanks, John. You won't regret this.” Slater says with a rye smile creeping across his face, hopeful for the future.

“Thank me later, Oh Glorious One. You might feel different about that by dinner.” John chuckles as he disappears into the hall.

“Oh, Fuck...” Slater exclaims, grumbling sadly as he knows exactly what to expect from Cable in the morning.



Over the next 8 months...



Johnathan Cable was a driven, tenacious, monster of a man... and when his entire goal in life at any given moment was to make a man a better version of himself than the one he saw in front of him, the Beast was an expert sculptor.

Decades he had spent in the dusty, musty rows of gym equipment in countless backrooms and warehouses listening to the creaking of ancient ropes and plywood sheets thunderously clapping against the monstrous studs of beams that supported the rings of old. The tinkle of chains swaying under the weight of the heavy bags and the grinding of steel plates sliding onto steel bars and the clipping of pins onto collars... The grunts of men breaking themselves to become better with every single motion, and the cheers of congratulations when a new personal best was reached anywhere in the gym... This was the music of his formative years, and here, Johnathan Cable was home.

John's adoptive father, Henry, had been a world renown golden gloves trainer, and had had a finger in many illustrious career around the globe at nearly every level of the industry... and in this shadow, John had become the man he was today.

There was no match too big, or opponent too daunting... there was no limit to the lengths he would go to train harder, and learn more about his craft... and inside that squared circle, few men could match the technical knowledge encompassed by his lifetime of hard work.

Tristan Slater was one of them.

John counted Slater as an equal, evidenced to the world by their many conflicts over the years, and the combined in-ring knowledge of the Glorious New Breed had been the key to many of their greatest successes, but the time they spent getting Slater back to fighting shape had changed their friendship in ways that neither of them had expected.

There had always been a competitive rivalry between them that aged back to their very first year in the XWF, and followed them to the WGWF, and eventually caused the riff between them that not only cost them the hunt for the Tag Team Titles, but ruined Cable's legacy with the WGWF World Heavyweight Championship in what could have been a Glorious Title Reign, if only Slater hadn't been who he was, and Cable hadn't decided to remain the man he had always been...

After the months of training together though, the bond between the two men had grown into a real friendship, and the animosity that had been there melted away, forgotten to the past. John was proud the progress Slater had made, and he felt confident Tristan was ready to climb back through those ropes and defend the legacy he had spent decades building... and he had been right.


But that... is a story for another day... because there's a giant trophy to win... and that HASN'T happened yet.


[Image: jacksonville-skyline-mountain-dreams.jpg]



Two Weeks Ago
Downtown Jacksonville, FL
New Breed Foundation Training Facilities
Main Headquarter Building


John snatches a tall, well muscled man with a short crop of black hair with a snap Japanese Arm Drag that slings the man to the side and heavily onto the bright blue mat as the plywood boards beneath them snap against the old lumber supporting the old frame.

Cable rolls through the momentum and to his feet as the much younger man rolls through and wheels to his feet as well, facing the bald monster with a toothy smile on his face. Without a moments hesitation, John lunges forward to latch onto the man with a swift left hand behind the neck to pull him into a collar and elbow, but the man deftly ducks under and turns his back into the chest of Cable, locking onto his arm over his shoulder, and lifting with his hips to launch the Beast over him with a hip toss counter, which John twists into and lands on his feet facing the man, John managing to maneuver away from the toss with a sly grin of his own.

The sweat glistens on the glinting forehead of the Beast, and runs in rivulets down the back of the black haired man. Their tights are soaked through, and the mat is speckled with damp, discolored pools and smears.

“See you tomorrow?” the man asks John as he checks the clock on the wall, and makes his way to the corner.

“He'll get back to you. He might have plans for the next few weeks.” a familiar voice rings out from across the gym as the steel framed door to the main lobby slams shuts behind none other than Tristan Slater, a broad grin spread across his face as John turns towards him to see his old friend.

“I'll call you later tonight. I may actually have plans it seems.” John says flatly towards his sparring partner, and then rolls under the ropes to the floor and grabs a towel out of his old green duffel bag.

“You know, for all the shit you gave me for getting fat... you're looking kinda grayed out there, Champ.” Tristan quips as he makes his way across the floor of the gym beneath the unnecessarily bright white lights above.

“The difference is... that when you were fat, you couldn't run a 10 second 40... even old, I can still do that.” John replies with a grin over his shoulder as he towels off his shiny balding dome.



Later that night
Jacksonville, FL


“So, you want me to come out of retirement to fight in an exhibition tag team match on a Super Show run by Chris Page, Promoted as an XWF Cross-Promotional Event, held at a strip club Page's new wife owns? Do I have that about right?” John asks incredulously as he stares daggers through Slater, wondering if he had made the right decision in this friendship.

“Well... yeah. You seem to have that down pretty good.” Slater says with a chuckle. “So... you're in, right?” he asks as if there wasn't another option.

“Tristan, I haven't wrestled in years.” John says, matter of factly. “I don't think my return...” he starts before Slater cuts him off.

“You were wrestling just a couple of hours ago. Don't you still do that 2k open water swim like 3 times a week?” he asks.

“Yeah, but...” John starts, before being cut off again.

“Don't you still do 5k runs every morning?” Slater asks him flatly.

“Yes, Trist...” John begins again before being cut off once more.

“Don't you still spend like 4 hours a day in a ring no matter where you are in the world with some of the best sparring partners on the planet?” he asks sharply, already knowing the answer.

“It's a little more compli...” John sputters under questioning at hand.

“There isn't a man or woman in the business working harder every day to maintain the shape you do, even as old as you are! I don't want to hear about how your return to the ring isn't what you need or want right now. I know damn well how much the Breeders out there mean to you... AND how much you love to be in that ring! So... Shut up... and just sign this.” Tristan says as he slides a paper from his pocket and sets the Cannabis Cup Contract in front of Cable as the scene fades to black.

[Image: gZNikNC.png]
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