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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » "Savage Saturday Night" RP Board
“Please Retire our Daddy!” - Tyler & Emily Nichols
Author Message
Mark Flynn Offline
24/7 Briefcase Holders get their name in GOLD
The 24/7 Shot!



XWF FanBase:
The IWC

(gets varying reactions in the arenas, but will be worshiped like a god and defended until the end by internet fans; literally has thousands of online dorks logging on to complain anytime they lose a match or don't get pushed right)


#1
08-12-2022, 08:02 PM

In record-time, Slater defeats Popinski…

Back feels… wet… Hot…

41 seconds flat!

Huh… Soda feels some… liquid. Crawling up his spine. Down his ass.



After a moment, it dawns on Soda… Oh.

I’m lying in a pool of my own blood.


Seven CONSECUTIVE kidney punches!

There’s... rattling… Somewhere.

It could be misaligned wheels on a gurney…

Liz, this may be the END of Popinski’s athletic career!

Or some dislodged bone inside the Russian.

Tearing him up from the inside out.

Psssh, career?… Sayors, this might be the end of his LIFE…

Popinski struggles to draw breath… A sharp stabbing pain rips down his chest…

Fuuuuuuuuck. Guess I shouldn’t breathe…

Heartbreaking, Liz…



Anyway, don’t touch that dial! We’ve got coverage on Slater versus new XWF Champ Mark Flynn…

Dark, blurry edges at the corners of his vision creep inwards. Like vultures circling in over a dead rabbit.

As he blacks out…

For the briefest moment…

The pain is gone.



Fists shaking.

“Y’know, Soda.”

Teeth grinding. Like a rabid dog, saliva drips down his chin.

“Call me crazy.”

Literally Salivating for vengeance.

Flynn strokes his chin, smiling, leaning against the wall.

“But I have the strangest feeling… That you’re MAD about something?”

Soda steps into Flynn’s stance, bypassing his defenses! Soda reels down, looking for his trademark uppercut!

BIG SWING!

…But Flynn nimbly grapevines his feet, spinning past Soda and away from the wall, back toward the room's center.

“C’mon… Talk. What’s wrong, Did Slater hitcha so hard, he beat the English out of you?”

“SHUTUP.”

Popinski launches a straight right. Flynn dips left off it, forcing Soda to keep moving to close the distance.

The ol’ rope-a-dope.

“There you go. We’re trading WORDS. The healing process begins.” Flynn mocks, aiming to keep Popinski too angry to think. “See, Soda, I understand you’re mad. Possibly at me? But, honestly, seeing your purple ass? Field day for me. This proves what I already knew.”

“Robert Miles is behind all this Universe-Jumping bullshit. And he’s doing it to get revenge on me for stealing his identity.”

“Because otherwise? Why the FUCK would he bring your untalented ass? Besides to fuck with me.”


Soda stutter-steps right… Then throws an overhand left!

…But Flynn sees through the pump-fake trick, dodge-spinning off again.

“You’re a SHIT boxer. And a NON-wrestler.”

“SHUT UP, I SAID. FIGHT ME.”

“Why would I? You’re beneath me, Popinski.”

Soda’s already starting to slow… A 12-pack-a-day of sugar water means his stamina has always been shit. If he hasn't won by Round 2? It’s already over.

“And worst of all? You haven’t upgraded A SINGLE MOVE in your repertoire since 2012.”

“I won’t fight ya, Soda.”


Soda tosses a gut-punch. Flynn side-steps it…

“…But I will put you out of your misery.”

And clinches! He slinkes to Popinski’s side, leaning into his ear…

“Sad. Ten years later, I bet those kidneys still ache.

…Let’s find out if you BLEED DOBRY…”


Soda struggles to break Flynn's grip. But Flynn holds tight, reeling back with right…

HE DELIVERS A BLOW TO POPINSKI’S LOWER BACK!

CLINK!



Wait, clink?



“…”

“…Ennnnnnnnnnnnngh.”

“Ah, finally. You’re… present. I’ve… visited a few times in the past.”

“*cough* Ahhhhhhh…”

“I would… recommend that you abstain from… unnecessary over-exertion. You have been… recovering for… quite a while.”

“…Recovering? Are you doctor?”

“No, Mister Popinski. Merely a… fan of yours. I became one after witnessing your… most… impressive performance.”

“*snort*…You watch correct match? Most people would not call fighter ending up hospitalized ‘impressive’.”

“No, they would not. Nor would I. I did not mean your match versus Tristan Slater. I instead meant observing your… recuperation. A man of lesser… resolve… would have died.”

“…Good to know.”

“Such resolve would serve my… objective. Very, very well.”

“Objective?”

“Yes, Mister Popinski. I have a… long-term mission. An assignment I would offer you.”

“In return for your performance, I will be... personally handling your… significant… medical debts.”


“...Sorry, Who ARE you?”

“As I said… A fan. More pertinently, a fan currently negotiating purchase of a modest ownership percentage in the XWF.”

“...This assignment would involve fighting, yes? As I am boxer.”

“...In a less… regulated sense than your professional matches. But, yes. This would be a fight.”

“I am not in…. How-you-say… SHAPE for your ‘assignment’.”

“I am well-aware of the… long-term nature of your… recovery. The assignment will begin after you’ve been appropriately readied… and equipped.”

“...Da. And what is assignment?”

“I want you to Kill Mark Flynn.”



“I’m sure you have… much to cons-”

“I accept. When do we start?”



“…I appreciate your… enthusiasm. We shall begin at the conclusion of… physical healing. Shall I …acquire anything that might… expedite this process?”

“Dobry. In bulk.”


Flynn grits his teeth, like he just punched a steel girder…

No metaphor intended. Flynn’s punched steel before and this feels 1-to-1 like that.

Flynn squeezes his aching fist… He socked Soda’s kidney and now his knuckles are bleeding.

“The fuck did you do, Soda?”

Soda smiles, reeling back his punch.

“Upgrade.”



Are YOU mediocre at wrestling?

Have you proven time and time again that YOU don’t have what it takes to win the big one?

Is it time for you to hang up your boots?

But you don’t know how to quit while you’re ahead behind a fucking waste of salary-cap on the roster sheet?


An office chair spins around.

Sitting in it, Mark Flynn’s shit-eating grin is on full-blast.

”You’ve come to the right place! I’m Mark Flynn! And I’ve spent ten years ending careers!”

”I’ve ended more wrestling careers than steroid tests, concussions and overdoses combined!”

“But don’t just take my word for it! Take a look at these satisfied customers fuckfaces who wrestled their last match in the XWF losing to Mark Flynn!”


Larry Atkins
Wolfsbane
Killjoy Junior
Raymond Hatcher
Deion Phillips
Michael James
Cassius Stonne
World-1 International
Shawn Hero
Bane Williams
Ezekial Carter-Williams V
Jack Hoff
Ciela Luiz
The Wizard
Oliver Main
Robert 'Omega' Main
Corey Smith

”No, check that list again. See the #1 AND #2 wrestler in the XWF Top 50? Rob Main and Corey Smith?

To whom did they lose their LAST MATCH? Who ENDED THEIR CAREERS?

ME!

MARK!

FUCKING!

FLYNN!”




Flynn pushes his hair back, winking.

”And I can end yours too!”

Cut to Flynn sitting with a big burlap sack full of letters.

”Now, let’s see who we’re helping retire this week… Today’s letter comes from a dilapidated trailer in Steubenville, Ohio!” Flynn slides on his reading glasses…

“It reads…”

[Image: J32Tt2M.png]



One tear runs down Flynn’s cheek, which he quickly brushes away.

“Wow, this one…phew… I can actually FEEL it tugging at my heartstrings."

He folds up his reading glasses, pointing at the camera.

"Tyler and Emily, it would be my honor to send your Daddy TO THE UNEMPLOYMENT LINE!”

”And I've never seen someone more ready for retirement than ol’ Papa Char-Char.”

“Chuck SAYS he’s still an elite-talent. But, let’s run a quick performance evaluation. Chuck loves swinging for belts but does he knock his title shots out of the park? SURVEY SAYS...”


Quote:Vs Bourbon for Warfare MVP (L) - 9/2/20
Vs Omega for X-Treme (L) - 9/12/20
Vs Sarah Lacklan for Uni (L) - 9/27/20
Vs TK for TV (W) - 11/14/20
Vs Corey & Thad for Tags (L) - 2/27/21
Vs Betsy for TV (W) - 11/30/21
Vs Flynn & NK for Tags (L) - 4/20/22
Vs Alias for Uni (L) - 5/29/22
Vs Flynn & NK for Tags (L) - 6/22/22
Vs Alias for Uni (L) - 7/24/22



“No chance. For a guy who loves moaning-for-title-shots, Chuck has an ABYSMAL track record. He’s 2-8 LIFETIME challenging for belts.”

“Including 0-3 swinging for the Uni.”

“AND 0-3 targeting the tag belts.”

“Now, clearly Charlie must be convincing somebody that he deserves these chances…”

“Though, I can’t imagine how persuasive Charlie Nickles is. Did you watch his last fucking promo?”

“Y’know. I knew that asking Charlie to bet the only thing he values would send his heart-a-racin’.”


Flynn chuckles in disbelief.

“But I didn’t think he’d shit his pants, have a stroke… then mail it in as a segment.”

Flynn shakes his head.

“Holy shit, Char-Char, what the fuck was any of that fuckin’ word-spaghetti? You want us to believe that you dared me to put my Tag Title on the line in exchange for a shot at your Uni belt.”

“Y’know, the one that you FAILED to win.”

“THEN, when I called out that your ante was short and I asked you to bet your right to ever challenge for the the Uni again…”

“...This was all part of your plan to… demand a career versus career match. To prevent me from cashing-in the Uni Shot I won at the Cannabis Cup…

“That A. you KNEW what the Cup winner would receive (a thing that was not announced publicly)... and that B. you KNEW I would win the whole fucking show. Which means you ALSO knew you’d lose at the Cannabis Cup?”

“Do you fuckin’ see how many percocets you have to dump into your beer to recreate Charlie’s brainwaves here? This fool-proof plan requires him to know that I dominated SEVEN FEDERATIONS OF TALENT. WINNING FIVE MATCHES IN THREE NIGHTS. And that HE’D fuck up ANOTHER Uni Title shot.”


Flynn shrugs.

“I mean, maybe I’m wrong… Gasp, wait! What IF I’m wrong?!?! What if Charlie does have everything under his control? What if he is a puppetmaster and we’re all dancing at the pulling of his strings! I mean, do I have any evidence to the contrary? It’s not like before his trash talk, he and TK are having a full-on panic attack about how all of their plans have gone to shit.”



“Wait, hold on.”

Flynn spins his chair towards his TV. He hits a button on his chair that says ‘FIND HYPOCRISY’.

Quote:Goddamn it, now we’re back to ground zero… Again! Your il-laminate daughter ruined our entire plan for Relentless! How the fuck are we going to stop that shit-show Kidd-o vs Flyminal Main Event from happening on night three now? The top brass is going to shoehorn that shitty headline and kill the whole fucking show! And low ratings means low pay, for everyone! BOB needed that briefcase!

“...Huh. Guess I DO have evidence that Chuck is full of shit.”

“Of course, maybe this is all part of the Machiavellian ruse! Thunder Knuckles just WANTS me to think that BOB didn’t want to drop the X-Treme Title. Clearly, BOB has never been stronger than right now!”

“After all, it’s not like TK is having unconscious episodes mid-training in his promos…”

“Or Bourbsy is clearly in the middle of a word-counting psychotic episode…”

“Or, and I swear you can check my math, BOB hasn’t won ONE SINGLE tag-match in the year of our Lord, 2022.”




“Wait, actually, all of that is true.”

“See, Chuck. What the world is seeing right now is called NARRATIVE DISSONANCE. There’s a plainly obvious disconnect between the story you’re telling: Charlie Nickles is the best in the XWF and should get ANOTHER Uni Title Shot and a SECOND chance to headline Relentless… Two places he’s already LOST HUMILIATINGLY.”

“And the story we’re seeing: Charlie Nickles is a fat, out-of-shape idiot who can’t win big matches, is the third most-popular Bastard… wait, forgot Barney FOURTH most-popular Bastard… and is so disconnected from reality, that he’s out here claiming that Flynn-versus-Kido wouldn’t move tickets.”

“I’ll repeat that.”

“Raion Kido. The man who beat Alias. The most dominant rookie in XWF History. The man who soared to the top of the card in record-time, beating some of the most top-tier talents in XWF.”

“Versus Mark Flynn. The First-Ever Cannabis Cup Winner. THE MAN WHO BEAT THE BEST TALENT THAT SEVEN WRESTLING COMPANIES HAD TO OFFER. The TWO-TIME World Heavyweight Champion. The man who’s beat FIFTEEN of the TOP 50, THREE XWF LEGENDS AND TEN UNIVERSAL CHAMPIONS.”

“Kido versus Flynn.”

“Who the fuck would watch that?”

“You know what people really wanna see?”

“The Nickleman CHOKE.”

“For the FOURTH.”

“FUCKING.”

“TIME.”

“Charlie Nickles in the Main Event. That’ll put asses in the seats.”

“OH BUT WAIT! I almost forgot. Charlie Nickles ENDED the six-year undefeated streak of the North Korean War Criminal! He’s one of the best of all-time! Right, Chuck?”

“I mean after all, it’s not like NK spent FIVE OF THOSE SIX YEARS ABSENT!”

“You fucking idiot, you failed the easiest research-check there is.”

“NK spent from 2016 to 2021 in the deep freeze of a Baskin Robbins.”

“Oh! But… he still wrestled from 2021 to 2022 without a singles loss, right? That must mean NK’s still a big fish to catch! Chuck must be right, NK is the real talent that Mark Flynn is coattail-riding to the top! After all, It’s not like there’s documented XWF footage of NK being dogshit in the ring.”




Flynn cackles.

“Oh, whoops, here it is.”

“Check NK the WEEK before I started coaching him. In a match with Betsy Granger, he tried six moves… And he hit ONE! He hit himself with his own steel folding chair as many times as he hit Betsy.”

“That’s the guy you’re bragging on beating, Chuck. That’s your proof that you’re top-dog. A win over the fucking greener-than-gooseshit War Criminal who took two months to learn an ARM DRAG.”

“That guy… still has two wins over your one. The only difference, of course, is… The two times NK won… I was tagging with him. In fact, Chuck, maybe your brains were so scrambled after that tag-match, you don’t remember what happened.”

“NK pinned you. But I’m the one who bashed your head in with a two-by-four. NK has two wins on ya, but I’M the guy that beat you twice.” Flynn winks.

“So, according to Char-Char math. I’m dogshit and NK is the real talent in our partnership. But also, when you pull me out of the equation, suddenly Chuck beats NK...”

Flynn’s finger waves through the air trying to balance the scale. He scratches his head…

“Doesn’t quite add up. Let’s start over… And for giggles, instead of BULLSHIT, let’s use FACTS.”

“FACT: NK thinks a snapmare is a flower you can find in the Pyongyang mountains.”

“FACT: NK tried to google forklift certification courses when I tried to teaxh him a piledriver.”

“FACT: NK thinks a Frankensteiner was the name of the Doctor and that people should instead say ‘Frankensteiner’s Monster’.”

“And this GOON. This STUPID IDIOT… Is the XWF Superstar of the Month.”

“I beat Corey Smith. Then, I carried a fucking War Criminal to an award Corey never won in his entire career.”

“NK… That fucking gibbering FOOL… BEAT EVERYONE AT WARGAMES. Including Peter Vaughn. Including Chuck’s daughter. Including RAION FUCKING KIDO.”

“And you know how he got there? After losing to you, Char-Char? TWO WEEKS OF INTENSIVE TRAINING! FROM MARK! FUUUUUUUUUCKING! FLYYYYYYYYYYYNN.”

“I coached a fucking mook. I trained A CLOWN. To beat the Universal Champion. The guy who beat you at the Cannabis Cup.”

“What do you think is going to happen when an actual wrestler faces off with Kido? The strategies I tested, the methods I formulated… Utilized by someone who has spent every SECOND of every MINUTE of every DAY OBSESSING OVER THE MOMENT THAT HE COULD BE DENIED NO LONGER!”

“THAT THE POWERS-THAT-BE COULD NO LONGER REJECT MY CLAIM TO BEING.”

“THE.”

“GREATEST.”

“WRESTLER.”

“WHO.”

“EVER.”

“LIVED.”

“Since Day One.”




“And now I stand.”

“At the precipice of achieving my life’s work.”

“Two moves from checkmate.”

“Two moves from securing the highest achievement in WRESTLING TODAY.”

“THE XWF UNIVERSAL CHAMPIONSHIP.”




“But… Anyone who’s paying attention can see one… obstacle.”

“And no, I’m not talking about Kido. If I can teach a trained chimp to beat Raion Kido, I’ve got his ass fucking SOLVED.”

“No. The problem is YOU, CHUCK. You’re a nuisance. A distraction.”

“Theo and Vinnie should’ve already rewarded my OBVIOUS TALENT. THEY SHOULD HAVE BEGGED ME TO TAKE THE UNIVERSAL CHAMPIONSHIP THE MOMENT I STEPPED FOOT BACK IN THIS COMPANY.”




“But, they were… occ-u-pied. By a glue-eating, crayons-up-his-nose, MORON. The kid who whines for an A, because fine, he didn’t say the correct answer, but he sure said his answer the loudest. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Clearly, it does, Chuck. Because you’ve gotten FOUR Universal Title Shots. And I won’t risk the powers-that-be giving you more of MY chances because you can MISBEHAVE  louder than I can EXCEL. That’s why I bet you your future, Chuck. Because I want you SILENCED.”

“Now, I didn’t ask you to bet your career. I just wanted to make you sit in the corner and watch the more-talented children play with the shiny toy you’ll never TOUCH with your grubby sticky little hands. I wanted to see the look on your face as you SEETHE WITH JEALOUSY. WHEN I TAKE WHAT YOU WILL NEVER GET IN YOUR LIFE.”




“But. If you don’t want to watch in the locker room? If you’d rather lie in a studio apartment. Bed too small for your body. Stairs too numerous for your bad knees. Groceries too expensive for your disability check. Kids too loud for the alcohol to silence. As you slump on the couch, drinking yourself to death. Watching on a 9-inch TV when I WIN what you'll NEVER HAVE?”



“Works for me, Chuck.”

“Say hi to Tyler and Emily for me. And tell ‘em their ol’ pal Mister Flynn says.”

“You're welcome, kids.”

“The Family-Man's returning to his Family.”

“In a bodybag.”

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