Preston’s debut at LoF and subsequent media scrum have left the XWF in a tizzy. Jimmy Stars, backed by XWF Board of Directors (allegedly), inducted Preston into the Hall of Legends future-actively. To make matters worse, the return of Thaddeus Duke hasn’t brought the desired rebuttal of this sham of an induction, leading to speculation that there are truths to its legitimacy.

If that wasn’t bad enough, Jimmy’s allowed Preston to structure the “Freebird Rule” into his contract, permitting him to select one of his three outstanding students to wrestle in his place each booking, with the official records crediting Preston with any wins and titles earned despite him not competing.

But wait, there’s more. He’s in the Black Rainbow and helped flog King Kieran during Aurora’s shocking reveal at LoF.

The trifecta has garnered Preston quick heat, but just when you think he’s done, he goes and outdoes himself………..


The scene opens to all the splendor of a Red Carpet event. A plethora of media and celebrities are present and applauding the obnoxiously long Black Rainbow hummer-limo as it stops and out hops Preston and his proteges Briggs, Dashford, and Regan. They’re NOT dressed like a million bucks. That’s chump-change. They’re dressed like twenty zeroes were added to that million bucks.

The foursome partakes of the finest wines and cheeses presented to them while marching up the steps. At the apex of the stairs, they do the Charlie’s Angels pose, then Preston holds court with his New York accent blaring.

“Thanks for being here! Not gonna lie, this is bittersweet for me. I’m about to step through those doors and take my place in the Hall of Legends, but…”

He clutches his heart as if he’s wounded.

“One of those extraordinary legends is gonna have to go. I don’t make the rules, I just break them.”

He snaps a wink-n-smile for the cameras, melting away the panties of ten million women.

“The poll was made, the people have spoken.”

The camera follows them as they enter the building, marveling at the golden busts and partitions housing priceless memorabilia of the legends.

“The great thing about today isn’t just my placement into this Hall of Legends, it’s that I get to kill two birds with one stone. Enshrinement and address my first opponent, Midnight Michael Saint. We’ll get to Midnight in a moment. I need to find my placement.”

He gestures around like he’s Vanna White showcasing the next puzzle. Suddenly, they head-snap-stop at Aidan Collins’ bust.

Dashford rips off his designer shades. “This isn’t funny. Who put this here?”

“Isn’t he, like, still wrestling?” Regan asks, blowing bubblegum.

“Nah.” Briggs growls. “Well, kinda. He’s doing Make-A-Wish work: some sickly kid named Kline is his biggest fan, so he’s taking him around, letting him wrestle with him.”

They shrug. Regan sticks her gum on Adian’s nose. Preston refocuses on the cameras.

“We had a conundrum. The poll ended in a tie. So, let’s see the two whom the fans selected.”

Preston teases several busts before stopping at one and propping his elbow on it.

“Lee Stone. I dunno what you did to the fans, but they said you gotta go.”

A shrug comes innocent enough, but the synchronized superkick by the foursome doesn’t. The immortalized bust rockets out of frame while the four snap satirical salutes to it, with Regan comically mouthing a sad trombone noise.

“One down. Replace it.”

Workerbees place a glorious bust of Jimmy Stars on the vacated spot. They celebrate, then continue.

“Now mine.”

Preston wraps an arm around James Raven’s bust.

“People’s Goat got ungoated. I like ya, but ya gotta go. Sorry, Atara.”

They quadruple hurl Raven’s bust out of frame, and workerbees replace it with an extravagant bust of Preston. $50,000 champagne bottle celebrations ensue. Preston wipes tears away.

“I’d be remiss if I didn’t use this moment to address my deserving opponent, Michael Saint. Sir, thanks for bringing a crew. It’s allowed Jimmy to flex his brilliant booking mind for our Lumberjack match. You’ll be my iconic debut win, the answer to future trivia questions. But let’s be real, my gang’s superior. You indoctrinated three indies with stalled careers, just like every wrestling messiah type has done. Real original. I didn’t indoctrinate my posse. They chose me after attending and succeeding my businessman-turned-wrestler seminars. They beat out thousands for this unprecedented Freebird-Rule endeavour.”

He brushes away proud tears.

“My gang thinks freely. They’re not afraid to say no. Yours is blindly loyal to a fault. Easily exploited if things go south. They never disobey Valerie, and she’s prone to wigging out; it’s her weakness. What happens if we knock her out? No orders to obey? They’re gonna idle with thumbs up their butts? Why’s Valerie the Temu Emilia and Dr. Cambric? The dark priestess whose incredibly smart schtick is taken, pal. She’s not even hot; never met a camera that didn’t hate her.”

Shaking his head, he chuckles.

“And your Angels of Malice? Cmon. It’s like you revamped them via online name generators. They finish each other’s sentences. When one speaks, the other echoes? So, they’re a couple? Don’t hide that. And why are their reported weaknesses backdoor strengths? Are they wrestlers or applying for jobs? Ha. It doesn’t matter; I’ve got Black Rainbow reinforcements if my posse can’t hang, and more…..”

Snaps fingers and we’re outside. 100 Hells Angels bikers surround his Hummer-limo. Raven’s bust is the hood ornament now.

“They’re escorting me to Sturgis, and they’ll help in my match if needed. I’ve got plan A, B, and C. So, instead of leaving who I pick to represent me as a mystery until the match, I’ll post a poll and the fans decide. Saint, I wasn’t born rich. I was an orphan who poisoned the other kids when the rich came adopting. I eliminated competition; I was their only option. I’ve mastered resourcefulness my entire life. You’ll see.”

Wink.