Hardkore World Latest News:

*The scene opens to find Alex Jackson standing in front of a Hardkore Helloween banner with a smile on his face*

Alex Jackson: Hello to everybody in Hardkore World! My name is Alex Jackson, and it's great to be a part of such a legendary wrestling company. Now... I know there's a lot of guys that like to just come in and brag about how they're the future of this sport and how they're total badasses when they're really not, but that's not me. I'm not here to act like something I'm not. I'm just here to have fun and enjoy myself. I mean... why do something if you can't have fun doing it?

*Alex nods his head*

Alex Jackson: Now, I know that this Helloween gauntlet of sorts entails multi-man barbed wire matches. I'll be honest here folks: this is my first wrestling match altogether. Am I ashamed to admit it? Of course not! I'm here to learn and grow as a competitor, and I guess having some flesh torn by razor sharp barbed wire is a perfect trial by fire, huh? I'm ready to go through my first hell to start my quest to get better and eventually reach the very top.

*Alex reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper with the names of all his first round opponents on it*

Alex Jackson: So let's see who I'm facing first... Vile "Vince" Viper, which is kind of a weird name since what I think is supposed to be first first name is a nickname of some kind. James Fierce, who I hear is a legeend around these parts. It'll be an honor to face you, sir. Brock Sisson, who is new like me and only really cares I guess about hurting people. The Shootfighter, who is a longtime veteran who most people see as a joke. But not me, sir. I believe that you'll probably be one of the most deadly competitors in this match because of your experience edge. Tric is a guy I hear has a pretty unhealthy obsession for the holliday of Halloween. Well... Halloween has past now even though he haven't had this event yet, so you might want to just take some medicine and chill out.

*Alex tosses the list aside*

Alex Jackson: Now... I saved Marv Xanz for last on purpose because this guy truly has some problems. I mean... hiding underneath a paper bag for a mask and claiming that wrestling isn't real? You can't possibly be serious, dude. Who are you to just come in and claim that this is fake? I'm willing to bet that you truly have no talent at all and will get eliminated in five seconds, tops. You have some real problems man, and you picked the wrong sport to try and target for your personal issues. This is a sport where people beat the hell out of each other for a living, and you think it's all fake? We'll see how fake it is when your body is being raked across that barbed wire. I bet you'll think someone was sawing into your body. How much fun will that be, Marv?

*Fade*

Fades to Pretender by Foo Fighters pumping from the home stereo system of Abe Rogers built in gym. A very simple facility with the basic free weight room, some machine weights, pull up bar, tread mill, and a couple of abdominal machines. Camera fade into Rogers in a white tank top, some grey sweats with the US Marine logo on the right leg and simple white Nike sneakers with some worn out weight lifting gloves bench pressing what appears to be between 250 to 300 hundred pounds. He breathes easy and slow as he brings the weight down inches from his chest, then raises it slowly into the air causing the muscles in his chest and arms to bulge with each lift at the final rep he breathes deep as he groans and slowly lifts the weights back into the air for a final time before racking them back on the bench. Rogers sits up grabbing a towel to wipe himself off taking a three minute breather before beginning again.

A woman’s voice – I hope you’re not pushing yourself too hard…

The music is lowered as a woman in her late thirties stands by the door in a simple blue jump suit with white sneakers similar to Abe’s. Her hair is raven black and is up in a simple pony tail. Her look and shape is womanly yet simple…that of a timeless and breathless beauty one can stare at with much love and admiration. And no one stares at her with more love and admiration than her husband the American Fighting Machine.

Abe Rogers – Just doing a couple of reps to keep the blood pumping…how about a hug and a kiss from my favorite girl.

Annie Rogers – No thank you…you’re all sweaty…not to mention they are around…

Abe Rogers – They?

Annie Rogers – Yes…they…

Motions to the Hardkore World cameras crew…a cough of nervousness comes from the sound grip.

Annie Rogers – I’ve seen enough of their “shows” from the videos you have to study on how they like to twist “intimate” situations…and innocent kiss turns into a triple X video with these people…When are they leaving good sir? And how long must we endure them?

Abe Rogers – I promise you my dear…I will cut this promo and they will be on their way.

Annie Rogers – Good…I’d like my home back to some type of normalcy if you don’t mind…now I’m going to run the tread mill before I make you dinner…(motions to the camera crew)...when you boys are done there are some sandwiches and lemonade in our kitchen that I made for you all…I hope it’s enough.

Microphone guy – Uh…thank you ma’am.

Mrs. Rogers walks past her husband to head over to the treadmill but not before kissing him on his battle scared dome head. He goes to grab her playfully, but she smacks him away heading about her business.

Annie Rogers – Behave honey…

Abe Rogers – (Motions to the cameras) Welcome to what ever few people or fans get to see…the inner sanctum of both my wife and I…our home. Like a said we live a very calm and simple life with all the action being reserved for the ring.

Once again I stand before a Hardkore World camera crew being broadcast to the fans…which I hear like to listen to me talk…which is very ironic due to the fact that I don’t like to talk…I really don’t…my wife can tell you that…

Camera do a quick swing to Annie Rogers running a brisk pace on the tread mill.

Annie Rogers – He really doesn’t….and could you keep the cameras OFF me please?

Microphone guy – Uh…sorry ma’am.

Back to Rogers…

Abe Rogers – So what does ole Abe do when he’s not doing community service, coaching football practice, or just working out with his lovely wife? Recon boys…recon. Know thy enemy…the key way to win a war people…and since everyone and they mama loves to point out that I’ve NEVER competed in a Hardkore World ring save for my very short stint in the South…I’ve been boning up on my homework.

Watching Poke the Clown and his classic matches extreme type matches with Kilroy Evans…

Caught Manwel’s debut in both All Asia Pro and America…

Caught a couple of Dave Brickheart matches and spent the weekend watching the best of Tong Fairtex…

Only person I haven’t been able to find yet is this new entry Leo Van Dam…didn’t know Rob had a brother…or is he Jean Claude’s brother?

Anyway…the other person who also was extremely difficult to find…has been the LOUDEST of the bunch of individuals I will be facing…especially when it comes to me of late…is Dougie Ray Bullet

The problem wasn’t that he didn’t have matches he was in here in Hardkore World…he had plenty…problem was apparently I was doing my research in the wrong place…

I was looking for a DVD that read…”This Heart Still Beats” the absolute best of Dougie Ray Bullet…turns out Hardkore World DVD archives has no such thing…

Then I started to surf You Tube and do a Wiki on him….and what I found was quite stunning…

Majority of the matches you’ve been in while competing in Hardkore World…YOU’VE LOST…

Dougie Ray Bullet versus Marty Donovan for the Hardkore Nippon Grand Championship – No contest…I’ll give you that one son…Shiro sticking their nose into people’s business…like damn cockroaches they are…the men anyway.

Dougie Ray Bullet and Marty Donovan versus The Untouchables – Lost…due to you switching sides…shame on you son…shame on you…

The Untouchables…with you in it versus The House of Pain…Won…and with it the Six Men World Tag Belts…congratulations…your deal with the devil paid off…

The Untouchables…with you in it versus The Highlights of Humanity…Lost…and because of it you were beaten badly and sidelined for a couple of months…apparently you paid the true price with dealing with the devil.

You and Big Stan Wilson versus the Fist of Blood in a Weapons Match – Lost….

Hardkore Helloween 2008…eliminated first round…

After that you faced and lost to Rated X…badly…

Wargame Match with the Manhattan Project…Six Men World Tag titles belts on the line…LOST…

All Asia Pro Burning Spirit….you versus Jagi Shiro with the World Light Heavyweight and All Asia Pro Heavyweight title both on the line…lost due to submission (how do you lose to Jagi Shiro?)

2009 Frank Marano Tournament…think you lost the second or third round but you never won the tournament…

Palms Springs Punishment tournament…you finest moment…tore through every to get to the end…but in the end…LOST…

Kilroy Evans Presents Irish Rage in Belfast 2009 You versus Ken Shiro in a Lumberjack weapons match…LOST…

Rogers pauses scratching his head with a perplexed look on his face.

Abe Rogers – Now…call me crazy…(which I am)…I enjoy taking a ribbing like the next guy now and then…that American F yeah promo…enjoyable…but why am I taking pop shots from a guy whose spent majority of his career…on his back?

Annie Rogers – Be nice Abe…

Abe Rogers – You son…have seriously misrepresented yourself…I thought you were on the level of say…Andrew Karnage…Kilroy Evans…Rally Jackson…heck Triple B or even Tanner…you’re greatest accomplishment was ONE Six Men World Tag title…you weren’t even present for the first one your stable held…but you were present when you lost on the first title defense.

Son…you’re coming off like you’re Hulk Hogan…Sting…or Rick Flair…when you’re nothing more than a SD Delivery Jones…Brooklyn Brawler or Iron Mike Sharp…

I have to say…I’m a bit insulted son…really am…

One…because you’re puffing your chest up…and there’s nothing but air there…

Two…while I a highly decorated competitor of the BWI has done my homework on you…

It’s clear you haven’t done a damn bit of homework on me son…you just choose to run your little mouth off…

Little info…I won my SIX Extreme title off of Raoh Shiro…and I did it by lifting that 490 pound hefty ass son of a bitch off the mat and driving him to hell.

Annie Rogers – Language honey…

Abe Rogers – Yes dear… (Back to the cameras) and I know what you’re already going to say son…this isn’t the BWI…I get that…whole new battlefield, but what you keep forgetting is that an ass kicking is the same in ANY language…and you son are walking both arrogantly and blindly into a live mine field…and you will get blow up if you are not careful.

I get it son…you’re full of intensity now…pushing yourself to be a REAL bonefide badass…the problem with that is…you’re dealing with a man who was a badass from the womb…and I’ve got tin from a REAL life battlefield and a ringside one to back it up.

So by all means…continue to MOCK the old solider coming to Hardkore World…we’ll see what the fans remember more…your little entertaining jokes or when you finally get DEALT WITH by one of the toughest S.O.B to fly the colors proudly…

I suggest you do your homework son…because as you know…KNOWING IS HALF THE BATTLE…

Rogers snaps off a still salute to a fade out.

*The scene opens to find Poke The Clown seated in a leather recliner at home, looking over a list. This list contains the names of his opponents in the first round of this year's Helloween. Poke's eyes roam up and down over the list, yet no smile can be found anywhere on his painted face*

Poke: "This... is disappointing guys. I mean, the guys I have to face for my first battle royal of Helloween this year are, for the most part, a pretty dismal group overall. I even gave you guys somewhat of a head start considering that the only promo I've shot up until now was to voice some personal concerns I had for what's gone on around here while I've been away. For the most part, I've been virtually ignored, which is a shame considering that I'm the odds-on favorite to win our battle royal guys. And I seriously mean that, in case none of you have been paying attention to your local gambling parlor or been to Vegas to see the line in person. There is really only one person in this battle royal that I respect as a competitor and can honestly say he'll be my tougherst challenge here. So that said... I'll save the best for last."

*With a sigh, Poke grabs a pack of cigarettes from the nearby table and pulls one out, sticking it in his mouth as he sets the pack back on the table. He pulls a lighter out from one of the pockets in his trenchcoat and lights the cigarette, taking a puff and blowing the smoke into the air before continuing*

Poke: "I'll be honest... aside from this one person, who I'll get to later, the talent is kind of lacking in this battle royal. I can't even bring myself to think of anything particularly violent and special to do to anybody. Guess I'll have to save that for the next round then. But let's start with Leo Van Dam. I... don't know a whole lot about this guy, other than he's a part of the House of Love and I'm assuming is some distant relative of Rob Van Dam or something, given the name. Then again, I heard he had a small stint as one-half of the America Tag champions. Nice job, kid. You showed everyone that, at least for a small time, the House of Love could produce something decent for once. But will that save you here? No, it won't. Being a former Tag champion won't help you out when you're separated from your partner and have to oppose one of the sickest maniacs to ever step foot in this company. I'm afraid that you're run of stunning the world is over, because you won't be getting past me.

We also have Dave Brickheart. Now Dave, I know a bit more about you. You're a guy that seems to do quite well when you put your mind to your task, but therein lies the problem: you have two sides to your mind struggling for dominance. There's a good side and an evil side, one more sadistic than the other. Do me a favor Dave and let your evil side loose for this match. I would love to see exactly how sadistic it can be compared to what I'm capable of. But that's just my suggestion. Personally, I can tell you that it really doesn't matter which Dave Brickheart shows up, because your mind will never fully be on this match so long as it's divided in two and trying to see which side emerges victorious in the end. Because of that, you'll be walking away a bloody mess if you can even walk at all. I guess it just depends on how well you're capable of withstanding what I can throw at you."

*Poke takes another drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke into the air as he slowly shakes his head*

Poke: "Then we have Tong Fairtex trying to see if he can psychoanalyze me all while having one of those boring little movie review shows. I never liked those things, to be honest. Far too dull for my taste, just like Tong. And by the way Tong... don't try to put too much effort into trying to figure me out, because you'll only end up giving yourself a headache. Most professional psychologists have a hard time trying to figure me out. I don't need to tell you which Poke will be showing up... because they'll both me there. What you fail to understand is that my 'two sides' as you call them have become one. I'm still one of the most violent and mentally unstable people in Hardkore World, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy hurting other people. I get a kick out of watching someone bleed by my hand, I don't mind if I feel blood trickling down my own face. I'll just say that I have my reasons for dressing like a clown and leave it at that, because you seem pretty much incapable of really taking a truly in-depth look into your opponent's head and calling what you see correctly. You'd be wise to heed the words of wisdom from your trainer, because disrespecting me earns you a one-way trip to the emergency room, and I doubt you'd really want to go above a simple hospital visit to get stitched up."

*Poke chuckles*

Poke: "Next we have Manwel... from what I've seen, this guy claims to be all about honor. Kind of funny, because I've constantly seen him throw that honor completely out the window to survive in an extreme environment. What's the matter Manwel? Is tradition not applicable when you're in a fight for survival? Can't say that I don't blame you. But before you go ahead and say that I'm not honorable, I'll admit to it. I mean, if you look back to the shit I pulled when I first entered this company, plus the fact that I can have a smile put on my face at the sight of somebody else's blood on my hands, I'm far from honorable. But that's the thing: the 'honor' stuff really won't get you very far in the long run Manwel. Not in this company, it won't. Why do you think Hardkore World is notorious for attracting the truly derranged and psychotic types? This place is named the way it is for a reason. Every match here is survival of the fittest, so don't expect to really get very far by saying that people don't belong in wrestling just because they lack honor. Having no honor is the way of life around here. Why do you think we have a real scumbag as our World champion right now? You've been impressive so far here, I'll give you that. But your roll stops here, because honor won't save you when I'm shredding every last bit of it from your flesh."

*Poke takes another drag of his cigarette*

Poke: "Now we move on to Abe Rogers... the guy that calls himself the American Fighting Machine. First off, I find it amusing that you say you despise the Shiros, because when I look at you I swear I'm looking at a Shiro instead of a guy that served our country. Now, about that... Abe, I respect that you've served our great nation, but you need to understand something... people around here just don't care what you did for our country or how you served in the4 military for so many years. You can wave that grand ol' flag all you want and flaunt all the purple hearts you probably have, but it doesn't necessarily mean people will pay attention to you. This brings us back to why I said you remind me of a Shiro. You have something in common with them: you're absolutely boring as hell and nobody honestly cares about all the stuff you do outside the ring, because none of it means anything when you're inside that ring. And all the 'riveting' war tales of yours? They actually remind me of Pat Bozzini more than they do a Shiro, which is far worse. The point is, nobody cares about them, and nobody really cares about you because you remind us all far too much of them. And another thing... go ahead and bring up that BWI company all you want, but fair warning: any titles you won there weren't Hardkore World titles, meaning that all your accomplishments mean jack shit here Abe. When you enter Hardkore World, you start with a fresh slate and you have to climb the mountain from the very bottom, just like everyone else. I know you really want to get your hands on Matthew X just so he can eliminate your ability to see out of your other eye and end your career here and now, but I'm afraid that I have a far more important matter that I can actually deal with in the exact same show. All I have to do is win this battle royal and I'll get it, since the guy I want will win his battle royal, that's a given. But I already said what I needed to say about that individual, so I'll worry about him when I make it to the second round.

Oh, and by the way, since it seems to have annoyed you a bit, I'll go ahead and say it because I need a good laugh right now... America, Fuck Yeah!"

*Poke pumps his fist in the air as he chuckles, removing the cigarette from his mouth and putting it out in an ashtray on the table beside the recliner. Poke then proceeds to fold up the list in his hands, turning it into a paper airplane that he throws through the air and out of the camera shot*

Poke: "And now that I'm in a good mood, I can move on to this guy without fear of verbally tearing into him for no reason. Now, recall that earlier I said I'd save one guy for last, the guy I believed to be my greatest threat for getting into the second round. There's only one person left on the list... one of my pals in The Manhattan Project, Dougie Ray Bullet. Now Dougie... I really can't bring myself to really say anything bad about you this time, since we're in the same stable and all. But that can change depending on if you address me and how you do it. I'll say this Dougie... I was very impressed with how well you did at Palm Springs Punishment. I know that I screwed up because I just wasn't focused and was eliminated in the very first round, but you made it all the way to the finals and had a direct shot at the vacant World title before Matthew X decided that it was the perfect time to unveil his little pet project from hell. I feel sorry for you because of that little stunt, but that's in the past now. I'm willing to work with you throughout this battle royal Dougie, since we're on the same side and all. We can be the final two, since we're the most deserving people out of this group. From there, it'll become a game of 'may the best man win.' But at that point, our partnership goes out the window since we both want to move on. Best of luck Dougie, because I'm aiming to reach that second round for my own reasons..."

*The camera fades to black here*

[Dougie Ray Bullet...mockingly applauding]

DRB-Bravo Abe, Bravo. You really got me there.

[Stops applause]

Ya know Abe, the more we have these little chats, the more I realize just how big of a douchebag you really are.

I mean seriously, omitting half of my record from Hardkore World? Who does that? That has to be the single lamest, Double-O douchebag move of the century. And Ken Shiro and Pat Bozzini are still alive.

But nonetheless Abbey, I'm happy you're doing your research and are so interested in me. To be honest, I tried to do some research on you, but when I Googled your name, all I got was this...



By the way, does Perry Saturn know you stole his gimmick?

Anyway, that was about as far as the "research" went. Because to be honest, once you've seen one BWI R-Tard then you've practically seen them all. Like black people.

[Que Rimshot]

To be even more honest Abe, quite frankly, you're just not that interesting for me to do any "homework". Because when we get right down to it Abe, you're not even real competition. You're just a slot filler so that Jonnie could have an equal amount of participants in each battle royal. Which pretty much makes you about as needed a used condom. So let's make sure we get that straight before you get this idea in that disgustingly fucked up talking meatball that you call a head that you somehow have the credibility edge here, especially when you haven't proved a single goddamn thing except that you're really good at charity work.

You think I'm gonna get "Dealt With", I more than fucking welcome it Abbey, especially since I won't be that hard to find. I'll the guy choking out one asshole after another after another after another and so on and so forth. Piss poor war stories and ugly scars don't impress me Abbey, how many times do I have to tell you that before it gets through that soft, mushy brain that Uncle Sam mindfucked into submission? I don't back down from any man, even though technically, you're only 1/4 of man considering the spare parts the military used to put your sorry ass back together. And I never run from any fight. So bring that fire Abbey. Bring it and watch in unimaginable pain and agony as it gets extinguished.

Make every claim of being the "toughest SOB" to ever live, while ripping off corny ass GI Joe catchphrases, all you want Abe. Because in the end it won't get you anywhere, except a good night's sleep inside the ER. Which reminds me Abbey, its good that your wife is working on her cardio, because those hospital wheelchairs are heavy to push around. So make sure you dust off that veteran's insurance card, Abbey. You'll be needing it soon enough.

As for my favorite homicidal clown, Poke we're cool, that goes without saying. But I'm gonna tell you the exact same thing I told Karnage before I gave him a concussion. This isn't about the MP's, its about proving just exactly whose the best and worthy of reaching the top of the Hardkore mountaintop. So I will do whatever it takes to get another shot at glory. And if that means taking you out then so be it. But unlike everyone else in this thing, I actually have respect for you. We've battled before, we tore the house down last time we did. But same as last time, I plan on walking out with the "W".

Because now is my time to shine, and my light will scorch anyone who tries to take it away from me.

I will be the last bastard standing...

Because This Heart...Still Beats.

[Fade to Black]

We begin with scratchy audio over the black screen. After a few seconds of Largely uninteresting silence, we hear a few rings of a dial tone)

CREAMER: "I'm in Ireland, right now it’s boring. But not for LONG, fuckers. I'll call you when I'm back stateside. In the meantime, Be sure to watch the news tonight."

(BEEP)

PRE-RECORDED WOMAN'S VOICE: "You have. Thirty-Nine. New Messages. To check Mes..."

(BEEP)

PRE-RECORDED WOMAN'S VOICE: "First message."

HARDKORE JONNIE VALENTINE (with sirens and shouting in the background): "WHAT DID YOU DO?!?! WHAT DID YOU FUCKING DO?!?!? WHERE DID YOU GO, GODDAMMIT!!! WE'VE GOT DOZENS OF INNOCENT PEOPLE HURT HERE, NOBODY CAN FIND SYB TO CONFIRM IF HE'S LIVING OR DEAD, AND ALL THE COPS ARE LOOKING FOR THE WHOLE LOT OF YOU!! I HAD TO FLUSH MY STASH!!! I'VE GOT HALF A MIND TO..."

(BEEP)

PRE-RECORDED WOMAN'S VOICE: "Message. Erased. Next message."

(BEEP)

HARDKORE JONNIE VALENTINE (still with sirens and shouting in the background, but now angrily sobbing): "HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!?!? GOD DAMN IT!! MATT! WE'VE BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH!! HOW WILL I EVER DRAW A HOUSE AGAIN?!?! INSURANCE!! WHO THE HELL WILL INSURE ME NOW?!?! HOW COULD YOU -DO- THIS TO ME?!?!?!?"

(BEEP)

PRE-RECORDED WOMAN'S VOICE: "Message. Erased. "

---


Life after Belfast 2:EB began, as per usual, with decadent splendor for the Cleansing. A few days of the High Life, during which the Cleansing violated many a person's moral standing with copious and public usage of booze, drugs, nude lesbian women on Roller Skates, a few South Korean Tourists who wandered through the -wrong- fucking door altogether, and a bong that may or may not have been made of the skull of John the Baptist. Then came the day of the UN Apology, which, though was every bit the elaborate and brilliant publicity stunt Creamer had envisioned it being, it had a nasty side effect. No, Interpol and every other law enforcement agency who could otherwise incarcerate our heroes were effectively neutralized, no worries there. But out of the woodwork came the vigilantes.

Boasting terribly un-thoughtful names such as the Sons of Ireland, Civilian Terrorism Task Force, Shitkickers with Guns, not to mention no more than Three Militant Lesbian Organizations mortified at having had to see Lucifer Jones' cock waggling around on television like a dirty war club, there was no way of telling which group of whackos were legitimately armed and capable, as opposed to which were 13 year-old shitheads making up something for the internet attention that their parents were denying them. In all likelihood, the ratio was heavily lopsided toward the former. Still, Creamer concluded that now was not the time to make the Cleansing targets to every irrational douchebag with the attention span to make it through the five-day firearm purchasing waiting period. So, despite an incessant amount of protesting from the most dangerous humans on earth, the show went on the road.

The American Anarchist underground, despite literary allusion dating back to the Civil War, is decidedly lacking in glamour. X and Creamer had known this lifestyle for almost a decade, usually involving spending time in cramped quarters without even the basest amount of natural light nor anything resembling fresh air. While there was no shortage of idealistic, if not naïve punks that were willing and even proud to harbor fugitives who may or may not technically be classifiable as terrorists, there was no avoiding the largest inconvenience of the whole situation, largely being…

MADISON (screaming): “…THIS PLACE SMELLS LIKE ASS!!!”

…yeah, there’s that. The Anarchist underground doesn’t exactly smell like Strawberry fucking Fields Forever.

Nonetheless, within this secret militant lair…or smelly ass punker basement, depending upon which glamorization you prefer, just moments away from the campus of a major American University, would be the Cleansing’s temporary base of operation. The swarming, bitching, sulking mass of hyper-murderous humanity negotiated itself into this dark crevasses of America, preceded by a couple of oxygen-sucking gas-masked Icebergs, undoubtedly simmering in their own rank bodily gravy. Following them down the stairs came the Cleansing, each registering the stink of a pungent new locale upon their faces. Individually: Lucifer Jones sneered at the nostril assault as if a fat traffic cop. Creamer stifles a potential up-chuck, shaking his head at his brilliant idea. The World Champion, the Electric Messiah, and ungodly Master of Ceremonies of the Celebrity Roast for Hardkore World that is the Cleansing, Matthew X, seems not to be fazed by the odor of the brave new hovel, but then again, people who wear gas masks in indoor settings tend not to be flustered by inappropriately-placed stenches. But suffering it the worst, predictably, is Madison Dyson. Bundling the lower half of her face beneath her leather trenchcoat, she glares at her surroundings with a hatred that only a heavily-hormonal pregnant Nazi sociopath could muster. And who could blame her? The place does, in fact smell like ass. Finally, Dyson removes her face from the recesses of the coat to once again bitch:

MADISON: “Actually, allow me to append that. THIS PLACE smells like the ASS of 90-year old man with hemorrhoids who lives on a diet of barley and Hormel Chili, who works at a Methane Plant and lives in a swamp with 200% humidity. And that’s AFTER Darkchild pulled her DICK out of it. THAT is the fucking smell you have brought into MY life.”

(Madison punctuates her discontent by stamping her feet, then casts a sidelong glare toward the sweaty, undoubtedly grimy Iceberg standing to her immediate right. She clucks her tongue disapprovingly)

MADISON (revolted): “…Either all that, or it’s just YOU, Federline...”

(Madison derisively smacks the Iceberg on his meaty arm with a balled fist. From beneath its’ gas mask, the Iceberg dies a little inside before Madison stomps over toward Creamer and dramatically turns her rage upon the his right eardrum:)

MADISON (yes, shouting): “SO WHY IS A GROUP CALLED ‘THE CLEANSING’ HAVING TO LIVE IN THE UNCLEANEST PLACE ON THE FACE OF THE PLANET?!?!”

LUCIFER (chiming in): “She’s got a point, mate. At least in prison, someone gets their asshole licked CLEAN once in awhile. There’s NO clean cracks in THIS squat.”

CREAMER (Whining defensively): “JESUS! Did you ever stop to think that people who have a PROVEN TRACK RECORD of blowing up EVERY TOWN they visit, are pretty likely to be BLACKLISTED at the fucking STARWOOD?!?”

(As the inevitable cross-bickering begins, X pulls up his mask, sighing for a moment as the shock of familiar stench begins to register. He shakes it off before finally interrupting the irrational discussion: )

X: “Okay, he DOES have a point, kids. If there’s one thing I’ve leaned from TWO DECADES of counter-culture behaviour, it’s that people such as WE are responsible for bringing PLENTY of fucking weirdos out of the woodwork who are hell-bent on either KILLING you, or living vicariously THROUGH you. Either way, we don’t have enough gasoline to make them all go away, so at least let’s do what we GOTTA to avoid the creepy stalker-types. It’s like a big clingy mob of babbling Bozzinis. We crash here tonight, gather a little intel, get the new van, and we’re off to (deliberate audio edit here), where we can start breathing clean air and drinking away another chunk of one of Maddy’s trust funds. A little stank never killed anybody, fuckers. Kilroy Evans is living PROOF. So PLEASE, shut the fuck up and DEAL for now.”

(At the Champion’s behest, the bitching seems to subside…well, Okay, with one exception. Lucifer Jones ambles forward)

LUCIFER: “Yeah, Lovely fuckin’ sentiment there, Champ…but Daddy’s got him an itch that needs scratchin’, and it sure as fuck ain’t happening in this wank paddy.” (turns to one of the home’s inhabitants, gawking from behind his horn-rimmed glasses and bandana) “Where’s yer nearest den o’ sluts at?”

LOW-RENT PUNKER (nervously): “Well…there’s a sorority house two blocks over, full of hotties…” (bashful, awkward giggle)”…but they’re really mean, I mean… Totally stuck up. One of them kicked Binger in the Jimmy.” (Yet more irritating, awkward giggling)

LUCIFER: “Yeah, that’s all right, see…” (flashes the evil golden-toothed grin of terror)”…See, I specialize in making women nice…and humble.”

X (pointing at Lucifier): “LuJo, don’t you fuckin’ get CAUGHT. We need to bail before the local tards catch wind that we’re in town.”

LUCIFER: (extracting a ski mask from the pocket of his filthy snakeskins): “Oh, no worries there, mate….” (pulls the mask over his head) “…They won’t see me comin’ or goin’.”

(And like an excitable horny child, LuJo bounds up the stairs and into the playground of the night)

X (shrugging): “Just as well. Ever see that guy sleep? He has restless leg syndrome or something. Twitches like a methhead with a pinched nerve.”

(X turns toward the rest of the crew, Icebergs and Local Punkers alike)

X (pointing upstairs): “Tons of fun, you unload the van and set up. Find the LEAST shitty-smelling room in the house and set up the cot and mattress, and you make ABSOLUTELY sure that my, uh…shaving kit is present and accounted for…because, well, if any night of our whole lives screamed for INHALANT ABUSE, then call me Frank Booth, fuckers. Chop CHOP, people!” (X claps his hands rapidly for effect) “VAMONOS!! RAPIDO!!!”

(As per their command, the Hippopotamus-like Icebergs lumber up the staircase, followed by the legion of punkers making sidelong glances at Madison’s ass. Dyson sidles up to X, leaning into him)

MADISON: “MMMyeah…I’m gonna go up and make sure the Natural Disasters don’t break any of my shit…” (Madison looks around again, sniffling disgustedly) “…and then rub Neosporin over ever INCH of my body… Probably twice.”

X (smirking suggestively): “Lubrication. You’re speaking my language now, Frauline…”

MADISON (punches X on the arm in mock disgust): “ASS!”

(Madison sidles up the stairs, her pretend disgust curling into a coy smile and she shoots a final look at X before ascending back into the upper realm of Crustcore Heaven, leaving Creamer and X behind. Creamer grins and throws up his arms triumphantly)

CREAMER (grandiosely, assuming that’s a word): “WELL…here we are in a filthy basement full of revolting virgins…Hey, it’s like the CWF all over again!!!”

X (cutting off a snicker before rolling his eyes and shaking his head): “Yeah, you’re gonna give Roscoe a HEART ATTACK by reminding him of all THAT, now.” (glances upstairs) “You mind kindly heading up and make sure those idiots don’t break any of MY shit?!?”

CREAMER (nodding): “Ja wohl.” (Creamer turns to head upstairs, but stops in his tracks, realizing what he just said, and stares at the World Champion in mock horror) “Jesus, she really DOES rub off on you, doesn’t she?”

X: “Well, technically, the whole rubbing thing’s actually HER job….” (Shrugs, almost guiltily) “…but, yeah, dude. Actually having a woman worth keeping around…and maybe I’m getting OLD…fuckit, I KNOW so…but I think I kinda enjoy the whole ‘Woman’s Touch’ thing. You know?”

CREAMER (at first almost horrified, but eventually begrudgingly nodding): “Holy shit…we’re getting DOMESTICATED. Maybe I should settle down next.” (flashes X a thoughtful look) “You think I could teach the RollerWhores to COOK?”

X (pointing intently at Creamer): “If YOU can teach those bitches to make CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES and dyke each other OFF at the SAME TIME, I SWEAR I will have them thrown into the mix before you can say ‘Polyamory’. So fucking THERE. Now, could you head up already?! I SWEAR, I can practically HEAR a 500 pound Doc crushing my bottle of Jack.”

CREAMER: “Well, what are YOU gonna do?”

(X points directly at the camera, set up neatly in the corner of the room, which seems to magically appear wherever promos become necessary)

CREAMER: “Ah.” (he shrugs and heads upstairs)

(Not a moment too soon. X grabs a folding chair from the edge of the room and pulls it directly in front of the camera. He goes to sit down…but, upon further inspection of the chair, decides to save his leather Jeans from the glop of DNA upon the seat, and instead shoves it haphazardly into the corner with a clank. Throwing up his hands in disgust, he instead squats down onto his haunches, coming face to face with you. Yes, you. X mock-salutes the camera in heavily sarcastic greeting)

X (melodramatically): “HIYA, fuckers. Champion here. I know, isn’t it TIRING waiting for me to take valuable time out of MY adventurous life to speak to you, the beltless chattel of the most dangerous and exciting Wrestling Federation on the face of the EARTH. Yet as ALWAYS, I eventually make it worth your while to EXPERIENCE the Splendor that is the CLEANSING. SO pop a tab and clean out your ears, I have plenty to address here in H-K-W. To wit:”

(X mock-thinks for a minute, rolling his eyes upward in concentration before furtively snapping his fingers and pointing toward the camera)

X: “Point number ONE: ATTENTION new wrestlers, wrestlers who haven’t beaten anybody GOOD, and perennial MID-CARDERS who haven’t done anything worthwhile in MONTHS: STOP USING MY NAME TO GET YOURSELF OVER IN YOUR PRO-MOS. QUIT flattering yourself. None of you will EVER be wrestling ME. QUIT riding my nuts like I would ever otherwise ACKNOWLEDGE you.”

(A big breath, a smiley sneer, and we continue)

X (a little calmer, but still pretty manic): “Jonnie Valentine KNOWS better than to INSULT me or his audience by putting his Legendary World Champion in the ring with a CRAP-spewing NON-ENTITY. We SAW how the Dougie Ray Bullet experiment went. SO, Ugly-ass soldier guy, N-Bomb dropping RETARD, suspiciously-familiar black dude, and yes, even the Clown who hasn’t been remotely RELEVANT nor ENTERTAINING since he stopped pounding underaged COOCH. NONE of you are a challenge or a factor in OUR MACHINATIONS. NONE of you are IMPORTANT nor INSULTING enough to be worth CLEANSING. Thank you and GOOD NIGHT.”

(X clears his throat, cocks his head, and starts all over again)

X: “Point the SECOND: With the recent…(A big, nasty grin crosses over X’s face)…TRAGEDY in IRELAND, a.k.a. “Vietnam with White Guys”, I fully realize that, just like his sociological ideal before him, Michael Jackson, there are bound to be a great many…’tributes’ to the memory of Syberus. Assuredly, every Boys Academy Drama Club, Drag Bar Revue, Comedy Improv team, Morning Zoo Crew, and indeed, dozens of lonely shut-ins with a supporting cast of CATS across this great land will be CLAMORING to revisit the life’s work of their decidedly-LESS-than-masculine hero, and well, why the fuck NOT. However SHITTY and INACCURATE they may be, the lame sentiments being expressed, however poorly, are at LEAST heartfelt, and the grief of an early death allows the SENTIMENTAL amongst us to FORGIVE the many faults and failings of the…of the VICTIM.”

(X pauses to wipe away what may or, well, MAY NOT be a sincere tear before the saga continues)

X: “That being SAID…Marty, hate being the one to shit in your Fruit Loops, but your whole ‘American Syberus’ schtick, even considering the COMPETITION, comes off, well, let’s say, a wee bit too LOW RENT and DESPERATE for the majority of us to REALLY buy into. You’re better served, y’know, spending time convincing YOURSELF that your SECONDARY title actually MEANS something in the grand scheme of the CLEANSING’s Hardkore World. That, and the usual, hanging out by the bleachers at High School Football games, offering the Sophomore Girls free Hard Lemonades and asking them if they want to come out to your truck and see your belt. Stick to being YOU, Martin. We’ll handle the dictating the courses of CAREERS around this place.

(X rubs his spiky hair underneath his gas mask, which serves just as well for a transition as anything else does)

X: “Okay, now Adrian. I guess we get to try this AGAIN.”

(X stands up off of his haunches for a second to stretch out, groaning with relief. Meanwhile, you’re just sitting there, waiting for more words to hang on. X settles back down again and lowers himself to camera-level, looking increasingly bored)

X: “Adrian, I took a LOT of fucking flack for the perception that in Ireland, I wasn’t giving either you OR this match the credit people seemed to THINK it all deserved. And while it wasn’t at all PERSONAL, I think I’m entirely justified in my actions. And why the fuck WOULDN’T I be? This was a Ridiculous, INCONVENIENT match made entirely on a GRUDGE by Kilroy, specifically designed to DEPRIVE me of the things that not only that I do best, but the things that everyone INVOLVED with Hardkore World, whether they admit it or not, GET OFF on seeing me do. So, yeah, Adrian, I kind of didn’t break my balls on it. But you know what? DESPITE the roadblocks put in there by your stablemate, not only did you not come anywhere NEAR getting my belt, but you came out of it with only the most BASE and MINIMAL evidence that you should receive a rematch. SO Adrian, as such, I give you only the most base and minimal amount of credit for not outright LOSING.”

(Slow sarcastic applause. But only for a second)

X: “But see, Adrian, while you STILL have my attention, the thing that has me a little more…MOTIVATED this time around, is that, at long last, that this is NOT an INCONVENIENT match. This is exactly what I thrive upon, and what should keep YOU up at night WORRYING. See, if I should desire something to grind the flesh from your bones…hey look, there it is. If I NEED something to bash you against, over and over again…it’s just a couple of steps away. Hell, If I need something to TOSS you off of, for the visceral THRILL of hearing you go SPLAT on the mat…or the ground, whichever…like the first cop from REC…I need not have to look far. And Adrian, I can ASSURE you, that if I need something to KEEP people from interrupting my WORK whilst people in the audience squeal ‘Oh my god, what is he DOING to him?!?’…well, it’s like a gift from above, Aids. This is MY convenience, oh Light Heavyweight Champion. And YOU’RE the one who has deal with a match that handicaps and de-motivates YOU.”

(X rubs his hands together thoughtfully)

X: “I’m hoping my words will MOTIVATE you, Adrian, but in reality, I can completely understand if they don’t. After all, the last couple of shows have created a precedent, in that the MAIN EVENTS kind of pale in comparison to the…let’s just say the AFTERMATH. And seriously, just what good does the remote possibility of actually winning my title mean when there’s a HIGH probability of being immolated, trampled or blown to pieces immediately afterwards? I mean, we’re in CLEVELAND, for Christ’s sake. This is a city where the RIVER caught on FIRE, and it took a day for anybody to even NOTICE. How much do you think WE could get away with before anybody notices or even CARES? The possibilities are simply ENDLESS, Aids…and need I remind you, you wouldn’t be the first person in Hardkore World to decide to cut their losses, title match or NO title match, and just BAIL. You’d look just as stupid for DOING so…but the option is THERE for you.”

(X moves in a little more toward the camera, but you should have figured that out by now)

X: “Aids, when Jonesy, Maddy and I conceptualized the CLEANSING, we envisioned ourselves as Gallant White Anarchistic KNIGHTS, sweeping the land and burning it CLEAN of the scourge that plagued it. The ignorant and objectionable, from nuisances such as Shiros and Bozzinis, to the truly NOXIOUS elements of Hardkore World, namely Syb. But Adrian, much to your chagrin, once we cut the HEAD off of the Snake, and sent HIM straight to hell in a pile of ashes, the lesser elements FLED, and all that was left for us to CLEANSE were the shades of Grey. Not necessarily objectionable, but nothing you want to have to DEAL with. You’re a denzien of that GREY area, Adrian. And since you’re currently all that’s LEFT to stand in the way of true societal PROGRESS, well, you’ll just have to DO. We are months away from the birth of MY child that will ALTER the course of History and turn this toilet earth, ravaged by religious wars and crippling apathy, into a perfect UTOPIA, and I’ll be fucked SIDEWAYS if I’m going to let YOU play a stake in this grand cosmic PROPHECY, Aido. You’re JUST going have to be taken OUT of our WAY. And I FINALLY have the proper setting to FACILITATE that continuation of DESTINY.”

(The smile. The sneer. The slightly cocked head. We’re cleared for landing)

X (in a rough whisper): “In short, Adrian…You’ve BOUGHT the ticket…now it’s time to take the RIDE.”

(Suddenly, the glove it lit aflame, and shoved grandly into the lens of the camera. Prepare for impact)

X: “And Adrian, to quote a REAL American Hero…God’s Mercy on you Swine…because the CLEANSING has none to spare. See you in Cleveland.”

(Thank you for Flying Air Cleansing. Have a Pleasant Day.)

Matt Sanders is just standing in front of a brick wall somewherer, drinking a beer. He takes a big gulp before he starts talking to the hacks that aren't worth his time.

Sanders: So my Helloween battle royal got shifted around a bit, but nothing's really changed. JoJo Sushi is still a no-show, probably because he's too busy focusing on whatever his next gay porn film is. The two fucktards from the House of Queer are still making absolutely no srnse, and more than likely they're too busy making out with one another to really be of any worry to me. Emo boy is still acting like the world is supposed to give a rat's ass about him. Antonio Costa continues to act like Matt Sanders lite. And Cecil Kennedy is still hanging out with a retarded tub of lard.

Matt shakes his head.

Sanders: So why am I standing here shooting a promo then if I really don't need to, since my Helloween victory has already been sealed? Simple. These fans needed to see how a real wrestler shoots a promo after being bombarded with all the shit they've just had to see. I mean, nobody cares about the women since the only purpose they deserve is to get down on their hands and knees and start to suck, especially the homeless chick that now seems to be joining everybody's favorite gay tag team in neXt. The bullshit superhero subjected us all to even more shit that hasn't a damn thing to do with his match and further showing how pathetic he really is, thinking he's a big hero straight out of a comic book. He heard from the Hardkore World Retard Committee when Pat and Rupptard opened their mouths to bore us all to death. And apparently that committee welcdomed a new member with that God-awful promo that the Rain Man shot. And yes, I'm referring to you, Triple B. Feel honored that I gave you a namedrop. Then we had a newb, a roided-up army guy who probably is in league with the Shiros since he looks like one, a fucking clown, the guy who thinks anybody cares that he's still alive, and then the king fuckoff himself: Matthew X. And by the way X, I'd watch what you say to your God if I were you. I'd dance circles around you before you ever got close to landing a shot, so the reality of the matter is that YOUR not in MY league. Ever hear of letting the old timers step down so the new breed can have their turn, bitch? That's where I come in you replace YOU. That's when The Cleansing is exposed for how pathetic it really is when you wrestle REAL talent instead of hacks like Tanner and Marty Donovan and their bullshit doesn't work against a God.

Matt smirks, knowing that it's only a matter of time before he takes his rightful spot atop Hardkore World.

Sanders: By the way Marty, might as well see how you were doing after you thought it'd be fun to call me Raggeddy Andy last month. I applaud you for getting past a retard in your defense, but really... anybody could've done that. The fact that it took you over 20 minutes to do it is fucking pathetic. I'd have whipped his ass in five seconds. All you need to do is give him a ball of yarn and watch him get himself tangled up in it, then make the cover. Of course, someone as unintelligent as you wouldn't realize that. It took me half that time to humor the third wheel in the Saints that need to be Exiled before I finished the job. If I wanted to, I could easily walk in and take that belt of yours in no time flat. But since I only care about the top title, you're off the hook for the time being.

Matt just nods.

Sanders: Guys, I really don't have anything to say to you. I'm talking about my Helloween opponents right now, of course. You've given me no reason to be afraid of losing to any of you. I'm going to walk in there, kick all your asses with no trouble at all, and move one step closer to my rightful place in the main event, and there's not a damn thing any of you are going to stop me. Know why? It's so simple a two-year-old could understand it. I'm simply Better Than You.

Fade out.

Randy Candy just saw Matt Sanders promo.

RC: Matt o little boy you are thinking you can walk here in the promotion and win.
I think you better worry if a guy like Psychotic Goth don,t eat you alive he is hungry he want some fresh meat.
Don,t be worried Jojo Sushi or Harvey van Houten don,t want your sorry ass,they want a challenge not a little dog on a leash.
You think you are all of that boy I don,t think so and that,s a fact!

Harvey: I have to say that Randy is right your bark is lower then your bite sweetie.
I know something you don,t know and that,s that you better were protecting downstairs when Jojo Sushi is in the neighbourhood!
You were telling that Randy and I would have sex with each other sweetie that,s not true.
My husband would be out of himself when find out I screw another guy then him!

Both Playbox Inc wrestlers leave the room separete.

Fade away.
(Of-character I ain,t gay but Harvey is yes has to put him over as a queen)

[PREVIOUSLY, ON HARDKORE WORLD!]

X: “Adrian, I took a LOT of fucking flack for the perception that in Ireland, I wasn’t giving either you OR this match the credit people seemed to THINK it all deserved. And while it wasn’t at all PERSONAL, I think I’m entirely justified in my actions. And why the fuck WOULDN’T I be? This was a Ridiculous, INCONVENIENT match made entirely on a GRUDGE by Kilroy, specifically designed to DEPRIVE me of the things that not only that I do best, but the things that everyone INVOLVED with Hardkore World, whether they admit it or not, GET OFF on seeing me do."

[CURRENTLY, ON HARDKORE WORLD!]

Kilroy: Well if Matthew X could take a goddamn elbow like a MAN, then I wouldn't have gained control of the Hardkore World book and been tempted to strip away all of his little toys for my amusement. Matthew X creates his own problems and then fails to look both ways when crossing Clue Street to avoid getting smacked head on by the Logic Bus.

[Kilroy smacks his fist into his open palm.]

Kilroy: Pow! Bwahaha!

[Kilroy is sitting at a table...in a bar of all places. Odd, mostly in that Kilroy is not a drinker. Of alcohol, at least. He's wearing jeans, sneakers, and a custom t-shirt of a cartoon Kilroy, with upraised elbow, chasing a cartoon Matthew X complete with "MATTHEW X FEARS THE ELBOW!" caption. Kilroy points to the shirt, smiling.]

Kilroy: True story. And that is why I'm so happy to have Cyrus Williams back. See, Cyrus? See what I have to work with?! I know X is kind of a big deal or something, but that gas masked doofus is being a giant douche. And the one thing Hardkore World is currently overstocked on is giant douches. Spelled S-H-I-R-O. I mean, you know you're a horrible person when you manage to make Pat Bozzini look like the better man. Anyway, let me catch you up on things. The world champ is a mega douche who pals around with a murderous wanker and Girl Hitler.

[Kilroy, in a motion remniscient of Winnie The Pooh, appears to think hard. He seems to actually mumble "think, think, think!" out loud for good measure.]

Kilroy: Drew totally won the World Title! It was pretty sweet. I did too...for like a week. Actually, I think I dreamed that. Oh, Jones is a serial killer. I'm not sure how, but despite this he's free. Damn British socialized health care. Or something.

[Kilroy puts his head in his hand and looks on, thoughtfully. He looks back at the camera and moves to speak. Then he goes back to thinking. Finally, he has something.]

Kilroy: I got hit with a boat oar wrapped in barbwire. That's pretty much it.

[Kilroy shakes his head to clear it as a waitress drops off two beers to the table.]

Kilroy: Anyway, that doesn't matter, because at Hardkore Helloween it's all about the return of Cyrus Williams! The best is yet to be, my friend, so let's go make history. No diving into stage lights, though. That'd totally be biting my style. I feel like my life's been missing a good Black Out, so please feel free to help a brother out.

[Kilroy looks over just in time to see a stage light get wheeled over to the table and set down.]

Kilroy: Alright, I convene this beer summit so we can talk this out. I know you were being manipulated by that second rate, gas masked artist guy. Hopefully we can get past that and really start over. I mean, I've got a friend coming back who I'd love to drop into you sometime.

[The shot fades out.]

Kilroy: *voice over* I wonder if he'll bring that snazzy white suit...

[End.]

The camera fades in to see one half of the HKW America tag team champions standing in front of the banner. Near the banner is a table with a glass case on as well as the tag team titles, one on each side of the glass container. The camera zooms in to show a cell phone with a picture inside the glass. A clean cut and clean shaven Eric McNeely is shown dressed in a white business suit, black silk shirt and grey silk tie with gold cufflinks. A look of somber discontent is shown on his face as he stares at the glass container shaking his head.

Eric McNeely: Another night…..another day gone by and all for what? A decade of resentments, a decade of poor choices and a decade of self destruction. I’ve had it, the game, the betrayals, the lessons never learned, but most importantly, I’ve had it with everyone running my career. Oh sure………you blame me. You call me short fused, temperamental, you call me drunk, you call me doped up, but point the finger back at yourselves, because it’s each and every one of you that made me this way. Think about it for just one moment. But before we get to why this is your Armageddon, allow me to go back further.

Ten years ago, a family of sorts, a bond was formed so strong, so special that the only thing that could rip it apart and drive a wedge were egos, egos so great that we all self destructed in one way or the other . The Brotherhood………..such a special bond. There was Dominic, the king of kings. There was DarkRHC, one sick ass individual, there was the edge, there was the Darkice, bloodcat, the list goes on. A connection so strong that anyone who dare cross us paid the price. You never lasted long in our presence.

Call us the brat pack, call us a den of thieves, but you had to call us loyal. Loyal to each other, loyal to our cause in life and damned the fool that crossed us. Angels we weren’t , and saints we could never be. As a collected unit we accepted who we were and felt comfortable in our own skin. All one had to do was flash a look and we were there for each other. Hell some of us could read minds and in a heartbeat we were there for the other.

We’d been through it all in life as a group. Rehab, suicidal tendencies, shattered relationships, drug and alcohol abuse, seperation of families, but through it all, WE WERE THERE FOR EACH OTHER! But egos…….egos got in the way……everyone soon felt they knew better than the other and we went our own way. But …….before the final goodbye a gift was given……….and should I ever need it, should I ever feel that I was at rock bottom, this gift was to be used …………and for the last 8 years I’ve neglected it ……..like a skeleton in the closet, like a deep dark secret, a surpressed memory I hid it……..and suddenly it arrived before my very eyes the other night. I told myself again and again......I WOULD NEVER ....I WILL NEVER ....I CAN'T ..........I JUST CAN'T USE THIS ........

McNeely slowly walks around the table and looks at the glass case as we see a fist form, the thought of breaking the glass case and shattering it crosses his mind but he walks away, almost with a look of fear on his face.

Eric McNeely: So I ventured out, I made my career my own………yet I didn’t. I arrived to a company filled with young talent, talent that I knew from day one would become superstars. A young kilroy evans, robert hunglestein, Adrian tanner, Andrew karnage, myself, a core group of young talent that was hungry, that wanted it all. You had the KGB, you had the Society, you had James Fierce breaking into the business. I’ll continue on in a bit.

So the world thought it would be great, dress me up as Messiah and run around a wild nutcase, and I did as asked by the company because they signed the paycheck. Dressed like a fool I did what I was told. But ownership wasn’t satisfied. Shave your head and become a gothic freak of nature. We’ll give you the gimmick of Pagan. A psychotic gothic freak with no regard for his own life. Fun times? No ………again I was forced to be someone else ………something else I wasn’t happy with. I NEVER was allowed to be myself!!

But one man……..a friend……..saw through the pain, saw my suffering and that man became a brother, and he saved me from myself. Christian Sebastian Kennedy was born …….FINALLY I was allowed to be MYSELF! The two man power trip was born, domination, control, we had it all. Company after company, I won the titles, I had it all. I NEVER LOST TITLES! Hell we retired chumps, we ended careers, we ran talent away scared crying to their momma. Take a look around. Ryan Kilmer, we sent him packing to never be seen from again. The high flying Greg Daniels, we injured him so badly he was never the same and hung up his boots. Andrew Sinclair? A fine young prospect who ran off scared when he realized we were too much for him. Hell, I even took a sledgehammer to the back of Stan Wilson and knocked that idiot so stupid he landed in a coma and woke up a new man with a new name. Rick Owen? Ran him off to the save souls in the desssert because he was afraid to face his protégé, yes it’s true. The best days of my career were when I was allowed to be myself.

McNeely slowly spins around and stares at the letters HKW on the banner. Silence is golden and several minutes go by as he stares at the banner and removes his white suit jacket and places it on the table near one of the titles.

Eric McNeely: And then the chance of a lifetime. The place that every young man grows up and dreams of being part of……H….K….W

A place that you had to work your ass off to be part of. A place that when you were offered a contract you knew you were part of something special, you knew that you had talent, and you knew that you were respected. Legends, superstars like Rated X, Rally Jackson, Cyrus Williams, Cobryn, the Society of the New Breed, hell even Bobby Nowa. If you were asked to be part of HKW you knew you had something in you………but those days are gone. They are so far gone.

You have Dutch Express, your Caitlin Fairchilds, hell eight years ago this company wouldn’t have even given a look at Platinum Pat and his fifty interviews a week They’d have showed him the door before he could figure out how to turn the knob, something he’s rather good at nowadays.

I look around here and see the younger faces, the newer names showing no respect …..absolutely no respect to the legends that made this company, no respect to those who gave you a place to have a great career. And then everyone whines and cries why Matthew X and Lucifer Jones are out killing people and leaving dead dog heads in your bed at night and leaving you for dead.

Because they see what I do. They see the lack of respect around here and they’re doing something about it. Well that’s what I did last month. I got rid of the dead weight, I left Dave a message and for dead almost, but that wasn’t enough. You see this month I have a chance to capture the WORLD tag team titles and yes I’ve had some serious thinking to do.

Pat injured Bobby Nowa months ago and let’s face it he’s not been the same. Dropped his titles and looked very sluggish in our title win. But he’s a future legend, he’s one of the main stays throughout the years that helped shape this company up into what it is. But something’s been missing and I finally figured it out.

Eric walks over towards the table and grabs both titles and drapes them over his shoulder while a look of anger crosses his face. The fists are clinched as he knocks over a few chairs that are in his way and rips off the tie from around his neck and throws it on the ground.

Eric McNeely: Let us all get one thing straight here and now. Win, Lose, Draw, whatever shall happen at Helloween,, I BURY the life and times of Eric McNeely. For years everyone tried to control me. Do the hang em high tour kid you’ll be a star. Run the seven deadly sins Eric, that’s great. I am sick and tired of traveling the world and working for second rate pieces of shit who want to control my life, my career and my gimmick because they weren’t good enough to be a superstar anywhere else in the world.

I am taking back MY LIFE, MY CAREER and damn anyone who stands in the way of that. You’re all done renting space in my head and running my life. You see there’s a reason why guys like Cobryn were successful. There’s a reason why guys like Lucifer Jones rip your balls out of you inside first and out your ass and leave you bleeding like a virgin on her prom night in the backseat of her fathers buick. There’s a reason Matthew X manipulates your simple minds and has you pissed off.

THEY TAKE WHAT THEY WANT …………..WHEN THEY WANT!

Ít’s the age old saying, you have it I want ……….I have it ………..I want more.

AND I WANT MORE!! My career here in HKW has been lackluster and about as impressive as Pat running his mouth about some fucked up porno tape of him and his cocker spaniel that nobody cares about. Two West Coast title runs, big deal. I didn’t beat one guy who had any talent, and the other guy was banged up when I took his title. So I’m one half of the America tag team champions. Big deal. I SINGLE HANDEDLY beat two fags and a mop to win it all. No, even I’m not impressed with what I’ve done here over the years.

It’s time that Christian………….Sebastian………….Kennedy came back! Mark my words, for ONE last match Eric McNeely will go out there as one of the Saints of Exile……….he’ll wow the crowds, he’ll carry the team, but when the match is over……….whatever the outcome……….that’s it.

I can no longer walk around being some second string hand made puppet that corporate America wants me to be. Ask around, Kilroy Evans………Robert Hunglestein …….they know the name ………they know what I’m capable of. I’m sick and tired of living everyone elses gimmick and doing things their way. I’m taking back my career. Fine me, suspend me, fuck off! The name of the marquee for now on will read CSK and that’s all there is to it.

I sat back long enough………and thanks to a good friend who pissed me off …….he made me realize that I had the career in the palm of my hands the whole time. And just like Stan Wilson used tot always drop the soap, I dropped the ball on this one …….and it stops.

Eric holds up both titles in the air and lowers them down to his chest and shakes them violently.

Eric: THESE ARE MY TITLES! Nowa is a champion as well and sadly he’s a bit banged up, but thte fact is I am one half of your tag team champions and god damn it don’t ever fucking forget it! MANY have held these titles before me, and to those WORHT PAYING HONOR TO …I will defend these titles in your name with respect and dignity. And damn the fool who tries to take them away.

A shattering sound is heard as the glass shatters and the cell phone rings. The titles drop to the ground as Eric slowly backs away from the phone. Almost as if a gust of wind enters the room, the picture is blown off the table and lands at the feet of Christian. He lowers down to pick up the picture and stares at it. A picture of five people, one of whom is him……a look of shock crosses his face as the phone continues to ring. Christian makes his way over towards the table and sets the picture down while answering the phone. A voice is heard on the other end before he can speak.

It’s time Christian……………it’s time to come back home………

[Fades next to Hardkore All Asia Pro Reporter Senzo Tenaka standing next to All Asia Pro President Ken Shiro in front of a Dark Legacy backdrop.]

Senzo Tenaka – President Ken Shiro-san…great show so far…we’ve just crowned a new All Asia Pro Intercontinental Champion in Manwel.

Ken Shiro – A well earned victory for the gentleman known as Manwel…both him and Merwes delivered a stellar match tonight, but in the end as you can see only the best can walk out champion…and that is what All Asia Pro produces…the best action in professional wrestling world wide…period.

Senzo Tenaka – Do you have any personal predictions for the remain matches to come?

Ken Shiro – No…but I will say the two matches I am interested to see are Dragonatrix versus Shiori Shinzaki a very heated rivalry that will produce in my opinion a five star match in the women’s division that none have seen before in a long time. And then the main event the infamous Nightmare match…one of the most violent and sadistic matches ever invented for this century…I believe this match will make both Devastation and Dragon Belt legendary right here in not just All Asia Pro…but Hardkore World and the world of wrestling all over no matter who walks out the champion tonight.

Senzo Tenaka – At the expense of both men’s health and careers?

Ken Shiro – (Smiles) Well…you can’t make a cake without breaking a few eggs.

Senzo Tenaka – After Dark Legacy you head back to the states to defend the Hardkore World Six Men World Tag Championship belts with your fellow Untouchable stablemates against the Highlights of Humanity who you’ve recently broke off with in brutal fashion. Pat Bozzini has relayed in one of his promos that you are intimidated by him…how do you respond to that accusation.

Ken Shiro – (Chuckles) Laughing…how else? Intimidate Pat? By you? Really? Come now Bozzini I thought we were bigger men than that to resort to base methods …well at least I am…I know fully well that I don’t intimidate you…and if you can’t comprehend it by now allow me to flat out tell you…you don’t intimidate me either.

This is not about intimidation…

This is about you, who was once a great force to be reckoned with in this promotion…a highly decorated champion to be respected now becoming nothing more that a cancer on this great sport…a cyst if you will…and it is high time that you are cut out and removed.

You…who has become more talk then action except for your own career yet wants to pretend as if he’s the leader of a stable, however doesn’t lift a finger to actually prove why he is worth of that title of leadership.

You…who flaunts his many accolades demanding the respect of a World Class wrestler yet resorts to stealing championship belts because he just doesn’t have the IT factor to win the big one right here in Hardkore World.

You who wants to critique the company I keep while he hangs out with brainless…as you put it… “automatons” such as The Angry Video Game Nerd, Useless Ugh, Dieter K. Vain, and of course…the perverted simpleton from your gene pool… your bastard Mongoloid for a brother…John Bozzini.

Now who hangs around a bunch of morons and mental midgets just to make himself seem smarter hmmm?

Raoh maybe a baseless and crass bastard at times…but I would put his stellar career against that of your eldest brother any given day or time…

Aaron Rupp is the future of Hardkore World…I’d stake MY career on that claim on any given day or time…a diamond in the ruff with the burning desire to be honed…and hone him I shall into a razor that will cut through the heart of Hardkore World like a knife through butter…

And as for the man known as Devastation…a man whose power and strength rivals that of my eldest brother…let’s just say that the only thing that has kept his career from soaring to the heights it should have soared was his unwavering dedication and duty to his country which he served proudly…with that behind him I have no doubt that same dedication and duty will make him the most dangerous man Hardkore World has ever known…and that is not putting my predication on tonight’s match…that is just a fact.

The Untouchables are not about a specific individual…we are a unit focused on one thing…bringing order to Hardkore World…by bringing it to its knees…

Rest assure Bozzini…at Hardkore Helloween 2009 a very painful realization will befall you when you are once again met with utter humiliating defeat…

One…you days here in Hardkore World…are truly over…

Two…I brought more soldiers to the fight then you did…figuratively…and literally…

[Shiro smiles as he walks off to see about other business as Tenaka turns to the cameras.]

Senzo Tenaka – Senzo Tenaka senior reporter from Hardkore All Asia Pro returning you to ringside for more action.

[Fade out.]

Matt Sanders: If that worthless failure really WAS the future of this company Ken, your career would be over right now and this company would be down the shitter faster than it would if Pat Bozzini ever did anything useful for this fed.

Fade to Abe Rogers standing in front of a simple American Flag backdrop with an instrumental of the American National Anthem playing in the background, he’s sporting a black sleeveless version of the new Hardkore World Abe Rogers T-shirts with red, white, and blue lettering which reads…MADE IN THE U.S.A….TO DESTROY SHIT…
He waits for the background music to be lowered a bit before he begins to speak.

Abe Rogers – This just in…Abe Rogers is an ugly son of a bitch…

Let’s that statement sit for a minute…

Abe Rogers – Colonel Sir…how ugly would you say I am?

Colonel Joe Mackenzie walks into the shot…looks him up and down…

Colonel Joe Mackenzie – You so damn ugly…God gave you a free pass to Heaven for what he did to you…

Abe Rogers – Thank you sir…

Colonel Joe Mackenzie – Anytime…

Colonel Joe Mackenzie walks out of the shot…

Abe Rogers – That man has been calling me ugly since boot camp…it came to the point where I SWORE my name was ugly…almost had to get my dog tags redone…so thank you to our current World Heavyweight Champ and a little bullet for stating the obvious…

Dear lord…I thought you people were more creative then this…

Especially you Bullet…I can understand the champ…he sees me as a nobody as of now and can afford to spew random bullvine defecation from his mouth…you on the other hand whose apparently got nothing to lose and is putting it all on the line can only come up with how fugly I look?!

Well if this was a beauty contest you’d have won hands down son…hell…you give that pretty wife of yours a run for her money…throw some rouge on ya, some lip stick, black dress and some heels and you’d be the belle of the ball.

Unfortunately for you…this ain’t a beauty contest…this is a wrestling match…a barb-wired match with falls count anywhere…you know who wins matches like those…BUTTASS UGLY SONS OF BITCHES LIKE ME…

Now let me ask you son…you seemed a bit pissed off in your last promo…I wonder why? Maybe it’s because I pulled your skirt and showed the world that you should be wearing a clit ring as opposed to a cock ring? Could that be it?

Hell son…no one’s stopping you from outing me…wait…wait…damn…my senile old ass just remembered…my BWI record doesn’t mean jack shit to you…or anyone else here in Hardkore World…I’m back at ZERO correct?

Well son…then you and everyone else here has got an even bigger problem…because when I was a ZERO…I started the biggest win streak NEVER to be broken in the BWI and I’m fixing to do it again at Hardkore Helloween.

I am that man known for not staying in the back of the bus when he’s told ...so excuse me while I’m kicking you and whose ever else’s teeth in who gets in my way in that night I don’t hear when you scream out, “But you’re suppose to be a ZERO!! A ZERO!!” It is known to be a major malfunction with me after I left the Core…NO ONE save for God himself and my wife tells me what I should do…and who I should be. Especially a little snot nosed punk without a pot to piss in or a window to throw it through.

So you go ahead and try to distinguish the difference between the BWI and Hardkore World…

Because all I see is a ring…and another set a victims to add to my Body Count.

And as far as the clown goes…what can I say son…it’s you right not to care what I did in the military…that’s what I and countless others fought for…along with your right to dress up like a dead whore.

What I find funny about you is how you throw around the words “sick”, “twisted” and “sadistic” as if you’re the only one capable of these terms…

You ever watch a man die son?

You ever kill a man? Stood there while the life left his body?

You ever carry a man over your shoulder with his guts spilling out and his blood pouring over you as you pray he doesn’t die on you that day?

Have you EVER picked up the body parts of a dead man off the battlefield so that there was SOMETHING to ship home to his family?

Then you my friend…don’t know JACK SHIT what those words truly mean…

“Trying to entertain you”…DO I LOOK LIKE I’M HERE TO ENTERTAIN YOU BOY?!

Rhetorical friggin question!

So allow me to end with this…

I’m not here to try and win anyone’s respect…

I could give a rat’s ass if you like me…

And unless you’re coming to my house with a pound of C4 to blow me up within that sum bitch or locked and loaded to shoot me dead on my porch as I walk out…you might as well all save your breathes…

You can not verbally intimidate a man who has walked through hell…it does not work…

Whether you like it or not…Abe Rogers…is coming to Hardkore World…

And those that stand in my way during the time of reckoning….

WILL BE DEALT WITH…

Fade out.

Rp #4 for Hardkore Helloween 2009: Illusions of Invincibility Part 1


Arching their backs against the comfortable leather sofa, the inimitable, insuperable and ultimately unbeatable Platinum Pat Bozzini is playing a certain mysterious yet familiar-looking video game. Besides him, Dieter K. Vaine and the immortal Hulk Hogan are downing shots of Jack Daniels. Surprisingly, Ugh does not appear to be anywhere near the game room.

Hulk Hogan: DXBuggie619, you crossed the line, DUDE! I saw your myspace blog, BROTHER! You said and I quote “Hulk Hogan buried so many talent head-first in the sand in his heyday that they ought to create a monument in their honor.”, brother! HOW DARE YOU? And to say that I was about to let you win this verbal match….by DQ! I’M ALL ABOUT PUTTING PEOPLE OVER, BROTHER! GO ASK BRIAN KNOBBS, BRUTUS BEEFCAKE, THE YET-AY! WHEN GOLDBERG SPEARED ME BROTHER, I COULD FEEL MY SPLEEN BEING SPLATTERED DOWN MY INTESTINES BROTHER…I THINK MY INSIDES IMPLODED ALL AT ONCE JUST AS I DEFECATED IN MY TIGHTS BROTHER! YEP, TRUE STORY….BUT THIS ICON GOT BACK ON HIS HORSE AND CONTINUED TO RULE WCW WITH AN IRON FIST THE VERY NEXT WEEK BROTHER WHILE YOU’D BE CRYING LIKE A PETULANT LITTLE BABY AFTER KNOCKING YOUR PINKY FINGER AGAINST YOUR BEDROOM DOOR. Well, guess what, BRA! The Legion To End Hulkamania IS ON AGAIN AND I WILL TEAM UP WITH MY GOOD FRIEND PLATINUM PAT BOZZINI, BROTHER- A FELLOW HULKAMANIAC AND THE FOUNDER OF PATAMANIA BROTHER- AND WRESTLE IN THE SECOND EVER ULTIMATE DOOMSDAY MATCH BROTHER…TWO COMBINED LEGDROPS WILL SHATTER THE CAGE BROTHAS SO WHAT YOU GONNA DO WHEN THE HULKSTER AND THE PLATINUM ONE STEP OUT FROM UNDER THAT COMPUTER SCREEN, HIT YOU OVER YOUR FAT FOREHEADS WITH YOUR COMPUTER KEYBOARDS AND RUN WILD ALL OVER Y….

Platinum: Hulk, what did I say about using my name in vain to throw out meaningless challenges?

Hulk Hogan: Sorry brother, but the guy just has me so gosh darn MAD, brudda. We need to spraypaint his back with three Hs…

Platinum: No, Hulk.

Hulk Hogan: How about nWo…in platinum and black brother?

Platinum: I said no, Hulk.

Hulk Hogan: …PPB?

Platinum: Damn it Hulk! What part of “Stick that silly plan up your incredibly stubborn ass?” don’t you understand?

Hulk Hogan: Sorry dude. What’s that game you’re playing, brother?

Suddenly, two words leap unto the screen: “Untouchable Dragon 3: The Sacred Beads”. Soon after those words are displayed, Platinum presses the button “Start”.

Dieter K. Vaine: What is that? Didn’t know that you could choose your character.

From the character select screen, it shows four different characters with different attributes.
“The Mice Master” Aaron Rupp: Strength 2/10, Intelligence: 0.5/10, Stamina: 1/10, Speed: 6/10, Awkwardness: 12/10, Special: Animalistic Crying

“The Douche Pi-Rat” Raoh Shiro: Strength: 7/10, Intelligence: -102/10, Stamina: Please don’t yell at me/10, Speed: 1/10, Incoherence: 76/10 (redefines stupidity on a daily basis), Special: The Mule Boot-y

“The Steroids Injector” Devastation. Strength: 6/10, Intelligence: 2/10, Stamina: 3/10, Speed: 1.5/10, Blood Circulation to the Brain: -0.5/10, Special: Have You Seen My Awesome…Oh Wait It’s Gone!

“ The Radish Dragon” Ken Shiro: Strength: 5.5/10, Intelligence: 4/10, Stamina: 6/10, Speed: 5.5/10, Cowardice: -77689/10, Special: Red Dragon Buster Boot ONLY AFTER the enemy has been viciously attacked by at least 38 other guys

Platinum: Huh! I did not know that Devastation had a single relevant attribute. Apart from polishing my belts and my trophies with his blood. Meanwhile, Scott Steiner is infinitely more coherent and literate than Abobo Shiro: he had a college education. The only education Raoh graduated from was when their father had to smack his jaw several times after taking a sniff of Yuku’s panties while she was talking to her friends on the phone.

Hulk Hogan: I can’t believe this, brother! This big stinky, scummy giant they called Oreo Shiro, brother is still bragging about something that he can’t even do, brother. This man sure can’t cut the mustard any better than good ol’ Syxx, brother. For the right price dude, I’d pick his 1100 pounds body and SLAM HIM back-first to the mat, brother. But not before raking his back viciously…don’t worry, I got my nails done. As far as that Damon Mupp brother, that scrawny, skinny wooden stick can talk the talk but when the going gets tough, his fragile bones are easier to break than a twig man because he lacks all the necessary physical make-up for a backbone, brudda! Devastation reminds me of an Ultimate Warrior wannabe….a poor man’s Renegade minus the charisma. As far as Ken Shiro is concerned, he likes to drink, to gain some unearned cash, to sleep with pre-pubescent children and to profit of the exploits of others but so did my bitch of an ex-wife! The Unbearables can’t even get their facts for a minute there. You should whip them like a dog, Platinum…..YAPPAPI-style!

Completely ignoring what the Immortal One had just said, Platinum decides to stick to take Aaron Rupp’s character. Suddenly, several frames appear on the screen to explain the storyline of the video game: “One day, Kelly, Baron, Devastatio and Raoh Shiro went to the gym, training their over-oiled bodies and grunting in the face of adversity. After a brutal gangbang, their mutual life partner in long-lost distant cousin- young, dumb and a face filled with cum- Yoshihiro Shiro gets kidnapped by very bad men, in which three of them hold sacred beads. Meanwhile, a very old man approaches Undouchables, smells the air…immediately catches a STD from Raoh Shiro and crumbles to the ground- dead. ANOTHER old man arrives on the scene, ambling on cane and throwing his dentures floor. After a brutal orgy with all of them, he offers his services to help them on their quest. The first bead is to be found Wyoming, USA.” Then, the game loads for about 25 seconds.

Dieter K. Vaine: Hmmm…seems like Tum Tum was the translator for this game.

Platinum: This should be interesting to see whether “Mr. Socially And Cognitively Impaired” Aaron Rupp will utilize his condition as an excuse to suck in this game like he does in Hardkore World.

When the game finally loads, the character is located inside a dilapidated dojo where a bound and gagged prisoner lies on the wooden floor. Immediately as the game bigns, three biker thugs approaches “Rupp”, who responds with very slow and awkward vertical punches. This prompts the biker gang to simply slap him, which causes Rupp to lose 33% of his energy life bar. A sidekick and a back rake later, “Aaron Rupp”'s torso is completely TORN APART, leading to his eventual, worthless death.

Platinum: Well, it seems as if you owe me seven hundred dollars again, Dieter.

Dieter K. Vaine: Damn. I thought that this game would amplify skills, like how they tried to flaunt Shawn Styles’ supposed greatness while every intelligent person on this planet and their brother knew that you carried his mediocre ass every step of the way.

Platinum: BWAHAHAHAHA! I think he couldn’t even beat the Microshocker on his own, well, without politicking his way to victory that is. You know what? It is time to try using Abobo Shiro now.

As Platinum picks “Raoh Shiro”. A secret panther leaps out from the screen and yells “TOASTY!” Immediately afterwards, there is a picture of the late corpse of Tila “Tequila” Nguyen that appears on the screen, filled with the vomit of one suicidal James Fierce…now promoting his “cutter” gimmick. Finally, we see Abobo Shiro running wild and free like the genetic fucktard he is, punching at the walls until the brick walls CRUMBLE AND EVERY BRICK FALL DOWN ON HIM, PUMMELLING HIM INTO A BLOODY PUDDLE!

Hulk Hogan: Well, you know what brother? Raoh Shiro can’t handle the pressure, man. He can’t handle the big load that comes off being a somebody in this world, DUDE. Which reminds me, have you seen my Bengay can?

Platinum: …..

Dieter K. Vaine: …..

Platinum: …..

Dieter K. Vaine: …..

Platinum: …I wonder what Ugh is up to.

A brief cutaway scene demonstrates that Ugh is sleeping on the couch of the living room. Without realizing it, he is attacking an easily manipulated “Aaron Rupp” with Saturnian cartwheel kicks and elbow smashes. Meanwhile, “Raoh Shiro” has pulled down his very tight tights as well as “Devastation”‘s and proceed to…how do I put it….infiltrate his “house” from the “back door”.

“Raoh Shiro”: AWh hell yeah, Dev! Can’t believe we had to wait that long to finally do it. Man, all those years, I’ve waited to lick your HAIRY ASS with PEANUT BUTTER and watermelon marmalade while tearing you a new one. You ain’t going to be SHITTING straight for a MONTH. Damn man, I never knew that your ass-hole would be so tight.

“Devastation”: Aw yes, YES, Raoh! Fill me with every inch of your gigantic manhood!

“Raoh Shiro”: …I just came.

“Devastation”: but…but I didn’t feel anything. Ah well, good for you. Now, let us rehearse for our live sex celebration for when we finally win those world tag titles.

“Raoh Shiro”: Damn right. Is it okay if I blindfold you with Yuku’s panties that she menstruated all over during her last period?

“Devastation”: You’re a fucking sick man, you know that? Of course, I wouldn’t mind if you did that. Hell, I’d prefer if you were to CHOKE me with it.

“Raoh Shiro”: Let’s prepare for the biggest cumshot in the history of cumshots. Yuk…err…..Devie, here I COME AGAIN!

Eerr…..let’s drastically change the scenery. Oh wait, “Ken Shiro” is left stranded in a dark room surrounded by four lit candles, caressing a jar of what seems to be expired mayonnaise that probably causes people to be enamoured with Twilight….and to cut themselves. Let us go back to Pat, Dieter and Hogan…please!

Platinum: Well, this time, I’m going to try again but with Devastation. Let us see if he is the exception to the rule.

Suddenly, as PPB chooses “Devastation”, huge letters appear on the screen that signal the players that “Devastation” cannot be picked for he already left for his home planet and died on his way back.

Platinum: That was not odd at all.

Hulk Hogan: This makes even less sense that when Randy Savage revived me with a top-rope flying elbow smash…brother!

Dieter K. Vaine: What about the Ultimate Warrior?

Hulk Hogan: Brother, he’s a shared psychosomatic hallucination caused by such a vast mass of steroids and cocaine brother that it created a rift in the space-time continuum. Sorry, I just BM-ed.

As Platinum picks “Ken Shiro”, he notices that the loading time has greatly reduced from the last time. Furthermore, he is relatively capable of defeating the enemies on screen without losing much energy. He notices the tortured victim and decides to bludgeon him into certain death before leaving the room. The enemies then try to corner “Ken”, who replies with a rapid flurry of backhanded fists and double dragon kicks to kill them. Suddenly, he notices a minuscule manhole in the middle of the street and Platinum motions to jump over it. Unfortunately for him, the screen says that due to “Ken” having a sharp metallic pole stuck so far up his anal cavity, he would violently implode if he were to jump. Thus,he tumbles inside the manhole where his putrid flesh is DEVOURED BY LOCAL ALLIGATORS WITHIN THE SEWERS. The “Game Over” screen then appears over a picture of a nude Hardkore Jonnie Valentine, where the letters are placed strategically over Jonnie’s body.

Platinum: That is it. That game has infuriated me beyond the point of no return. I am now very pissed off- more pissed off than I have ever been- and I am loving every instant of it! The Platinum Cerberus will maul, mutilate and deliquesce the Intolerables as I muster every bit of execration, bloodlust and malevolence that trespasses within my hardened soul.

Hulk Hogan: That’s right brother! Preach on. With the unending thirst for wisdom of Platinum Pat Bozzini, the impressive wealth of Dieter K. Vaine, and the power and demandments of Hulkamania, the Untouchables will soon become F.U.K.R.A.A.D. K.R.A.A.D stands for Ken, Raoh, Aaron and Devastation…you figure out the rest, brudda.

Dieter K. Vaine: You have no chance to survive make your time?

To be continued….

Rp #5 for Hardkore Helloween 2009: Illusions of Invincibility Part 2

As the scene fades back in to the trio, Platinum Pat Bozzini immediately grasps the crappy video game cartridge and repeatedly throws it against the nearest door as if it were a mere Frisbee. Hulk Hogan and Dieter K. Vaine appear to be quite startled by this abrupt incident.

Hulk Hogan: Whoa, calm down…dude! This game ain’t worth it, man!

Dieter K. Vaine: Yeah man. Stay sharp, cool and collected.

PPB responds to this request by sneering defiantly- fulminating with a very dark, macabre hatred.

Platinum: No, this is not just about that idiotic game. I have had endured the utmost displeasure of listening to Ken Shiro and Aaron Rupp rambling on about subjects and issues that they do not really comprehend. They keep trying to denigrate me and every fiber of my being in an attempt to infuriate me, to render me so berserk that I would no longer helm my own thoughts or actions yet they seem incapable of properly pushing the right set of buttons. No one’s life experience is entirely egocentric: it is also about the environment that they grew up in, the hands that they were bestowed with, the wild cards that had shattered their world upside down and had them dealing with the unexpected trials and tribulations and the people that played a role in their development. I am not angry by your petty insults nor even the brutal betrayal that unraveled due to your seething rage and jealousy: I am –however- greatly insulted by your dichotomic rationalization of everything surrounding you. You knavish truants believe that everything in my life revolves around you when I have demonstrated time and time again that it is crystal clearly not the case. You think that the only thing in this world that one consider for his judgment of said individual is your own egocentric hierarchy of flawed values and your relationship with said person. This universe is not meant to be seen in a black-or-white manner but with the widest spectrum of colors possible. I am really enraged by this degrading mindset of yours: then again, it explains why you guys could not muster the courage to inform me of your qualms with me face-to-face like REAL men and betrayed me only AFTER my match….and from behind as well.

See, Aaron, I never insulted you because you were cursed with Asperger’s syndrome. Hell, I once labeled you the future of this business. I meant it then and I would still mean it if you had the ardent passion and a great consistency to hone your skills. That is right: all my insults are focused on your unreliability to sharpen your abilities, to push yourself beyond your limits and to continually challenge yourself whether it would be physically or psychologically. You happen to be the most inconsistent, unmotivated player in Hardkore World right now: one day, you are prepared to clash with the big dogs whose serrated teeth could chomp off anybody’s skin off. The very next day, you cannot be bothered to train for an upcoming match against the Rising Sun for the Hardkore America Heavyweight Championship. In that regard, - as a man who wore the Hardkore America Heavyweight Championship for an unprecedented thirteen months and fought, clawed and decimated any adversary that desired to rip that title from my waist- you are damn right that you spat in my face as well as any person who held that title proudly in the past. Whether it was Hardkore World, VWA or anywhere else for that matter, you are only motivated when the circumstances suit you, when the outcome benefits you and when the timing CONVENES you but other than that, you are simply another catatonic drone who is mindlessly trudging through life, hoping that everybody else will do the work for them.

You were the biggest moocher in the history of the Highlights of Humanity. While I held four titles at once- America, Canada, America Tag and 6-Men Tag-, Ken Shiro and Raoh Shiro held the World tag team titles. RDS was the Television Champion and eventually became the Light Heavyweight Champion. Jagi Shiro was the Hardkore Nippon/ All- Star Pro Champion and became the Light Heavyweight Champion later on. Requiem and Legacy were the Hardkore America Tag Team Champions. Gyneco held the GCW Undisputed World Title and their tag belts just as his bout with depression started to infest his mind. Tony Damico won the Hardkore South Heavyweight Championship and the 6-Men tag title on three occasions now. Even John Bozzini comprised one-half of the Hardkore America tag team champions with I and was the perpetual #1 contender for the Hardkore Australia heavyweight championship. What the fuck have you ever done in Hardkore World meriting so much respect and attention, Ruppy? Oh right, you have never done anything worthwhile in your career in this place whereas I am a thirteen-time world heavyweight champion and won many titles in Hardkore World. Let us face it: you have an undeniable mountain of potential but that’s all that is. Potential. Unless you are more than ready to mount that mountain, attain its summit and surpass it, then you are nothing more than a brain-washed machine filled with hot air and nothing else.

Now, you could heed my words and re-discover the true Aaron Rupp but we both know that you will not listen to them for they do not favour convenience and a rapid path to glory. Oh no! I decipher through passionless guys like you every damn day of my life: you refuse to work hard and persevere in the face of adversity. No, you prefer to associate with the right crowd to get ahead or to exploit a certain circumstance to reach the top at the expense of someone much more deserving. Now, I have no doubt that you are suffering from Asperger’s…but you have been exploiting for so long in order to remain in the limelight- to make sure that you would be differentiated from another face within the Highlights of Humanity. You keep harping on how “Platinum Pat Bozzini is such a big meanie, he refuses to give back to the other Highlights such as myself, Raoh, Ken, Devastation and myself” –no, that is not a mistake. Listen to me, you ungrateful bastard- I owed you nothing. I owe you NOTHING. Joining us was the first step and I tried to instill some sort of motivation for you and to assure that you received the best treatments. That is only half of the path, Aaron…the other half could only be done by you. When it came time to demonstrate what you have taught, you failed miserably. You keep harping on how I somehow owe you something for joining when all you have done is squander a golden opportunity- HoH or not- to prosper, to perfect yourself and achieve some modicum of glory. Yet, when have YOU, Aaron Rupp, ever given back to others? All you think about is yourself and have no empathy for anybody BUT yourself unless when it convenes you. You think that you have been dealt with a hard time and stupidly assumed that I was lavished with a fancy life just because of my standing right now. How dare you condescend unto me when you have not faced one-seventh of all the many obstacles that I had to?

I mentioned before that nearly ten years ago, my mother passed away due to a longstanding bout with lung cancer. She was my closest friend, my confidant…the one who understood me the most when the world was not ready to comprehend me, when I could not ready to face such a destructive, hateful world on my own. Meanwhile, my father and I had a tumultuous relationship at best and he allowed himself to be trounced by his own personal demons, which negatively reverberated on my brother and I . Do you know what it was like Aaron to watch your closest friend go through chemotherapy deluding yourself that that particular person was going to get better when she really wasn’t? Do you understand what it feels like to see that she is dying and there is nothing in the world that you can do to halt the disease? Worst of all, do you know what it was like to have the love of my life then Maia Xaiyou soon thereafter dump me over the phone, and to lose two other close friends as well? Even now, Ms. Mai Lee is suffering from uterine cancer and I cannot bear the possibility of losing her- once again, a loved one has been afflicted with a terrible disease but I will be there for her every step of the way, through thick and thin. And that is only what I allow people to know: you would not believe all of the horseshit that I have been bestowed with and that not only I dealt with it, I defeated those obstacles. I beat the odds, knocked down those obstacles and continue going forward in my life- never backwards. To this day, I am cognizant of my own psychological strength, my excellent physical prowess and an unmatched desire to reign supreme but I am also forever grateful for the opportunities that I was given, for the help that I was provided with along the way. In return, I try to help individuals just as much as they helped me. Meanwhile, you bitch and moan about Asperger’s Syndrome but I never saw you helping others that suffer from it or to provide them with motivation and skills to succeed. No Aaron, because it isn’t convenient for you, because it does not mainly benefit you…it benefits them. Your psychological immaturity is exactly why you turned against me and that is why you will always be unfulfilled potential.

As far as Kenny is concerned, he is obsessed with his illusions of a paradisiacal reality where he is a king that musters no flaws, no imperfections and certainly makes no mistake. See, once again, Renny Shiro along with his sidekick in the big, lumpy and incestuous Stompy Raoh Shiro delude themselves into thinking that a sanguine war only concerns the physical aspect. They could not be more wrong than that. War is much more psychological than they could possibly comprehend. I never really hinted that I am physically intimidating but it is those malevolent thoughts that bathe within my conscience that cause people to fear me, that trigger individuals to not infuriate me on purpose. I am the scorching Katana of Unpredictability, Ken: I operate on those little repressed ideas that dwell in the back of your mind that you like to label fears. Little by little, I decipher through your mechanism until all of the cogs in your engine have been demolished and you have become a shell of your former self.

I have studied every tape, every DVD and every match possible of you Kenny: you haven’t done the same for me Ken. I know what you can do: you have not even the slightest smidgen of idea of what I can and will do to you. You can claim what you want but you have opened the one can that should have sealed. All you are doing in the meantime is not intimidating me but trying to convince yourself of the credibility of your threats and to validate yourself in the eyes of others. You may be a stable allied for one purpose only but you lack one element that would catapult you into bigger stars: individual improvement for the sack of the group rather than to rely on the strength of the group to solidify your individual standings. Apart from you Ken, everybody else is content and satisfied with their level of skills and not feeling especially hungry for greater fame and fortune here in Hardkore World. You may call yourself the Untouchables but I damn do not see a persevering, cunning Eliot Ness type amongst you nor do I see a Jimmy Malone who would be willing to die violently for his cause.

Truth is, I will simply bludgeon you over your thick cranium with my custom made attached baseball bats till pieces of your minuscule brains fly into the audience just so they can sell it on eBay. I am very pissed off and liking every moment of it. I will unleash a napalm rain on you four and every other “soldiers” that you intend on bringing to the fight until your decaying flesh has been completely destroyed. I will claw out your vital organs, mince every vein and cartilage in your useless carcasses, I will triturate your every bone and vertebrae as agonizingly as possible, I will splatter cyanide inside your body until it is gnawing at you from the inside. Then, the Platinum Cerberus will simply mutilate and liquidate the remnants of your lifeless cadavers for his own amusement. Boys, you may be ready for this but Tony, Bill and myself….we were born for these wars! You will all be both be liquefying with sulphuric acid and it is then that we will scorch you to mere smithereens. My name is Platinum Pat Bozzini and after this gruesome event, I shall be known as your Eradicator…and then, I’ll meet Matthew X for another shot at MY Hardkore World Heavyweight Title.

Platinum Pat Bozzini then leaves the game room as Hogan and Vaine both look at each other.

Hulk Hogan: Man, Pat is super angry. Last time I saw someone being this angry, I jobbed to Arn Anderson.

Dieter K. Vaine: Do you even hear yourself before talking?

Hulk Hogan: Dude, just because I am the Hulkster, it doesn’t mean that I don’t have feelings. Sniff… you jerk brother!

Suddenly, Hulk Hogan begins to cry uncontrollably and runs away from the room.

Dieter K. Vaine: Hey Hulk! I know you’re sad but if you eat my chicken sandwiches, I am going to get medieval on your red-and-yellow ass!