Wrestler Stats IWF Record: 27-12-1 Alignment: In Between
Subject: Hollywood's Fucking Finest [vs.] Neart le Chéile Wed Jan 30, 2013 9:36 pm
The IWF Tag Team Titles have returned and in a BIG way! At Rising Monarchy, the extremely powerful and world renown group known as Hollywood's Fucking Finest reunited and joined up with The Empire! Not only that, but at Rising Monarchy, Tim Patrick made his impact-full return by aligning himself with former Insurgency Irish Army friend The Irishman Sean Libby! Now, these two teams clash head to head as they wage war looking to earn the right to call themselves the new IWF Tag Team Champions!
Sean Libby
Posts : 244 Join date : 2011-03-08 Age : 30 Location : Framingham
Wrestler Stats IWF Record: 3-4-0 Alignment: In Between
Subject: Re: Hollywood's Fucking Finest [vs.] Neart le Chéile Sun Feb 03, 2013 2:31 am
Sean Libby's Apartment hallway
-The scene opens with Sean walking up the stairs to his apartment with a tapped bandage around his head and carrying a gym bag-
-Sean gets to his door and grabs his keys but can't seem to get the keys into the lock-
Sean Libby: C-Come on now...
-From his view point Sean's eyes are blurry-
-After a few more knocks with the key Sean finally gets into the door and unlocks it and uses his body to push the door to get in the room-
-Sean looks around the room and see's his friend Matt Bell on the couch staring at him-
Matt Bell: Sean... You have alot of explaining to do.
Sean Libby: Oh, Matt...Hows it going...Bro?
-Sean waves to Matt but then falls unconsciously to the floor head first-
-Matt throws his magazine on the table and rushes to Sean-
-He checks Sean's pulse and looks at Sean's bandage-
Matt Bell: God... This doesn't look so good.
-Matt rolls Sean over and grabs his arms-
-Matt begins to drag Sean to his bedroom as the camera goes into Sean's face-
Libby's dreamworld
-The camera seems to be in a dark empty room till a pair of lights turn on and the camera moves to the light-
-The camera goes to the light and it shows a land of green and candy-
-The camera finds Sean laying on the grass looking lifeless till he sits up and shakes his head-
Sean Libby: Meh... What?
-Sean opens his eyes and see's the land and see's a pair of Nyan Cats making a rainbow across the sky as can be heard-
-A Nyan Cat swoops down and gives Sean his favored sunglasses-
-Sean pets the Nyan Cat as it flys away leaving a trail of rainbow as Sean follows-
-Sean skips around the plains and stops and looks at the camera as if its there-
Sean Libby: You know what? Screw the real world. I this place has everything that I ever wanted. Peace, harmony, and fun. I don't that as much as I get in the real world.
-Sean jogs around the world that he is in till he see's what seems to be a gingerbread village-
-Sean goes down to the village and gets in the middle of the village and thrusts himself back and forth to the music-
Sean Libby: Call on me, Crazy Libby. Having the time of my-
-A glass shattering sound is heard and Sean suddenly stops-
-He curiously looks around him and finds nothing as the sound seems like its getting louder or closer-
-The Nyan Cats fly away as Sean looks up at the sun that is the source of the cracking-
-The crack spreads across the sky as Sean looks up in shock as his glasses fall off his face-
Sean Libby: Oh God no... I thought, I was done...With you.
-The sky gets destroyed as fire bursts all around Sean-
-Tac Nayns take over where the Nyan Cat's flown-
-Sean is in shock as a Uprising Championship falls from the sky going to Sean-
"I told you you were a failure."
Sean Libby: Oh God, here we go again.
-The title gets closer to Sean-
"You could do nothing. You were never worthy.
Sean Libby: I beat that Empire punk! I proved that I deserved to be champion! I got the One, the Two, the Three! That proved that I was the champion!
"And yet, you could not defend my honor, or my prestige. You won by a fluke, and now your wrestling career is going to fail."
-The title floats to Sean's face a looks at him face to face as the flames draw closer-
Sean Libby: What a way to die... In a dream world, by a championship.
"You won't die..."
-A sword magically appears at the front of the title ready to stab Sean-
"But maybe it'll drag you to in the real world."
Sean Libby: Whatever... Just... GET ON WITH IT!
-Sean shuts his eyes as the title goes back and goes to stab Sean-
-The titles sword is just barely touching Sean's nose as Sean knows this but the sword does not go threw him-
-Sean opens his left eye a crack and notices the title is still floating but not moving nor is the flames around him-
-He opens both his eyes in shock to see what seems to be a time standstill-
-Sean touches the titles sword and the sword deteriorates as does the title and the world around him slowly deteriorate into blackness-
-Sean stands there as a spotlight shines on him-
-He looks around and see's nothing-
Sean Libby:... Can somebody tell me what is going on around here?
???: I can man.
-Sean swiftly turns around and sees another spotlight with nobody there-
-However a old friend of Sean's walks out of the blackness revealing his longtime friend Malcolm-
Sean Libby: Malcolm....? What are you...
Malcolm Donaldson: I'm here for you man. Like we used to be there for each other when we was kids man. Long time has past, but I still watch you. I don't see you as often as I used to, but I don't care homie, your still my friend.
???:As you are to me.
-Sean turns around and see's another spotlight with coming out of the shadows is another friend of his Martin-
Sean Libby: What, Martin....How?
Martin Cooper: I helped you out when you wanted to be somebody in that fed remember? I helped train you, I prepped you against Vincent Van Rose and look what happened. You kicked his ass, you became somebody Sean. You needed someone to help you, and I know, that what I've taught you, nothing can hold you down Sean.
???: That is a fact.
Sean Libby: I know that voice...
-Sean turns around yet again but beside Malcolm is another light as the person coming out of the blackness is Tim Patrick-
Sean Libby: What is going on Tim...?
Tim Patrick: Whats going on Sean, is whats going wrong with you? I came to see you at the PPV. I knew you could defeat that Empire loser, but not only did you lose your title, but you lost yourself. You are my friend, you are somebody I truly respect. We fought each other, we battle together. Now, I know you can put yourself back together Sean. Strength Together Sean!
???: Neart le Chéile
Sean Libby: No... It can't be him...
-Once again Sean turns around and to his surprise Connor O'Shannon walks out of the blackness-
Sean Libby: Connor...
Connor O'Shannon: The last time I saw you. You gave me a flying legdrop, from the top of a Steel Cage. After that, I never saw you again. You were exactly what I said about you when I brought you here. You were full of promise, you took on everything that was in your way, you were a true Irishman. I'm proud of what you have become Sean. You can't lose yourself. Don't be discouraged because I am not your partner, Tim is well capable of being your partner. You have it in you Sean.
-Sean looks around at his friends and they nod to Connor's words and Sean puts a smirk on his face-
Sean Libby: I do have it in me... I am not going to be haunted by a title thats not even mine! Its time for me to be who I once was. Lets do it.
-Sean looks up to his light and closes his eyes-
Sean's bedroom
-The camera is at Sean's face and shows him sleeping-
-He opens his blue eyes and looks at the camera-
-Then Sean looks around the room and see's a note that says "FIX THIS FUCKING PHONE! - Matt" that is laying on the side table-
-Sean reads the note and grabs the phone does somethings with it-
-After which he grabs a pencil and writes down "I have to see somebody. I probably won't be back till after the show. -Libbeh :3" on the paper-
-Sean gets out of his bed and starts packing some cloths in a travel bag and goes out of his room with the scene fading-
Boston Massachusetts
[i]-The scene re-opens and shows a taxi pulling to a sidewalk-
-The man getting out of the cab is Sean not after paying the driver-
-Sean stands for a moment and looks at the building-
Sean Libby: Yeah, this is the place... This is the place Connor took me.
-Sean walks around the building and forcefully pushes a door that was already slightly open-
-Sean looks around and notices alot of old pictures of the Irish Insurgency Army and Irish Flag posters-
-Sean notices a paper that is on a desk beside a wrestling ring-
-Sean reads the paper that is in Gaelic or old Irish-
Sean Libby: "Tá muid láidir le chéile, le chéile go bhfuil muid láidir. Aontaithe seasamh dúinn, Seas Aontaithe ní mór dúinn. neart le Chéile.
-In English that translates We are strong together, Together we are strong. United we stand, Stand United we must. Strength Together-
Sean Libby: Yes... Strength Together. Me, and Tim... I believe in us... We can do it. My road is not over. I still have alot more to achieve. If I must, I will put to rest these Empire thugs, no matter how tough the challenge is, I will never surrender to them.
-Sean takes the paper and looks at around and nods-
Sean Libby: Thanks Connor.
-Sean walks to the doorway but not before looking at a picture of the IIA posing together in a photo-
-Sean smiles and takes the photo with him-
Sean Libby's Apartment
-Returning to the apartment Matt Bell opens the door and walks into the apartment-
-Looking for his phone he finds it on the kitchen table with Sean's note-
Matt Bell: Well it looks like he finally fixed it-
-Matt touches the screen of his phone and PSY's Gangnam Style video plays on his phone-
Oppan Gangnam Style, Gangnam Style, Op op op op oppan Gangnam Style, Gangnam Style Op op op op oppan Gangnam Style
(end)
Tim Patrick
Posts : 375 Join date : 2011-03-01 Age : 38
Wrestler Stats IWF Record: 0-0-0 Alignment:
Subject: Once upon a time there was....Irish ways and Irish laws Sun Feb 03, 2013 2:50 am
February 1, 2013 10:45 PM Ritner Street South Philadelphia, PA Tim Patrick's apartment ~~The lights are out in the apartment. The only light is coming from a lit cigarette that Tim Patrick is holding. He glares out the window and begins to speak~~
Tim Patrick: It's been a long time coming. I left IWF to try and find myself. I found that, to quote a song, “Whats to be found racing around? You carry your pain wherever you go.” I went back to Belfast to fight after I left in August. Nothing has changed over there. The Brits are still arresting Irish people without trial, and nobody gives a shit. I'm tired of being one of the few who actually cares about injustice in the six counties of Northern Ireland. So until people get their shit together over there and wake up, I'm done with that part of the world.
~~Tim takes a drag from the cigarette~~
Tim Patrick: I have issues. One of my main issues is trust. There is only one man in the world who I personally know that I trust and his name is Sean Libby. When I formed the IIA years ago, we saw something in Sean Libby. He was an unknown newcomer. In this business, some men have it and some men don't. Sean Libby has it. While I spent my time here fighting for blood and glory, Sean has used his mind and has won numerous championships. If I could pick any man to go to war with, it would be Libby. That man is as solid as a rock, and together, we're not going to be stopped.
~~Tim sits back in a chair, opens up a bottle of whiskey and begins to sing, taking a drink between verses~~
Once upon a time there was Irish Ways and Irish Laws Spillages of Irish blood Waking to the morning Waking to the morning
Then the Vikings came around Turned us up and turned us down Started building boats and towns They tried to change our living They tried to change our living
Cromwell and his soldiers came Started centuries of shame But they could not make us turn We are a river flowing We are a river flowing
Again, again the soldiers came Burnt our houses, stole our grain Shot the farmers in their fields Working for a living Working for a living
It's hundreds years we have been down The secret of the water sound Has kept the spirit of a man Above the pain descending Above the pain descending
Today the struggle carries on I wonder, will I live so long To see the gates be opened up To a people and their freedom A people and their freedom
~~The camera fades~~ February 2, 2012 1:00 PM
~~The scene opens with a crowded press room within the Wells Fargo Center. Wrestling media from all over the world along with the local Philadelphia media are holding a press conference the day before Battle Grounds. IWF Media Relations President Johnny McDonald steps up to the podium and begins the conference.~~
Johnny McDonald: Ladies and Gentleman of the press, welcome to Battle Grounds. We have another exciting card tomorrow night. Our Main Event features what is sure to be a top notch fight for the Tag Team Championship between, pardon my language, Hollywood's Fucking Finest against Sean Libby and a returning crowd favorite and Philadelphia native, Tim Patrick. Without further rambling, I would like to bring out “Irish Car Bomb”, Tim Patrick!
~~"Dragonfly" by Shaman's Harvest begins to play over the PA system and Tim Patrick walks through the door and up to the podium with a nice ovation from the reporters in the crowd. He steps up and grabs the microphone~~
Tim Patrick: Thanks guys. I'm glad to be back. I always love performing and fighting in front of the Philadelphia crowd, the best fans in all of sports. Let's get going with the questions.
Reporter 1: Mr. Patrick, what made you want to return to IWF?
Tim Patrick: The rush of 20,000 people screaming for blood. The thrill of kicking somebody in the face just right so that it creates an audible crack that can be heard for miles. Knowing I can relate to each of the fans. It's a place that has always treated me right. The ownership is professional and easy to work for, despite Corey Casey and The Empire's involvement. Here, I can fight for blood and honor legally, and I'm not being chased by the cops like I would be if I was back in Northern Ireland.
Reporter 2: There have been some rumblings by fans and even some of your coworkers that maybe you haven't earned the right to get a title shot on your first match back. That this match was just a money making scam to sell the arena out in your hometown. How do you respond?
Tim Patrick: Bullshit. Everything about that is bullshit. This show would have sold out if I wasn't on the card, if I was in the first match, if I was never born, and so on and so on. You get the picture. IWF is a powerhouse and sells out arena's and stadiums worldwide. I have been in IWF off and on for 2 years and this is my first title shot. You know why I think I'm getting this opportunity with Sean Libby to become champions together? Because it's smart business. We're both out of our minds. Not crazy like fun to be around at a party crazy. We're drink ten glasses of whiskey and fight a bus full of nuns at the drop of a hat crazy. Our opponents are lucky that this match isn't a NO-DQ match. Not only would we take the belts home, but they would be laying dead on the floor by the time it was all over.
Reporter 3: Have you seen Hollywood's Fucking Finest before? How does one prepare for guys like Axle Vengeance and Ace Static?
Tim Patrick: I've seen them. They're known around the entire world for their talents. They're only going to get more dangerous as time goes on. Before they get too hot here, Libby and I are going to cut their throats. The thing about them that annoys me is that they come across as divas with all this Hollywood garbage. Too many people in this industry try it make it about entertainment and celebrities and “super stars”. That doesn't fly in my world. In my world, I wake up every single day looking for somebody to fight. Some days I get my face kicked in, other days I'm the one who gets his hand raised when it's over. I'm not looking for some spotlight to shine on me. You'll never see me flying on private jets or riding in limos. When you see Tim Patrick, you see a man covered in scars and bandages, smoking a cigarette, drinking whiskey, eating a hoagie, and waiting on the next time he gets to see blood. I was born in New Jersey and live in Philadelphia. I have no time in my life to strive to be some rich pretty-boys from Hollywood. Sean Libby and I are going to make a statement at Battle Grounds. You can hurt us, but you can't kill us. We'll always get up and fight back. Sean and I are professional ass-kickers. Axle and Ace are going to find out the hard way that you'll never beat the Irish. Neart le Chéile - Tiocfaidh ár lá!
~~The Scene Fades~~
Guest Guest
Subject: Chapter 2: The Se7en Deadly Sins Part I Sun Feb 03, 2013 11:32 pm
Generation after generation the sexual appetite for humans grows increasingly. Unable to withstand our deepest, darkest and most intimate desires we give into carnal “needs”.
I look around at people observing them and what do I see before me? I see something that could very well rival Sodom and Gomorrah right before my very eyes. All of the underground sex parties full of men and women trading off between partners, latex and other fetishes so that the degenerates can get their kicks.
The crazed deviants sometimes require more risqué activities to get their rocks off. Some may prey on the weak forcing themselves on those they desire, the very same deviants that get off on stealing someone’s innocence.
PLEASE DON’T! … SOMEONE HELP ME!
The cries of the innocent as they’re plucked from their life full of sunshine and driven into eternal darkness can be heard. Child molesters and rapists alike walk the Earth many of which get away with what they do on a regular basis.
This world is full of EVIL, so much EVIL that it makes you wonder where the good guys are? With so much darkness around who does one turn to for guidance in a dimly lit world? They say look to the lord for guidance but truly you can only look to yourself to triumph over these disgusting sadists.
I’ll tell you one thing, if I created something so EVIL and so disturbing that much like an artist I would take an eraser to my creation and wipe it clean. Why do these men and women still take breaths from those more deserving to breathe? Questions like these are the ones that should be answered. It should not be the plain and simple fact that the main reason for living is to follow the rules so the gates shall open for you in the afterlife. Why live life according to someone’s rules when you aren’t sure that said person truly exists?
Are we all here to base our lives off of a coin toss? I didn’t think so either.
My passion is undeniable and my LUST is uncontrollable. I’ve gone through my life living fast and changing women as much as my undergarments. Australian Superstar is the name and possibly kissing dudes might not have just been a game. Using my appearance and glamorous lifestyle to get me to the top…I’ve taken PRIDE in becoming an object of sexual desire. I wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of a young and foolish fan, one that wants to possibly get next to me and feel my "man" parts. They call me Gordon Fury…I call him LUST.
They’ve sullied my name backstage but I’ve done this to myself. The mistakes I’ve made have led me to be deceived time and time again. Man after man I’ve let them inside my tomb, feeling them release inside hoping to flower my womb. A woman scorned but there is no fury. Sometimes I cry thinking of all those mistakes, I just spread my legs for the world and I do whatever it takes. Spit on me and degrade me all you want for I do as I please and that is how it shall be. They call me Tiffani…I call her LUST.
Look at my golden locks and protruding jaw, my facial construction is that of a god. I consider myself the greatest star of them all. It doesn’t matter to me what you look like what so ever as long as you’ll love me always and forever. I desire the feeling of love and the sensual touch of a woman. You might mistake me for Don Juan DeMarco but he was able to choose his partners. I fall for every new female face in the company hoping to find love but all the while I’ve only found LUST. I’ve felt so alone for far too long do I confuse love and sex…am I really that wrong? Crying, my eyes they welt up with heartbreak…they always leave me could love just be fake? Screaming out my lungs maybe I’ll get them while they’re young. FUCK love, FUCK women and FUCK monogamy, maybe I’ll dabble in some sodomy. They call me Chuck Matthews…I call him LUST.
All three of the perpetrators have desires that need to be fulfilled. They LUST after people to give them a satisfaction that cannot be achieved alone. No matter if it’s the one that lures in the weak or the weak themselves that get fooled to give into their deepest desires. Look at these individuals giving into the SIN but success has been granted to them.
When will they be punished?
NEVER not EVER!
Do their actions make you reconsider the way you live your life? It should. You should enjoy the fruits of your labor. Embellish yourself and dig in. Let yourselves go, fly like a bird and soar as high as you can. There are no consequences from this man that is pretend. When you feel the urge to do something that’s supposedly EVIL take a look around you. Those that SIN are doing nothing but succeeding.
There is no higher power and there is no creator. When death greats us with a smile and a sickle, we are forever worm food soiling the Earth as the world goes on living without us. Live your life and do as you please because tomorrow you might be stricken with disease. This is nothing new…but it’s time we all awaken. I am The Black Mamba; pleased to meet you…I am the voice but we are the FORSAKEN.
In an age where the youth of the nation are more concerned with what level they can become in World of Warcraft we’ve dawned an era of lazy moronic children. This is an age of stupidity, an age of underachieving delinquents whom will never learn the lesson of an honest days work.
I’ve broken my back before my hands calloused over from the intensive labor I’ve endured. What once was considered character-developing labor has been shunned and considered to be peasant’s work. When building a kingdom hard work is required.
Everyone wants a handout, where was my handout when I was living on my own as a child struggling to get by? Where was my assistance struggling to find the meaning of life all by myself with no parental figures to help guide me?
Sit there on your asses and hope and pray to your god to save you from pain and suffering all you want but I shall overcome. I shall take action. Even if my hands must shed blood I will not sit ideally and expect good things to come.
No matter how often I lose I continue to comeback for more and more. No one respects and everyone humiliates me on a regular basis. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to win a match and I’ve even spilled my blood time and time again for the fans. My carefree rebellious attitude along with my love for Insane Clown Posse has made me a GLUTTON for verbal and physical abuse and punishment. I will never win again EVER. You can walk on me and spit on me so long as I get paid and get recognition from the barflies in the boonies. They call me Tim Patrick…I call him GLUTTONY.
Sitting and wasting away the only love in my life is that of fast food and dangerous amounts of calories. I could have a heart attack at any moment but I continue to engorge myself in fried foods slowly but surely killing myself. I’m MASSIVE and my organs are dying to breathe. I might have won a championship here and a championship there but I enjoy doing just enough to get by. The novelty of my name has worn off and I’ve become a useless pile of mass. One day they’ll find my DEAD next to a bucket of extra crispy. I’m a disgusting heavy breathing SLOB. They call me Farmer Dick…I call him GLUTTONY.
Walking around backstage with a plate of barbeque stuffing my face and disgracing my body. I rely on my mother to provide for me and I couldn’t even wipe my own ass on a good day. My brain works half of the time because I was born with a defect. Sometimes I ask myself why God why? Why would the good lord create me the way he did. Why did he forsake me with these disgusting features? Truth be told I’ve done it to myself. I’ve eaten away my life and I’ve never taken the time to properly learn. Maybe someday someone will teach me however until that day comes I’ll continue to be a half-wit, mentally handicapped, and a complete dredge to society. They call me Alexander Raven…I call him THE GLUTTON!
Look at these three disgusting individuals and they all make more than you financially. These three perpetrators haven’t been punished but have punished themselves. They wear the scars of GLUTTONY. Mangled bodies full of fat walking the edge of obesity and minds ruined from neglect and just plain laziness. All of these men are wastes to society and yet people continue to support their actions. People cheer and buy their t-shirts they support these disgusting FUCKS! Let them succeed for as long as they do my point will be true.
Go ahead and go to your churches, grab your rosaries and hope to the Lord that he or she can save you from eternal damnation. Follow the blind and live a life of naivety while those around you continue to ignore the man in the sky while living a life of comfort.
There is no higher power and there is no creator. When death greats us with a smile and a sickle, we are forever worm food soiling the Earth as the world goes on living without us. Live your life and do as you please because tomorrow you might be stricken with disease. This is nothing new…but it’s time we all awaken. I am The Black Mamba; I am the voice but we are the FORSAKEN...pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name.
The scene opening up reveals nothing more than dirt, trees and mainly dead grass and weeds scattered about the property. An ugly landscape no doubt about it, but some call this wasteland home. Walking through the dirt roads the camera begins to pan about seeing a cabin like shack in the not too distant horizon. Inching closer and closer to the cabin we arrive at a mailbox that reads “MacFarlane” on it. Suddenly a figure walks into the picture wearing a black v-neck along with charcoal colored skinny jeans and a pair of all black vans. The large figure clears his throat and chuckles to himself as the camera pans up to his face. Ace Static stands there with his hands folded almost like a praying position.
“The beloved home of an old friend, what a quaint yet miserable looking place. You see I knew a man who grew up here all his life fearing change and fearing the unknown. Living with his mother still suckling at her teat. What a waste. Let’s have a look see inside shall we?”
Walking through the desert like heat of Texas this wasn’t a place I desired to be. I’ve long gone moved on from living in such desolate places. My homeland was war torn and far worse than this but my ambition and my character moved me from that place into this so-called land of the free. As I arrived at his home I opened the door as it was seemingly unlocked.
“Honey…I’m hooommmeee.”
No one answered me; they must be out of the house preparing for judgment day. Glancing around I could smell the stench of filth and garbage. The house was cluttered with trash and the couch stained with who knows what. It was a place that only the feeblest of minds could occupy. The television had coat hangers sticking up from it as the picture was scrambled. The sink was full of dirty dishes from months of excess eating. It was truly a pigsty.
“Look at how these people live, a home that if well kept could be a palace to those who are so unfortunate that they don’t even have a place to call home. This home would be immaculate if given to the right hands.”
Stepping over trash I walked into the first bedroom where posters of various professional wrestlers decorated the corroded walls. A stained and smashed up mattress lay flat along the far right wall and trash of course was sprinkled about the bedroom.
“Ah this must be the living quarters of the man I call THE REAL GLUTTON…Sean Libby. Truly the epitome of a glutton look at how he lives, surrounded by trash this is the definition of poetic justice ladies and gentlemen. I must leave the room before it becomes detrimental to my health.”
Opening the door to the ballroom I immediately closed it not wanting to endure the horrors of the stenches protruding from within. Moving on quickly I noticed a few rats scurry off along with a group of roaches feasting on a molded loaf of bread. The final bedroom had to be the bedroom of Sean’s beloved mother.
“Missus Libby, I’ve got a message for you…”
The door slowly creaked open and much to my surprise the room was completely in order. It was clean almost as though it hadn’t been touched in years. Dust neatly covered the furniture and her bed was made without a wrinkle.
“I’m not too surprised in all honesty. Sean is a pathetic fool that should be put down with the rest of the damaged animals. All of the mess around here created by him all the while his mother maintains a habitable environment. Libby much like the rest of America you’re lazy and you disgust me. I can’t stand another minute in this shit hole. This place is like a quicksand pit; it’ll suck you down and make you non-existent.”
Having enough of this place I had hoped to discover something more than I already knew about Sean. He was trained by another waste of space probably living in a similar situation, lives with his mother, does nothing to further himself as a human being, and he lives in a landfill. It had been all that I expected really. Never once would I have thought I was walking into an extravagant place and never once did I think the childhood bedroom of Sean Libby would be decorated with trophies or awards boasting his accomplishments. What an uneventful trip and an utter waste of my precious time.
This week after the entire world has been buzzing and after everyone has been wondering what Ace Static's plans are…what purpose does he serve? All the questions and speculation will come to a head. When I rip Sean Libby's beating heart straight out from his chest and show everyone how much heart he truly lacks.
I’ve become a man of mystery somewhat of an enigma so to say. I'm not perfect but I'm a far better man to look up to then the so called gods out there. Am I a sinner? Maybe. It depends on what mythical Lord you answer to. I do as I please and this trend will continue for the rest of my life until I’ve sunken into the ground and had maggots tear apart my rotting flesh.
The first stone shall be cast when I make my way down to the ring. Sean Libby will be nothing more than a footnote in history after I’ve finished him off he’ll go back home to his shack and live his uneventful and pathetic life. His mother will cater to his needs and his brain will become more and more of a mush like substance than it already is.
I am The VENOM and these are my words, live by them or live a life in fear worshipping the words of men no greater than you or I. The Bible is nothing more than a book. Let me hand you a book that I’ve written inside of it it’ll read “Do as you please” and that will be it.
Sean Libby and Tim Patrick are perfect together. You see they've both taken up residence in dumps, one bouncing from nightclub to nightclub not wanting to come home to his miserable true existence and the other living in a dump above an old wrestling arena...how quaint.
Tim Patrick when I look at you I simply do not see anything worthy of mentioning. You aren't a winner, you aren't a world class athlete, you aren't stronger, faster, or more intelligent than Axle or I...why should we walk into this match and even show you an ounce of respect? You don't DESERVE ANYTHING! NOTHING! I refuse to give you the time of day. Fuck you. HFF is a brotherhood. We didn't just join up together one day because hey we're both wrestlers not receiving any TV time so why not try tag teaming? NO FUCK THAT. Axle and I are both former world champions, both hall of famers and BOTH worthy of taking the tag team division to heights unachievable. When you look up champion it's describes Axle and I perfectly. Do not attempt to refute my beliefs because I will shove them right down your throat and make you CHOKE. I'm the most ferocious man to step into a ring next to Axle Vengeance. I'll never quit...you'll have to bring my pulse to a complete STOP in order to defeat me. Neither one of you are capable of such an act therefore you're fighting a losing battle right off the bat. HFF reigns supreme, give us our titles.
IWF a new leader is here to take you down a path of SELF-righteousness. I will LEAD you into TEMPTATION because it is once we give into these temptations that true power can be attained. It is once we do for ourselves that we will be truly happy. Give into me…give into the SIN. Give into THE STATIC AGE...
Cutting to static I couldn't help but grin letting my pale blue eyes pierce through the camera lens leaving one final sinister image for the camera.
Alex Dillinger
Posts : 465 Join date : 2012-12-06 Age : 37 Location : Los Angeles, CA
Subject: Chapter 7: We Are The Champions Sun Feb 03, 2013 11:56 pm
Chapter 7: We Are The Champions Cast of Characters
Present Day Location: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania “You Cannot Stop The Empire”
Two days past, life has brought me through twists and turns leading to extremely interesting conclusions. One thing that’s for sure, that one very thing that remains constant is that The Empire cannot be beat. Alexander Remington jumped ship and hopped over to our side…my side. Parker Wayde imagined himself standing victorious after getting one over on me. I’m sure a vision of grandeur danced throughout his mind. Not in a million years did he imagine me doing something such as beating him viciously with my brothers. In no way did he think we’d feed him to Alexander Remington. But a las…we certainly did the unthinkable. Remington is an ally no longer a foe. You see in this company sometimes you need make decisions that in your heart you shouldn’t make…decisions that could plague your conscience for hours on end while you struggle to sleep. Those decisions are the ones that make the man. Those decisions separate the STRONG from the WEAK. Give way to your soul and achieve GREATNESS. Stand tall and look our for yourself. FUCK what other people think and what they have to say about you, when you reach that pinnacle it makes it all worthwhile.
Guys like Gordon Fury, John Tolly, Johnny Cage, Ryan Apollos, Jaxx Ryder, Johnny Daniels and Matt Stone struggle to find themselves. They struggle with the eternal struggle of being recognized. You see the entire bunch just begs to be noticed. All they want is a taste of the spotlight. Let’s face it though, the spotlight is focused on The Empire and that’s it. No man can stop it. Stygian wouldn’t even dare to rise up against this force. I beg Gordon Fury to reconsider his little revolt. My focus has strictly become making The Empire the greatest force the IWF has ever seen. Everyone has a role. Alexander Remington, Ace, Damien and myself soon will be titleholders leading the way and carrying the flags. The others…well the others can continue to fight and prove themselves worthy of brandishing the banner of The Empire. HFF and Remington with Corey Casey…a truly unholy alliance if there ever was one. Sure I’ve taken flack for my decision but Corey Casey has yet to steer me wrong and he’s allowed me to return to form. For that I’ll forever be grateful. Was I cautious about allowing Remington into The Empire? Of course I was, a fool wouldn’t be. It was this very same character that stabbed his best friend in the back and the very same man that left The Empire in the first place. However when Corey Casey brings up the notion of complete and utter dominance it triggers something inside me. The desire to become the greatest most destructive force ever seen in Professional Wrestling is something that ignites inside of me. There is no further explanation other than we’re trying to make history.
The landscapes have shifted and things are changing. A tag team division has been put in place. Something Ace Static and I are all too familiar with. The very same road that had started our friendship, we’ll be traveling down once again. If there was ever someone worthy of teaming with it was Ace. Never had I had much desire for working with other people. When it came to Ace and Damien those were the two…that was it. We were like a fuckin tripod if you will. Firing on all cylinders and spitting venom no one stood a chance against the three of us back in the game. Our eyes were set on the prize. Ace Static and Axle Vengeance…YOUR IWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS…Love it, Hate it, but you just can’t STOP it.
- Axle Vengeance
Present Day Location: The Docks Philadelphia, Pennsylvania “The Sit Down”
“I see thee men approaching the western gate m’lord. We believe they are the enemy.”
Looking up from the hood of the blacked out 1955 Ford F-100 I glanced over to see Damien Drake doing a proper bow acting like a smartass holding his pair of binoculars. Making fun of my little entrance at Rising Monarchy he stood there in his black SWAT pants and black peacoat. Ace cackled standing in the bed of the truck with his black leather jacket and black skinny jeans. We were ready for what was to come. Noticing the three Escalades coming down the road it was almost show time.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah Dames. It wasn’t my proudest moment. I give you that.”
“Dude what the fuck was that, I’m just glad I wasn’t involved. Fuckin Dungeons and Dragons…NERD. At least you weren’t ultra faggy riding a “white steed” grazing through the battle.”
“Remington did look fucking retarded. I didn’t get it. Some fuckin dragon scares Remington…who the FUCK signed off on that? I’m just glad we didn’t have to be part of that shitfest.”
Shaking my head I couldn’t help but laugh at it. My mind was elsewhere anyways. The cars were approaching and would be here any second. Enough games and bullshitting I need focus. Ace popped off a final joke using his best Christopher Walken impression.
“Besides…they shot you…in the HEAD…with an ARROW.”
“It is…what it is. NEXT subject please.”
There wasn’t much I could say about that. I mean it was true that shit was corny and made me feel like a grade A DORK. No other way to explain it really. They did take me out with an arrow, a magic one…I got straight up JFKed. Oh well. Story of my life, Remington escapes. With everything gearing up to a head I could see the seriousness come over both Damien and Ace’s faces.
“Here we go boys…”
The cars stop ten feet from us. Six men in suits hop out of their SUVs before one opens the door and out steps a large bald man with a freshly pressed suit on. His stomach hangs over and his overcoat almost touched the ground. Ashley’s father Jacob looked like a slob, a slob with a lot of money and power. As he made his way with his entourage surrounding him I walked forward with my brothers.
“So what’d you wanna talk about? I’m down here fa business and you call me out here in the cold. May I ask…do you have a fuckin death wish kid?”
“We both know things had to come to this am I right? I mean there was never a way for us to get face time with you without making some noise right? Rustle the beehive…”
“Anger the bees, that’s how I see it though. I’m a very busy and VERY IMPORTANT man Mr. Dillinger. When you meet with me it better serve a PURPOSE. It had better result in something beneficial for MYSELF. So you can either start talking now or we’re done here.”
“Heard about your son, shame really.”
Looking towards him his eyes were hidden behind a dark pair of aviator sunglasses. Lowering his glasses Jacob looked down and began to chuckle. Shaking his hand and head as if “you got some nerve”. I couldn’t help but grin.
“You know what, I thought that was you. Somethin told me it was you kid. Deep down I knew.”
“That why you had me kidnapped and tortured?”
“Think I’m gonna answer that? You see when you popped my kid you did the best thing you coulda done fa me. That fuckin junkie piece a shit. He was ruinin my campaign but you…you guys turned that around fa me. You guys made it a sad story. All I needed to do was start a foundation and all of a sudden I’m the good guy again. Funny how politics work, hell if you eva got ya head on right you could do well in my line of work.”
“You’ve got all the answers to everything don’t you? Big mouth, big appetite right? This ends NOW!”
Suddenly Ace whistled and from the alleyway on the left Ca$h and D-Day rolled through with their AK’s aimed and steady. Rushing the suits this was a hostile takeover.
“Get yo guns out and put em on the ground NOW! DO IT NOW!”
Placing their guns on the concrete and doing as they’re told everything was going smoothly. Jacob looked to me with a slight nod of the head and a crack of a smile saying “you got me” accepting defeat for the time being. He truly must not have known what we were capable of.
“Alright, alright…you got my attention. I’m all ears now. Let’s talk business.”
“There’s no more time for TALK fat man.”
With those words Ca$h motioned with his head for D-Day to take action. With the force of all things holy and unholy combined D-Day cracked Jacob with a THUNDERING right hand crumbling the overweight future senator. He was out cold and answers were going to be made.
“Let me talk with him…I’ll get the answers out of him.”
“You sure you wanna do this, I can carry my own weight and handle my own problems.”
“It’ll be my pleasure, I hate the way he looks.”
“Handle it then.”
Laughing hysterically Ace rubbed his hands together his cold blue eyes looked demonic as he turned and headed into the small storage room. D-Day and Ca$h carried Jacob into the storage room while Damien paid off the suits. We found our way to get him alone. It was cheaper than a three tickets to fuckin Russia that’s for sure. The suits piled into the SUVs and drove off leaving the scene. More than likely he didn’t take us seriously. Hiring some local security to come and see his ex-son in law professional wrestler and former musician. We were harmless right? Surely he had his expectations of us but he never saw something like this coming.
“Can we get something to eat after this, I’m fuckin starving?”
Ca$h and D-Day pulled down the roll up door to the storage unit. I could vaguely hear what Ace was saying but it mainly made no sense. Looking to Damien I leaned against the hood of the Ford truck once again thinking, I was always thinking.
“Yeah we can grub after this I don’t care.”
“Hey man what happens if this whole thing doesn’t work out? Like what if he doesn’t give us what we need to know. What happens if he doesn’t talk and we gotta end this guy? When does it stop?”
“It stops when I have my answers, it stops when I’m fully satisfied. No one has EVER played me like this, NO ONE! I refuse to let myself get duped like this without striking with VENGEANCE. My reputation is on the line and my livelihood as a man is on the line.”
“Who do we go after next? We can’t go after Ashley, that’s off limits for whatever FUCKING reason.”
“There shouldn’t have to be a next, this should bring a resolution to my troubles. This should be my closure.”
“It wouldn’t be it, we’d have to go and get the guy and take care of him.”
“Of course, I’m not letting him off the hook. It’ll never be that easy.”
“Fuck it you know where I stand. I’m just talking just to talk. Ace will get everything out of him we need.”
“I just want it all over with man. You know what I mean? Just a clear frame of mind so we can get back to doing what we do best.”
My phone vibrated in my coat pocket as I removed it sliding it open to read a text message. Ace had sent me a message and what I read had stopped my heart. There was no other worthy reaction.
“He talked, it’s…you’ll never believe this but it’s Samuel Hessingstock.”
Samuel Hessingstock? Was that really the man behind it all? I hadn’t heard nor seen him in years. We had our history and sure HFF had embarrassed him and reigned anarchy on his program. But revenge like this, things just didn’t add up. Regardless of it making sense or not I was enraged.
“What’s up bro?”
“Ace figured it all out…”
I turned away from Damien and walked to the edge of the dock looking out over the filthy water. My mind was racing trying to put the pieces to the puzzle together. I guess Samuel had finally searched out his perfect revenge. He got me. It made no difference because I would have the last laugh.
“So who is it?”
“Samuel…Hessingstock.”
“The FUCK!?”
“Yup good ol’ Sammy HessingCOCK has FINALLY gotten one over on HFF. After years of being a pathetic excuse for a wrestler and an even worse booker…he finally stepped up to the plate and managed to FUCK me over. Well it aint over yet.”
“That limey bastard, should’ve known it was him when that kid was saying Sam. Whatever. We can find him he’s probably still working the independent scene. He could never break out.”
“It’s almost over Dames. Like I told you have faith in me. It’ll all be over soon.”
“This ended up being more fun than I thought it would be. I’ve always wanted to beat the FUCK out of Samuel. I can’t stand him, he fucked me over in IWX and I’ll never forget it.”
“You and me both…”
The rollup door slowly opened up as Ace ducked underneath it walking out towards Damien and I. With blood on his hands and a grin on his face it was obvious he wasted little time getting to business and working over Jacob.
“Look man why don’t the two of you head out of here and try to hunt down our little old friend Sam. I’ll clean this up and the two retards inside will help me CLEANUP the mess. Catch my drift?”
“Alright sounds good, I appreciate it bro…this was huge for me. Thanks again Acer.”
“Don’t get all fuckin gay, teary eyed and sniffling like Drake DeMarco when Hot Topic runs out of fishnet tanktops.”
“Fuck you Dennis the Menace, hit me up later.”
Saying our goodbyes Ace would take care of the mess and Damien and I would go do research to find where Samuel was working. As soon as we found him we’d do the world a favor…riding it of a worthless human being. Fuck Samuel Hessingstock I was coming for blood and…VENGEANCE.
Present Day Location: The Palomar Hotel, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania “The Final Countdown”
Tapping a pen on the table Damien was on the computer doing research. Seemed as though he wanted to find Hessingstock as badly as I did. Hessingstock treated Damien like shit during his stint in IWX. Being forced to run stupid gimmicks and agree to stories he’d never be caught dead doing now. It was there Damien’s potential was something Ace and I caught notice of. We opened his eyes and took him away from that dying shithole of a promotion.
“He’s not running any promotions. I can’t find any form of him being an active wrestler either. Besides he’s so irrelevant he’s not even on Wikipedia.”
“Of course not the dude is trying to become relevant again by stirring things up with me. Check out his twitter account see what the fucker has been doing. There has to be some clue or something on there that’ll give us an indication as to where he’s at.”
“Alright…”
Pouring myself a drink, whiskey neat, I backtracked in my brain. Going through the entire scenario time and time again. Surely I hadn’t imagined any consequences or repercussions for my actions. We burned his office down, knocked his girl’s front teeth out, crucified him and then never heard from him again. Something should’ve told me it was him. After all he spent the majority of his career trying to be just like me, why wouldn’t he come for VENGEANCE.
“I’ve got something here. He’s talking about his time off. Guess he’s working for a company called Revival.”
“Sounds about right, he needs to revive that shameful career of his. Stupid fuckin Brit…he’s dead.”
“Says in his bio that he’s the head of creative as well as an active member of the roster.”
“Head of creative…don’t make me laugh. A title undeserving completely, I mean this is the same guy that had Diego Estrella wearing a mask like any other stereotypical Mexican luchador. He doesn’t have a creative bone in his pale body. Fuckin Casper.”
“Looks like he’s still runnin with Dyke and Blaze. The queer parade marches on.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. Without those two slobbering his cock he’d be nowhere in the business. Seems as though he’s fallen off ever since we crucified him and he’s finally making his way back into the scene. I’m sure he needed a way in, a way to garner the spotlight once again. He used me to catapult himself before and he’s only doing it again. Too bad HFF has figured his game out. Find out where he’s going to be next week. I want this to go down without hiccups. However I’ll need a moment alone with him of course. I want to look in his eyes and be the last face he remembers until he moves on into another life. His last breath will be taken under my supervision.”
“It’ll get done. This crumpet grubbin Sting lovin tubby fuck will pay for crossing HFF. Sure he might be laughing it up riding Blaze’s dick with Dyke Adam’s balls deep down his throat but soon enough he’ll be six feet deep. You can end him but I want my shots. I wanna crack his skull with my bare hands and carve his face up with a rusty razor.”
“Deal, I told you this would all work out and you’d benefit from this Dames. Have I ever steered you wrong before? Didn’t think so. Now get a location I’m going out for a stroll. I’ll be back in a few hours hopefully you’ve located him by then.”
“Alright sounds good…”
With that I grabbed my black and white letterman’s jacket. Throwing it on I headed out of the hotel. Things had finally started to come together. Letting out a sigh of relief I stepped off of the elevator. Walking through the lobby I noticed some kids running up to me with IWF magazines and sharpies in hand. Obviously they were going to beg for an autograph. Just when things were going well and I had a moment to taste my victory here came some children to ruin it. Honestly I was always fuckin irritated with the admiration people had for me. I never showed them any respect why did they still look up to me and want to be me? Maybe it was the whole struggle thing. Like they were drawn to my battle with inner demons and overcoming drug addictions. More than likely it was my brutally honest approach on the microphone and my unmatched skills in the ring.
Truth be told I hated the youth of today. Mainly full of undisciplined, whiney, spoiled, pilled up, obese little twats. Kids were becoming a disgusting skid mark on society. You can’t blame them. The parents are to fault. Giving kids everything they want.
“Axle! Can we have an autograph?”
The kids stood there looking up at me with smiles from ear to ear. One had to be twelve years old the other one about eight. Looking down on them I scowled.
“You MAY have an autograph, how much money do you have?”
“Uhhh…umm…”
Stuttering and fumbling over their words neither child had money. I threw them off with my response. Here they stood thinking they were both getting autographs and yet I dispelled those thoughts quickly. Crouching down meeting them both at eye level I smiled.
“Now you see nothing in life is free. You have to WORK to get things. Just because you see me in this shitty city walking around doesn’t mean you automatically get an autograph. I refuse to be an enabler for your pathetic generation. No more fucking hand me outs. Now just for you both ruining my joyous evening I’d like you to know that Santa Clause isn’t real, if you don’t believe me stay up and watch your parents wrap your gifts.”
The youngest one began to sniffle wiping his eyes trying not to cry. When I looked at the twelve year old he looked mad for not getting his way. So I decided to ruin his day too.
“Oh and you standing there trying to look tough…I saw your father outside earlier making out with the bellhop. Yes your father is gay. Deal with it.”
Both kids instantaneously started balling their eyes out. Grabbing the magazines I ripped them up and walked out of the lobby. Uptight yuppies stared at me in shock and horror. Fuck them. No one knew what it was like to be constantly hounded everywhere you go no matter where or what you were doing there was always someone they’re begging for a fucking autograph. It was pathetic but true. Strolling out like the CHAMPION and KING I truly was I walked down the streets of Philadelphia like Bruce Springsteen minus the stupid ULTRA American gimmick.
Cold winds howled and the sky was grey, this definitely wasn’t my beautiful home of California. No wonder everyone here was pasty, you couldn’t buy a tan out here…I’m sure you could but that’s beside the point. Samuel Hessingstock had crossed a line with a man far more dangerous than any man he’d ever come into contact with before. Playing games with my emotions, my wallet, my career and my entire outlook on life. Just imagining the thoughts I had of starting a family and settling down. I was literally on board with the idea of being the Mr. Nice Guy. Oh how things change within the drop of a dime. Surely time would’ve allowed the transition to be smooth but forever would I deny my TRUEST self. Forever would I have struggled going against the grain and going against everything that I really was. Fuck that. I’m in a way everything had happened the way it did. However with the news outlets reporting on Ashley and I along with me being duped something had to be done. My image needed to be restored. So Samuel would suffer. Things happen for a reason and I’ve always believed that.
Philadelphia was a place I had traveled to many of times. This is the home of the purest wrestling fans in the United States the world title belonging to Japan. Hell come to think of it this was probably the only place people cheered for me besides Los Angeles. Appreciation from the adult fans that knew true talent and true in ring ability. Did I care for them? No. No matter how much they wanted to cheer or chant for me and Ace to win the tag team championship I’d never appreciate them back. I’ve gone my entire career without having to need fans. I’ve done it all on my own and it would continue to be that way for the rest of my career.
Walking into a small diner I sat in a booth ordering two cups of coffee. She was a little late but I didn’t mind. With everything coming to a head there was nothing wrong playing the field a little. With clarity of mind things would be much better, I could actually have a normal conversation. Rage hadn’t been plaguing me ever since I knew a result was coming.
Watching her feet nestled in a pair of Doc Martins stepping step by step into the dinner my eyes traveled up her black leggings to her small jean shorts all the way up to her grey cashmere sweater and perfectly straight black hair. The small Asian girl smiled big when our eyes made contact.
“Haiiii!”
She waved rapidly and I climbed out of the booth walking towards her embracing her with a hug and kiss on the cheek. As we both sat down in the booth our coffee arrived.
“So how have you been V?”
“I’ve been good just doing the modeling thing and still painting.”
“Good to know that you’re still painting I often wondered about that, I know you’ve always been so passionate about your art.”
“Of course, you know I’ll never stop painting it’s my passion silly.”
Veronica, we had met through Krystal Meth. Krystal and Veronica were the best of friends. I always remained in close contact with Veronica even when Krystal had passed away. In Japan when I was managing Damien and helping him in his career I ran into Veronica who was doing some promotional work for her paintings. Like Krystal, Veronica and I had a connection. We were just two creative people with a lot in common. She smiled at me taking my hand in hers.
“So tell me what’s new with you?”
“Well not much just getting settled again, back to work in the ring doing my thing and getting my mind right.”
“I saw. You look good out there again, seems like you’re happy once again Alex.”
“I am, I’m doing what I love doing and I just can’t seem to walk away from the business yet…guess I’m not ready or whatever.”
[color=hotpink]“I know you walked away when everything happened with Krystal. Despite what everyone wanted to say or think I know you took that hard cause I did too.”
“Of course I did. It really fucked me up. I think everything that happened with Ashley and me retiring stemmed from that.”
“If you didn’t ignore me and would’ve picked up your phone from time to time then maybe you could’ve listened to me and not hopped in bed with that succubus.”
Laughing as her hand caressed mine she was dead on. That was probably why I wouldn’t answer her calls…I knew what was coming. She was right most of the time. She knew me just like Krystal knew me. Veronica was Krystal minus the baggage as harsh as that may sound. Looking at her there was a lot on my mind and a lot that I wanted to say however I’d take it one day at a time.
“Trust me, I know. I regret everything with that. Aiden was the only reason anything even escalated the way it did.”
“You ever find out who the real father is?”
Shit I didn’t want to lie to her. We weren’t supposed to know who the real father was…not yet anyways. With everything about to happen we’d have to play dumb for now. Time to act like it didn’t matter to me.
“No not yet, I really could care less though. I’ve put it all behind me and moved on. Ashley packed her shit took my money and left so it doesn’t matter…I washed my hands with everything fuck it.”
“You…YOU don’t care? It’s bullshit. No way do you not care. I know you Alex you’re definitely not one to just brush it off like its yesterday’s news.”
With a chuckle I sipped my coffee and smiled at her once again. She knew me so what could I do but shrug my shoulders and flash her the pearly whites and dimples. Hopefully that’d be enough of a distraction.
“Look I appreciate you too much to ruin our time with talk of my bullshit and Ashley being a conniving bitch. Most people told me she wasn’t good for me I didn’t believe it but obviously now I see it. So what bring you here to Philly?”
“Well I’m displaying a few of my pieces at a gallery not too far from here actually. You should come by and check them out.”
“What day is it?”
“It’s on Tuesday. Can you make it? Please come, don’t be lame…PLEEEEAASSSEEE!?”
“Alright then I’ll be there, but only because you twisted my arm about it.”
From across the table she lightly punched my shoulder giving me a stink face before we both started to laugh. As she sipped her coffee I sipped mine as well never losing contact with her eyes. We talked together sharing memories and future plans. It was nice to have a normal non-threatening conversation. Even if it was only just a little something to keep me going with, I truly appreciated talking with her. There’d be no way I’d miss her showing on Tuesday. A little bit of normalness in an oh so crazy life. She brought a peace of mind to me. The conversation was enough to make me feel that little bit of human side I had left.
Present Day Location: Train Station, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania “I am, what I am”
Looking into my very own eyes I could see the man standing there was a man focused and primed. Someone that demanded respect wherever he went. The glass on the Train Station was covered in filth and graffiti. Turning away from it I looked forward to where my career was headed and where I was going in the IWF. With eyes set on GOLD venom would be spit.
“Sean Libby and Tim Patrick…is that really it? Is that really the fucking competition IWF management has deemed worthy of facing to legends in this business like Ace Static and I? The list of people willing to accept the match must’ve been really short. I’ve seen what Libby and Patrick have to offer and it’s NOTHING…simple as that the two of them have NOTHING!”
“Look at this Sean “Crazy” Libby clown, the whole song and dance gimmick is played out kid. Then again I guess when you can’t get over you’ve gotta find something you’re good at and make it work right? Well if that’s the case I think he should leave professional wrestling all together. Just fuckin retire already. You couldn’t get over as a wrestler and that’s a given. Join a dance crew maybe, then again you aren’t very good at that either. Which begs the question what is Sean Libby good at? Here again we come to the very same answer…NOTHING. Sean Libby could never beat me even if I was just a torso. You were never a star even in the independents. Believe me when I tell you just because people clap and laugh when you act like a complete FUCKTARD it doesn’t mean they’re laughing with you more so laughing AT YOU. You do the worm and chop a chest or two, I’ve seen that all done before. I’ve seen another dude with that same fuckin tired shtick. It’s not original it’s not YOU and more importantly you should be ASHAMED of yourself. You should be ASHAMED of the way you act. Grow some Goddamn balls and stand up for yourself. Aren’t you tired of being nothing more than a Jester in the King’s court? Dance some more wave your hands around…sign some autographs…sing karaoke…DANCE PUPPET DANCE! Look at you Libby you have NO backbone whatsoever. I’d say something like I’m going to rip your spine out and hand it to you but since you don’t have one I guess I’ll just have to kick you in the cunt…pussy.”
“Libby’s partner Tim Patrick poses as big of a threat to HFF as a small surface wound poses the threat of death. I’ve seen his work seen what he brings to the table just like Libby. You see I don’t come into things blindly just assuming the victory is mine. I do my research, study my opponents and when I strike I strike with accuracy and viciousness. The weaknesses have been exposed and soon enough HFF will be crowned IWF Tag Team Champions.”
“Facing off against two followers should be an EASY task. One man changed his gimmick to appease the higher ups…the other man flew to a different country to fight for something that he had no business fighting for, moron. Why someone would fly to Ireland fighting for the freedom of a country that didn’t even want him. You’re American Tim fuckin act like it. Enough with the bullshit Irish pride Tim. I spit on your cloverleaves and piss in your pot of gold. Fuck you. People like you make me sick. Always trying to search for some trend to jump on. You saw some cause and wanted to feel like you belonged. No one appreciated you here in the states, no one except your buddy Ryan and even then he fuckin ended his life because he couldn’t stand being around you anymore. That’s right Tim even your own best friend couldn’t stand being near you. No one in this country CARED about you or LOVED you. Flying to Ireland hopefully you’d make friends and have a reason for existing. Guess what Tim…no one cares.”
“When I look at Tim I see a sloppy unkempt looking twat. His hair curly and rivaling Robert Plant, nice throwback…stupid short jean shorts and loud ass 1990’s t-shirts…way to stay relevant Timothy. No wonder you never belonged. I don’t care if you “took Corey Casey to the limit” you LOST. That’s all that matters at the end of the day. YOU LOST. Just like you’ve LOST many times in your career and just like after Battlegrounds when Ace and I stand tall holding our Tag Team Championship belts high in the air…you’ll have LOST again. You’re nothing more than a glorified hardcore buffoon that takes shots to the head with fluorescent tubes taking bumps through tables and on tacks. The shock and awe gore-tastic wrestler. Congratulations Timothy, you’re a poor man’s Terry Funk.”
“When it’s all said and done HFF cannot be stopped. Many have tried and MANY have failed. It’s just another day in the office for Ace and I. With Ace, Damien and myself back in full swing the sky is the limit. The Empire reigns supreme and all these peasants continuously struggle to find meaning and PURPOSE. We’ve got the IWF on a stranglehold. Our knuckles have turned to white and soon enough everyone will have taken their final breaths.”
“The wrestling GIANTS have descended from their city in the sky. We’ve climbed down the beanstalk and landed in the IWF. Hungry and thrusting for blood we’ve come to collect. Ace Static and Axle Vengeance tag teaming again? Unstoppable. Step by step minute by minute the time continues to tick. Soon enough we’ll be champions again and soon enough the luck of the Irish runs out. Surely Sean Libby feels at a low point losing to Ashe Corvin. Surely Tim Patrick has ring rust. Needless to say we’ll be sure to reinforce that fact. The GIANTS can smell the blood. I can smell it in the air…I can FUCKING TASTE IT! These two potato gobblers will be laid to waste. Fe-fi-fo-fum…we smell the blood…Oh the blood, Oh the blood, Oh the MASSACRE!”
“HFF your future tag team champions of the fuckin world…deal with it. Boo us out of the building call us MONSTERS. All it does is fuel the fire that burns deep within. The fire to be the best and maintain that stature. People doubt my actions and what I’ve done as of late. FUCK THEM. I do what I want, when I want, for reasons pertaining only to my KNOWLEDGE! Not everyone needs to know my plans. Things are happening for a reason. Trust me when I say in 2013 it’s all about the BIG PICTURE. Pay attention this year. All eyes need be focused on Axle Vengeance and the rest of HFF. We’ve come here to wreak havoc and the games have just begun.”
“When I first got here I offered my opinion on The Empire. Everything I said remains TRUE. EVERYTHING I’ve said. Get ready for things to get going; little by little we’ll dominate. The Empire is an unstoppable force and even Gordon Fury and his band of fairies can’t stop it. Business is soon to pick up, however disfiguring someone and bringing them to the edge of their deathbeds is all PLEASURE to me. Libby and Patrick bow down to the MOTHER FUCKING GREATEST! Lower your heads when you walk by me for my greatness supersedes anything you’ve ever stepped in the ring with before. You’ve been warned; this match could be your last. Say your prayers and beg for mercy because HFF is fucking THIRSTY. See you “lads” at Battlegrounds…”
>-|END|-<
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Subject: Re: Hollywood's Fucking Finest [vs.] Neart le Chéile
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