PWP 18: Triple Threat match

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PWP Office PWP Owner Posts: 45	PWP 18: Triple Threat match Dec 29, 2015 1:29:10 GMT -6 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by PWP Office on Dec 29, 2015 1:29:10 GMT -6 1 RP Max. 300 word minimum. Deadline is Jan 20th at 11:59pm Central.

Deleted
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PWP 18: Triple Threat match Dec 29, 2015 17:58:00 GMT -6

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Post by Deleted on Dec 29, 2015 17:58:00 GMT -6

~-= How To Blade Ryder and Savannah =-~

Preface: It had been so, so long since the world was in the presence of Sanity Personified. It feels like an eternity when it's barely been a year, if even that. Where was he last? Awesome Championship Entertainment? Maybe. The Professional Wrestling Project? Could be. Time is finicky that way. Anyway, like every sleeping, dreaming monster must some day awaken, so too must The Portland Madman.

Iä! Iä! Schneider fhtagn!

Iä! Iä! Schneider fhtagn!

Iä! Iä! Schneider fhtagn!

Iä! Iä! Schneider fhtagn!

Iä! Iä! Schneider fhtagn!

Iä! Iä! Schneider fhtagn!

Iä! Iä! Schneider fhtagn!

And he rises.

The Now: But despite what's just been stated, regardless of the chilling forebodingness of it all, the scene before you is quite bright and unassuming.

Unable to tend to "Perfectly Sane" Maxwell Schneider all by himself - he's employed in the Extreme Wrestling Corporation these days, first as a trainer, then as a manager, and now he's trying to have one last go of it inside the ring - The #1 Hit-Maker Johnny Bonecrusher needed to ensure his former client was well taken care of. He left Schneider not in an institution but rather at the home of life coach extraordinaire, a man simply going by the strange moniker of Numbers.

Numbers' home was already occupied by a rookie wrestler by the name of Joe Nobody, who had a very very very brief stint in Insurgents of Wrestling. Unlike the more manic Schneider, Nobody was apathy and lethargy in human form. The older man's home in Cape Disappointment, Washington was just big enough for the three of them, seeing as he was a slight man himself, Nobody preferred smaller enclosed spaces, and that lead to Schneider basically having free reign of everywhere else. It was the perfect arrangement.

Now this is where we'd go into further detail regarding the home itself, the descriptions of both Numbers and Nobody, but no one wants to read all that, so we're just going to skip forward to a knock on the door!

Numbers answers it, revealing his guest to be - and this is a big surprise to you all, you guys - Johnny Bonecrusher himself, the man, the myth, the legend and all that.

"O-oh, Mr. Bonecrusher, what a, what a pleasant sur-surprise!" Numbers says in his moderately cheery if not constantly stuttering diction.

They exchange handshakes as the elder man ushers The Johnny inside.

JBC looks around the humble abode. "Oh, hey, your place is still intact, that's a good sign."

Numbers chuckles, "Yes, y-yes, we're doing just fine here. Maxwell's cer-certainly been helpful around the, you know, around the old homestead. He and Joe get along, they get along just fine."

Johnny's eyes widen, "Uh, really?"

Numbers just keeps walking along down a hallway. Along the way, he passes by Joe Nobody, sitting in his own modest room with the door open.

"O-oh, Joe, Joe, do you, do you want to say hello? Johnny's here!"

"No."

"Okay then!"

And they walk on past, towards another room.

Johnny looks back, trying not to be insulted at Joe's taciturn demeanor. "Talkative guy there!"

"Oh, that's just, uh, that's just his way. He was being extra social to-today, seeing as his door was, was open."

"Huh."

Finally, they reach the door at the end of the hall. Numbers quietly knocks on it, then pauses to cup an ear to the door. "Uhh, Maxwell? You, you've got a visitor!"

Suddenly there's a commotion coming from inside the room. Glass shattering, metallic clanging, a symbol being struck, all sorts of things one doesn't want to hear coming from a room in their own home. But Numbers doesn't seem concerned at all.

And moments later, the mammoth, the myth, the local legend bursts through the door, looking as burly and wily-eyed as ever. He's got a bag packed, and his forceful movements... well... force The Johnny and Numbers out of the way.

"No need fer no weepy reunions, John-John, I'm up to speed, and that speed's 290 em pee haitch-HAAAAAAAAAAAAA HA HA HA HA HAAAA!!!!"

He waves at Joe as he passes by, "See ya in the funny pages, Joey!"

"Whatever..."

Then, right at the entryway door, Maxwell turns back, "Let's hustle, Mr. Bossman! We've got a triple threat match ta take care of!"

Johnny just looks at Numbers and shrugs, "Well, that was easy. Thanks for your help, Mr. Numbers. We're gonna go kick some fuckin' ass now, if you don't mind."

"O-oh, no, not at all. I'll, I'll keep his room the, the way he, uh, the way he left it."

Numbers looks into said room, and gasps ever so faintly. "Maybe a, a little cleanup might be in order..."

And, seeing as he's now lost in thought, JBC decides to leave the old man in said state. He doesn't bother say goodbye to Joe.

Later: The scene is now at a local gym, where The Portland Madman can be seen in the background constantly running up to the punching bag, delivering a hefty BIIIIG Boot each time. In the foreground, we have The #1 Hit-Maker himself, dressed to the nines, so to speak, with mic in hand.

"Six feet, five inches tall. Two hundred and eighty-five pounds of twisted steel. Some call him The Portland Madman in hushed tones like I did just there, others sensibly refer to him as "Perfectly Sane", but no matter how you slice it, he's Maxwell Schneider, and he's baaaaad to the booooone!"

Schneider backs up and, with a scream, runs forward and leaps onto the bag, instantly yanking it from the ceiling.

"God dammit!!!" someone screams off-camera.

Johnny winces but doesn't dare turn around to see what happened.

He clears his throat and continues, "Uh, and, uh... The PWP is back with a vengeance, and what better way to get the party going in the new year than with pro wrestling's partiest animal, my man behind me... fuckin'... costing me MONEY! But never mind that. That's what he does best. Just imagine, though, if he has no regard for a poor boxing bag, what chance do you think a person standing across from him in the ring has?"

Schneider walks up to The Johnny with the boxing bag in his arms, gnawing at it.

"Maxwell's a very dangero- Jesus Christ, Maxwell, get that out of your mouth, you don't know where it's been!"

"It was hangin' a bit ago!"

JBC shakes his head, "Gimme that thing, just, just give it to me."

"O-kay!" Schneider exclaims as he tosses the bag at his manager with no warning. Johnny catches it but it knocks him to the ground and out of the shot. Schneider looks off at where JBC fell, looking a bit worried, before shrugging it off and facing the camera once more.

"Jan-u-ary 23rd, 2016, ol' Maxie-poo's gonna return ta the ring, his home away from his home away from home, and I'm gonna have the privilege of puttin' a guy like Ryder Blade into traction! What kinda guy's gotta be sponsored by an energy drink company, I asks ya! Don't you know energy drinks are bad fer you, kids?! Just say no! Hey, I'll do it for you, when I put my boot through his spindly torso! Yer a sugar merchant and I'm the taxman lookin' ta collect on back payments! A couple pints of blood'll do... for now-HAAAAAAAAAAAAA HA HA HA HA HAAAA!!!"

Johnny then comes back into the shot still recovering from being winded.

"And it ain't no triple threat without a third wheel, which is where this Savannah lady comes in."

Schneider pauses, looking confused. He turns to The Johnny and whispers, "What do we know about her?"

Johnny just shakes his head a bit and shrugs, "She's, uh, she's around! She's been competing here all this time! But the PWP's website doesn't have any bio on her. She, uh, oh, that's right, she likes to wear see-through shirts! That's something!"

JBC is lost in thought, stroking his chin and smirking. Meanwhile, Schneider's mouth is agape as he glares at his manager. He then shakes it off, and turns back to the camera.

"Well, if that's your way of distractin' guys like me, then sorry, lady, but I ain't here fer lovin', I'm here fer fightin', and you better be too, 'cuz I'm fixin' ta leave the Full Sail Arena a winner, and then get that much closer ta that bee-you-tiful PWP Championship ta compliment my Brass Knuckles belt!

That's my New Year's resolution, folks: get to the top of the PWP and make my buddy Johnny here proud! Winter Park, Florida's the place where it allllll begins, and where it ends, nobody knows! But I know! I really do! But I ain't tellin' nobody, so forget it!

For now, Team Johnny's gonna focus on smackin' the taste outta Ryder Blade's cavity-filled mouth, then, yeah, sorry ta say but, we're gonna have ta rub you out too, Savannah! It ain't personal with you, it's just how it's gotta be! I ain't wrestled in a year, but you'll both know that that don't mean jack, jack! I ain't no wrasslin' machine or nothin', but you wind me up enough, and I won't stop, can't stop, until I've cleaned house... and I ain't gonna waste no time, 'cuz I ain't bein' paid by the hour over here-HAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HA HA HA HA HAAAAA!!!"

Schneider laughs right into the camera before stomping off back into the background. Johnny looks back at his man before inhaling deeply and shaking his head.

"The wrestling world's been without The Portland Madman for far too long now, and, if I may... lemme make one thing... PERFECTLY CLEAR:"

Aha, and here we thought that we'd never hear that amazing catch-phrase of his!

"2016 is the Year of the Monkey, yes, and what bigger, badder monkey to have his day than 'Perfectly Sane' Maxwell Schneider? And Blade, Savannah, oh boy is my man gonna go ape-shit on you two! Just like he said, it's just how it's gotta be! This is merely Phase One of a multi-Phase plan, and we're not about to lie down to you two."

Johnny lowers his shades (yes, he was wearing shades indoors, kinda douchey, I'll admit) so he can look straight into the camera.

"Believe that!"

And with that, The #1 Hit-Maker goes off to have to get an earful from the owner of the gym who's none too pleased with the vandalization of his establishment.

THE END.

Last Edit: Dec 29, 2015 18:13:19 GMT -6 by Deleted

savannah
PWP Competitors

Posts: 35

PWP 18: Triple Threat match Jan 6, 2016 9:54:32 GMT -6

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Post by savannah on Jan 6, 2016 9:54:32 GMT -6

Faline leaned back and nursed her second drink. One thing she could say about having a Boxing Day Mayhem, it meant that she was able to get away from the frigid Northwest and into the unusually warm Miami weather.

Santa had been very good to Faline to close out this year, starting with the chance to impress against two of the upper echelon of the EHWF in Aubree and Mazzio, to the announcement that the next Mayhem was not going to occur for another two weeks, giving Faline a chance to relax in the Florida sun!

A third present had slipped itself under the tree for her when she wasn’t paying attention- the announcement of PWP’s card for the upcoming month’s show.

But that show wasn’t for another three or so weeks, plenty of time for a vacation... and maybe a bit of fun.

Faline jumped as her phone went off just as she was starting to give a particularly studly man at the bar a good impression that she was available and willing. She blushed a little at the jump, picking up the phone and keying it to answer almost without looking at the screen to see who it was.

“I hope this is important. I was about to get an early start on my New Year’s resolution.”

“Well, since you’re not in a ring I’m sure it’s not the one where you win gold again- “Velvet Grey purred from the other end of the connection, “so which one are you working on?”

Faline smiled as the guy at the bar took notice of her. “The one where I make up for waiting for Tim to show up all those months.” She gave him a wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there in time for the ball to drop- after I drop his.”

She heard Velvet chuckle on the other end. Velvet had been urging Faline to give up on Tim’s ever returning for months. The holidays had been a relief to not only Faline, but all of the girls at the Erotique Desires club she knew. The ones who all loved her and hated to see her miserable.

Velvet then sobered. “Before you start to measure him up, you might want to check the PWP website. One of your opponents in this month’s show just posted a vid.”

“Hold on a sec…” Faline switched from the phone, and used the hotel’s Wi fi to connect to the web site, downloading the file with ease.

Moments later she was ignoring the guy and was up and on her way back to her room to pack!

++++++

“Let’s start this out helpful. Schneider, fire your manager. He’s an idiot.”

Fade in on the basement ring at the Erotique Desires gentleman’s club. Scattered about the ring are the tools of a hardcore fighter, some bloodied, some broken. In the corner stands Savannah- bruised and battered, but not broken or bowed-gazing at the camera evenly as she rests. She’s dressed in her usual ring wear- none of which is ‘see through’ by the way.

“Then again, he’s a perfect match for you, since you seem to have lost a load in the lobe lottery yourself. I mean, neither one of you can think of actually looking me up on the fucking website to see if I had a bio up? And then glaze over that fact by letting everyone know your idiotic prepubescent fantasies? Pathetic.”

She shakes her head and sighs.

“Okay, since I can’t depend on you guys to actually, you know, read I’m gonna go over it real quick. I’ll try to use small words so you won’t get lost.”

A small smirk crosses her lips.

“What can I say? First off I come by my chosen profession honestly. My best friend and I met trying to knock each other’s teeth out in grade school. When I was a teenager and rebellious I used to sneak out of the house and go looking for trouble. Senior Skip Day that friend and I spent getting an...”

Savannah chuckled.

“...an intimate introduction to professional wrestling, and in particular a couple of beefy ring warriors. Tried to be a ‘good girl’ after high school- went to college, got a degree. Even fell in love and got married- although I found out the asshole was only making time with me because of my dad, so I busted his balls both literally and financially in the divorce settlement.”

She looks thoughtful, maybe even a bit grim.

“Moped about for a bit after that, until my friend beat some sense into me. Got back in shape, started looking for trouble again. Got discovered by a friend of that friend who got me professionally trained and signed up for my first gig- and the rest is history!”

A smile breaks across that face as she finishes her tale and relaxes in the corner a bit.

“People keep telling me my bio is a bit sparse in the tech department. Mostly generic terms and stuff, not many signature moves and finishers. That’s because I’m only a wrestler of late. Otherwise I am a fighter- a brawler. My favorite move is to knock you down, get on top and then beat the shit out of your face until you stop moving! That pretty much is my signature and finishing move all in one- or at least it was until the people who handle me helped me tack on a few more.

Savannah left the corner again, pacing.

“Okay, now that we’ve gotten that cleared up let’s talk about ring attitude- or at least what you think I’m bringing when we meet. When I enter that ring on the 23rd I’m not going to be there just to be eye candy. Maybe the suits in the back think that, but me? I’m coming out there with only one thought- making the most of my showing and beating the crap out of anyone who stands in my way of winning!”

Savannah nearly growled at the camera.

"Especially you, Schneider. Especially now. You say you want to rub me out? You're not the first to say that, and yet I'm still here! You want to try to be the first to succeed? All I can say is beware of the claws when you come after the Wild Cat!"

Savannah shrugged and looked apologetic.

“I'm sorry, Ryder. I’ve read your bio and you’re going to be a fun fight on any other occasion. And usually I try to keep these things even in my lashing out. But this was just too stupid not to respond to immediately. Needless to say you’re about to get a whole lot of shit that you don’t deserve, just because you’re in the ring with him. My advice to you is to sit back and enjoy the show while I paint the ring with Schneider’s blood. Then, after I get my jollies just try to steal the kill from me!”

Savannah smiled evilly.

“Just remember that I’m still going to have plenty left in the tank to paint the ring with you as well!”

The X
PWP Competitor

Posts: 4

PWP 18: Triple Threat match Jan 19, 2016 16:52:17 GMT -6

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Post by The X on Jan 19, 2016 16:52:17 GMT -6

MIKE

Sprintex HQ, New York City

January 17, 2016 8:51 AM

When I enter the room, X is talking in his sleep. I can't hear what he's saying, but there's just enough light where I can see his lips moving and his hands going all crazy, running all over the place. The way them things is moving, ain't no doubt what that boy be dreaming 'bout, neither.

And sure enough, as I move closer to the bed, I finally get to make out what he saying:

'You want the X, babe? Huh?! The X is alllll yours, babe...'

I go to laugh, then cover up my mouth real quick so I don't wake X up. This shit's too good to cut short.

'Yeah, Nicky...just like that, babe...yeaaaahhh...'

This mo'fucka enjoying himself. Can't say I blame him, neither - I had a babe like Nicole, I be all up in there too. I almost feel bad for doing what I'm 'bout to do, but ain't no other way about it - Boss said wake X up, and when Boss tells you do something, you get yo' punk ass in gear and do it.

'Sorry, X', I whisper, as I pull my leg back and send it crashing into the side of the mattress.

'Buzz off, bruh...The X and his lady are in the middle of somethin'!' X turns the other way and tries to go on dreaming, and normally I'd just let homeboy wake up on his own. Like I said, though - Boss says he wants X up early, you go and wake X up early. If you don't, it's on your ass. And I don't know 'bout you, but I like my ass.

'X!' I kick the bed again, and this time X rolls over and opens his eyes. 'Wake the hell up, homie!'

'Dude!' X sits up in bed, rubbing his eyes. 'What's the big idea, yo? It's Sunday! The X needs his beauty sleep, bruh!'

'Your Dad said to wake you up. He wants you to have breakfast with him.'

X sits up a little straighter and picks up his phone to check the time. 'At nine AM?! On a Sunday?! You gotta be joking, Big Dogg!'

'Does it look like I'm jokin'?' I try to look as serious as I can, and point at my face. X gets the message.

'Duuuuuuudeeeee...' He rolls over and sits on the edge of the bed. 'X-Dad be trippin'! This ain't even a work weekend, yo!' He puts his feet into these Pokemon slippers he got in England and rubs his eyes. 'This better be good...'

He puts on his Pats t-shirt - the one with 'BLADE - 69' at the back - but no pants. You ain't gonna see me turn up for breakfast with Boss in my boxers any time soon - but then again, I ain't X. Homeboy can get away with a hell of a lot of shit that me and Kyrill can't. That's why he the Boss's...I guess son?...and we just the security dudes.

'You ready to roll, 'b'?' X is checking himself in the mirror, the cocky-ass mo'fucker.

'Huh?! Oh...yeah.'

'Good. Boss gotta be gettin' trigger-happy right about now. We take much longer, shit bound to blow up in our faces.' I open the bedroom door and lean up against it, holding it open for him. 'Let's go.'

And we do.

DAD

Sprintex HQ, New York City

January 17, 2016 8:58 AM

'About damn time', I call out, as Mike and Ryder hurry into the dining room, the latter still only half-dressed. 'Two more minutes of watching Kyrill eating and I would have been ready to start shooting people.' I point to my right, where the second member of my security team – a Russian import roughly the size and width of the Kremlin – is busy dripping hot butter all over his shirt and tie.

'Mmmhmhmmmm', he offers, pointing to his half-eaten piece of toast. He reaches into the plate in front of him and picks up another piece, holding it out towards Mike. 'Mhmhm?'

Mike laughs, stepping forward to take the piece of toast. 'You a fuckin' slob, dude, you know that?'

'Mhmmh.' Kyrill shrugs, his attention already back on his breakfast. Mike, however, chooses not to indulge, instead finishing his piece of toast quickly and resuming his position behind Ryder. I've always known my Chief of Security to take his assignment of protecting the Sprintex Energy spokesperson very seriously, but this is ridiculous.

'For fuck's sake, Mike! Get some coffee!' I gesture towards the breakfast table, where Kyrill – much less mindful of his duties when inside Sprintex HQ – is still happily pigging away.

'You sure, boss?' I can tell by Mike's tone that he's anticipating a reprimand. I wave him off.

'Sure. Who are you protecting Ryder from in here, anyway? His shadow?'

This finally manages to lighten up the mood, as Mike lets out a guffaw and moves over to join Kyrill. Soon, the two of them are absorbed in the task of buttering toast, leaving Ryder to receive my undivided attention.

'What's the deal, X-Dad?' Ryder sounds as sulky as your average eight-year-old being made to eat their greens. 'You know The X likes to catch up on his sleep on Sundays! What's with the wake-up call?'

'I just thought you'd like to share a father-and-son breakfast for once, Ryder', I state, but I can see he doesn't buy it.

'Yeah, right. You telling The X the only reason you had Big Dogg wake him up at stupid o'clock is so he could have breakfast early?' The funny thing is, when I first plucked him from the obscurity of the Northwestern independent wrestling scene, about a year ago now, the young man sitting in front of me would have bought that as a perfectly plausible excuse to be roused at nine AM on a Sunday morning; all it would take would be careful wording. The fact that he is blatantly calling me out on it now is a perfect testament to how much he – we – evolved since then.

I sigh, shake my head, make a show of shrugging. 'Can't get anything past you anymore, eh, Ryder?' I attempt a half-smile, and it works. 'You're right. I didn't just bring you down here so we could have breakfast together. I have something I want to talk to you about.'

'And it couldn't wait 'till lunchtime or something?' Ryder is still sulking, but his tone has softened enough to where I know his mood will soon pass.

'No', I retort. 'Time is of the essence.' I reach towards the chair beside me and pick up a manila envelope, which I slide towards my erstwhile son. I tap it twice with my right index finger. 'Open that.'

Ryder promptly does, frowning as he begins to study the contents within. Usually, an envelope like this will contain information about an upcoming opponent, but the one this morning is a little different; the one this morning contains information about an entire company.

'Pro Wrestling Project?' Ryder's frown deepens as he holds up one of the print-outs in the envelope and turns it towards me. 'What's up with this, X-Dad? We're not...' His tone suddenly takes on a note of apprehension, once again making him sound about eight. '...we're not leaving VoW, are we?'

I shake my head reassuringly. 'Not a chance, Champ. You really think I'd cut the Xcellent Champion's Xcellent streak short like that?'

'It's called the #NeverendingStreak, Dad', Ryder corrects, the anxiety thankfully gone from his voice. 'But if we ain't leaving VoW, why are you showing The X all this stuff about this Pro Wrestling Project or whatever?'

'Because they have a show coming up', I explain. 'And you're on it.'

It takes Ryder a moment to process this information, during which he simply stares at me, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, looking not unlike Kyrill's younger, fitter brother. Eventually, however, he is once again able to think coherently enough to articulate:

'...for real?'

I nod. 'I should know. I signed you up myself.'

Ryder's jaw falls even further towards the floor, but this time around, his cognitive abilities do not abandon him. Much to the contrary, in fact.

'But X-Dad!! When The X signed up to King of the Cage, you had a total cow!'

'That was different', I point out. 'First of all, you went behind my back. Second of all, you signed up to have multiple matches – multiple cage matches – all on the same night. This is only one match, and it's an invitational. No cages, no deathmatches, no stipulations of any kind. So I'm more than okay with it. It'll be an excellent showcase for Sprintex and its Champion.'

'Heh...Xcellent', Ryder quips, the explanation seemingly enough to appease him. 'The X sees what you did there, X-Dad.'

'Good'. My ward's attention is no longer on me, however; Ryder has gone back to studying the available information about PWP, and is now frowning again.

'Three matches?!' He looks up at me, surprised. 'What kind'a Little League place did you sign The X up for, X-Dad?'

I can't help but chuckle. 'Little League?! Ryder, you of all people should know better than to judge a book by its cover. PWP has three matches on that card because they want to. If they wanted, they could have gotten enough people to fill up a Pay-Per-View sized card. They're one of the highest-repped places going today!'

'Oh yeah?' Ryder is clearly less than convinced. 'How come The X ain't ever heard about it, then?'

'They don't promote a whole lot, from what I gathered. It's kind of an invite-only deal. Plus, they only have shows once in a blue moon. But I bet you heard of some of the people who wrestled there the last few times they held an event.'

'Oh yeah? Like who?'

'Let's see...how about Nina Stokes? Artemis Kaiser? Whiskey Ayano?' The name-dropping is clearly having an effect – with each additional name, Ryder's expression gradually changes from smugly skeptical to genuinely impressed.

'Whoa', he utters softly, in a close approximation of Keanu Reeves. 'And they were all at this place?'

'At some point or another, yeah.' I allow myself a half-smirk. 'Convinced yet?'

'Yeah...whoa.' Ryder slumps back in his chair, seemingly still wrapping his head around the sudden change in paradigm. 'And...and they're gonna be there for this show that The X is on?'

'No.' Ryder heaves an audible sigh of relief. 'When you go there, you'll be facing a girl named Savannah and someone named Maxwell Schneider. Their files are somewhere in there, too.' I wave towards the pile of papers, but for once Ryder is ahead of me; the stapled sheafs of paper detailing the main traits and history of each of his opponents are already in his hand.

'Look at this ugly dude', he laughs, as he studies Maxwell Schneider's. 'Guy looks like he came out of an elephant's butthole on Taco Tuesday!' He flips over to Savannah's, and predictably changes his tune. 'She's a babe, though! SCHWING! Xcellent Champion approved!'

'Nicky better not find out you be lookin' at other girls, X', Mike pipes up, for the first time since starting breakfast. ''Less you tryin' to get her to break up with you...'

'Hey yo!' Ryder protests. 'This ain't like that, Big Dogg. This is business, yo! Nicky looks at a lotta dudes when she's scouting them for her matches, too. Don't mean she wants to get with them! It's cool.'

Mike shrugs. 'Whatever, dawg. Just don't say I ain't warned ya.' He takes one last bite of toast and looks up at me. 'So, boss, when you thinkin' of shooting this video?'

'Since the show's on the twenty-fourth, I was thinking maybe today, or tomorrow', I reply. 'Can you set that up?'

'Sure thing, boss. No sweat.'

'Whoa, whoa, whoa', Ryder cuts across, eyeing me suspiciously. 'The twenty-fourth of what?'

I give Ryder the most placid of stares, secretly enjoying myself. 'January, of course...!'

Ryder snorts, a sound of disbelief masked as derision. 'C'mon, X-Dad. Quit joshing. The X knows the show is not in six days!'

'It is in six days', I state, matter-of-factly. 'You need to learn to prepare for matches on short notice. One of these days, you're going to stop knowing who your opponents are going to be in advance. When that happens, I want you to be prepared. This is the perfect opportunity for you to learn to adapt on the fly.'

'So let The X get this straight', Ryder insists, 'you booked The X to fight two people he's never seen or heard of, on a show happening in six days?'

'Yup.' I try not to let my shit-eating grin grow too wide. 'And it's in Florida. So we need to take off the day before. Which means...' Oops, it grew wider! '...you should probably start practicing right about now. Clock's ticking, Ryder...'

I lean back and relish in the sight of my ward – for once – completely at a loss. To say Ryder looks uncertain would be an understatement – it would be a far more accurate assessment to say he looks as though the sky has just begun to fall, and he is the only person around to avert disaster. It is a stark contrast to the Xcellent Champion's usual smug, cocksure demeanor, and one which it gives me immense pleasure to behold.

'Payback's a bitch, Ryder', I think, no longer concerned about the smirk on my lips spreading. 'And now, we're even.'

RYDER

Sprintex HQ, New York City

January 19, 2016 3.45 PM

Max Schnauzer's so ugly, his Mom thought he was a Garbage Pail Kid.

Ha! Good one, X-Man! You're on fire today, bruh!

Savannah?! Are they having The X fight a whole city?

HA! That one's good too! You're on a roll, dude!

'X!'

Aw, come ON, man! The X was just getting his groove here!

Whatever, back to this...whatever Big Dogg wants can probably wait a few min--

'X!'

Oh, give The X a BREAK!

'Take a walk, Big Dogg! The X is on a roll here!'

'Your Dad says if you ain't down here in thirty seconds, he gon' send Charles up there to get yo' ass!'

Whoa. X-Dad's going for the big guns. Guess The X better get his butt downstairs, before he gets trapped in an armbar for half an hour. C-Dogg's holds ain't no laughing matter!

'I knew bringing up Charles would light a fire under your ass', X-Dad says as soon as The X enters the Sprintex HQ living area. The X ain't really sure why, but his Xcellent Dad has been acting kind'a trippy the whole day. Like he knows something he ain't telling The X. The X doesn't like it one bit.

Right now, though, X-Dad sounds totally normal, as he talks to The X's security dudes:

'You boys ready?'

'Hold on a minute, boss', Big Dogg says. He's fiddling with his tablet, so The X guesses we're going to be shooting right here at home. That's cool with him – Big Dogg is a bitching cameraman. The X always likes it when those hairdressing hotties at video places get all up in his business, but hey – you can't win 'em all, bruh. Besides, The X isn't single anymore – and if Big Dogg's right about anything, it's that the X-Babe wouldn't like to know The X had had a bunch of other chicks messing with his hair and stuff.

'Yo! Earth to X!'

Say what?! 'Say what?!'

'We ready to go, homie. You ready?'

How's this dude gonna ask The X that? 'Big Dogg...please...The X was born ready.'

'Alright. It's all you, bro. Do ya thing, yo.'

The X gives the camera his best knock-'em-dead grin. ''Sup Xcellentologists. You know who this is...' Wait, do they know?! This is a different company, yo! Maybe they DON'T know who this is! 'CUT!!!'

'Damn, X! What up, yo? How you gon' stop five seconds in like that?!'

'The X changed his mind. He doesn't wanna start like that. Just start over.'

Big Dogg facepalms, and behind him, the Xcellent Dad does, too. X-Dad even does it like that Star Trek dude, with both hands. The only one who doesn't facepalm is K-Dogg. Maybe he doesn't get what was going on – K-Dogg is a pretty slow dude. Or maybe he just doesn't care. Or he doesn't care because he doesn't get what was up. Either way, he doesn't facepalm.

'Aight', Big Dogg grumbles once he's done facepalming. 'But ain't no way I'mma keep startin' over every five seconds! You dig?'

'The X digs, Big Dogg. That was the last time.'

'It better have been.' Big Dogg puts his tablet back in front of his face, plays around on it for like ten seconds, then goes: 'Rollin'!'

'What up, PWP? This is the X-Man, comin' at you from the most Xcellent secret Sprintex headquarters!'

The X gives the camera a frown, like somebody just said something to him.

'What's that? You never heard of the X-Man..?!? VoW's most Xcellent Champion?! The longest reigning Champion in HISTORY of the company? MISTER MAIN EVENT? MISTER EIGHTEEN-AND-ONE?! The owner of the #NEVERENDINGSTREAK?! Undefeated in FOURTEEN MATCHES?! Tchaaaaa!'

The X means that – how can you NOT have heard of him?! Like, for real, yo!

'Anyhow...now you know. And knowing is half the battle.'

References. The X has 'em.

'But now that you know who The X is, The X bets you're wondering what he's doing in PWP. The X bets you're thinking 'this dude ain't from around here – how's he gonna walk in on our turf and beat our people, yo?' 'Cause The X is totally gonna beat your people. Like, duh.'

Big Dogg gives The X a thumbs-up from behind his tablet, and The X grins at him – and at the camera.

'Well, see, after The X became a household name at VoW and put Sprintex Energy Drink on the map...'

All of a sudden, The X kinda wishes he had a Sprintex Shake right now, but nobody remembered to make one before the shoot. Bummer.

'...the X-Dad – that's the righteous dude who created Sprintex, and The X guesses created him...'

X-Dad pulls a face when The X says this, for some reason, but The X is groovin'. No way he can stop now! Plus, no need to make Big Dogg any more mad.

'...thought it would be a good idea for The X to spread his awesomeness to other promotions. And THAT...is why the one, the only, THE X, RYDER BLADE...is gonna be appearing on PWP's Year of the Project show on January 24th. By the way, great name, dudes. Doesn't sound like a horoscope or anythin'.'

Are those dudes at PWP gonna get The X's jokes? The Xcellentologists are used to them, but these guys aren't Xcellentologists...

...aw, whatever, man. The X is just gonna do him. If they don't get it, it's on them.

'Anyway...this show. The X is gonna be in the opener, which is mondo dumb-o, 'cause like The X just told you dudes, he's MISTER MAIN EVENT. But whatever, you guys want your show stolen on the first match, or whatever...it ain't The X's problem.'

The X shrugs, just to rub it in.

'Anywho...in his triumphant debut for PWP, The X is apparently gonna be facing Mad Max and Savannah. So...an entire freakin' city and a dude from a movie? Way to stack the odds, PWP!'

Jokes. The X also has 'em.

'For real, though...The X understands why he's in this match. The X is a good looking dude. If he wasn't in there, Savannah would be alone in the ring with Mad Max. And no offence or anything, but that is one ugly-lookin' dude. Like, 'PS4 graphics' ugly.'

BURN!

'So of course Sav needs someone there to keep that freakamongous distracted so he can't get all up in there with the groping or whatever. The X gets it. And Sav? You can chill, babe. The X knows what it's like to have a mad psycho stalker after you. He had this ex a while back...hooo boy!'

The X does a hand gesture like he just burnt himself. Thinking of Psycho Stacy kind of makes him do that.

'And The X guesses having an ugly dude after you when you're a chick is like when a fat chick is after you when you're a guy. And The X knows that's no fun. So, like The X said, babe...you can chill out. The X is gonna take care of Mad Max for ya.'

The X winks at the camera and hopes Nicky won't be watching this video any time soon.

'But that still leaves the two of us, doesn't it, babe? Now, a while back, The X would'a asked you out to dinner and that would'a been that. But The X is taken now, and the X-Babe can be pretty jelly...so The X guesses he's gonna have to beat you...'

The X sighs, then he remembers something.

'By the way, babe...The X is kind'a confused. Apparently you got a bunch of experience and stuff...but you're not, like, 500 years old or whatever. Did you start wrestling when you were like, twelve or something?'

Jokes. The X still has 'em.

'Anyway, don't answer that...you can tell The X once he's done kickng Mad Max's butt for ya and then pinning you. That is...if you can still talk and stuff after that.'

The X smirks again.

'Now, The X knows what you two are thinking. You and all the other dudes and dudettes at PWP. 'Man, this dude is lame! How many times have we seen dudes saying they're gonna beat everyone and be king shizz? Get a clue, poser!' And that's totally legit. 'Cause there ARE a bunch'a posers out there saying that, and then getting their butts kicked so bad, they can't walk for a year. What you don't know, though, is that The X is not like that. The X can back up everything he says in the ring. Ask Psycho Stacy. Ask Patrick 'Pretty Jealous' Jones. Ask Tyler Snore. Ask anyone at VoW. They'll tell you. The X can back up his stuff. That's why he's the Xcellent Champion. That's why he's undefeated from thirteen matches. That's why he's broken every record there was to break at VoW, and set some of his own. 'Cause The X isn't all mouth, like those other dudes out there. They get their butts kicked. The X is usually the one doing the kicking. And when PWP hits Florida on January 24...'

Take it home, X-Man!

'...when PWP hits Florida on January 24...The X is gonna be the one doing the kicking.

And you're all gonna remember his name.'

'NAILED IT!' The minute he turns off the tablet, Big Dogg is walking over to give The X a man-hug. X-Dad gives The X one, too, and K-Dogg gives him a high-five, 'cause he knows if he tried to hug The X he'd put him in the hospital. K-Dogg's a big dude, yo.

'So...you're not mad at The X for screwing up the video anymore?'

'You trippin', dawg?' Big Dogg has this big, goofy smile on his face. 'That ain't even a thing no more. That was bitchin'!'

'Hey...it's what The X does!' The X winks, and Big Dogg smiles.

'True that. Now c'mon...I'mma make you the biggest damn Sprintex Shake you ever seen!'

He puts an arm around The X, gives him a punch in the shoulder, and starts chanting:

'WHO'S GONNA ROCK PWP? RYDER BLADE FROM NEW YORK CITY!

WHO'S GONNA ROCK PWP? RYDER BLADE FROM NEW YORK CITY!'

He gestures for The X to join in.

'WHO'S GONNA ROCK PWP? RYDER BLADE FROM NEW YORK CITY!

WHO'S GONNA ROCK PWP? RYDER BLADE FROM NEW YORK CITY!'

K-Dogg starts clapping to the beat, and then X-Dad himself joins in.

'WHO'S GONNA ROCK PWP? RYDER BLADE FROM NEW YORK CITY!