_____________________

 

N$V: CLEMMENS
"Cult of Superiority."

The Fortress of Complex of Superiority…

Shawn Marsh rushes into the Supermarket yanking Bronwen inside and bars the door. He’s got the Universal Title over his shoulder and has a subway sandwich in his clutches. He’s sweaty and desperate. He begins to cry as he unwraps his subway sandwich and takes a bite.

“Poor Mucus and Craxx. They were so young. So innocent.” Suddenly Shawn’s face purses up and he spits out the bite of sandwich, “This has pickles!” Shawn throws the sandwich down, “Mucus! Craxx! You stupid fucks!”

Bronwen looks around, “What is this place?”

“It’s my super awesome, super cool hideout. The Fortress of Complex of Superiority. I have TV, and video games, oh and some room temperature beverages, help yourself.” Shawn Marsh smiles.

“It’s kind of a dump.” Bronwen admits.

“Hey! Fuck you!” Shawn growls, “This place is cooler than you and everybody else, well except for me, Shawn Marsh, the Universal Champion!”

“You just stole it.” Bronwen laughs.

“No! It's rightfully mine!  I don't care who Shawn Walsh thinks he is.” Shawn Marsh frowns and kicks a rock. “I love me, don’t know what his problem is.”

“You’re a giant Tool.” Bronwen laughs.

“Am not a giant tool.” Shawn sticks out his bottom lip and mopes. Then he pulls the Super-Dro bag out of his pocket and shakes it out, “Oh, what is this?” Shawn Marsh smiles, “Some of that funky ganja?”

“I’d be careful with that.” Bronwne warns him.

“I’m going to smoke it. Then I’m going to break your boyfriends in half when they get here!” Shawn Marsh smiles a demonic one, pulling out his pipe.

Yeah, the pipe that looks like a dick and balls, where you put the bowl in the pubic hairs. He sticks a bowl of the Super-Dro into it and smiles as he holds the penis tip to his lips and takes a hit. “Mmmm, tasty weeds!”

One of Shawn’s ears turns into a Donkey’s ear but Bronwen acts oblivious.

“Want a hit?” Shawn asks.

“Nah, I don’t do gateway.” Bronwen holds up he hands.

“Suit yourself.” Shawn Marsh takes another hit and this time a donkey’s tail sprouts out of his behind.

“Oh boy.” Bronwen mumbles.

Outside…

“I’ll bash the side of this fucking building in and we’ll fucken break his neck!” Shane says, stalking up to the grocery store.

Seth stops and points, laughing at the sign over the door that reads “The Fortess of the Complex of Superiority: No girls!”

“Are these guys for real?” Seth chuckles.

Shane punches the chained door but only hurts his hand.

“Yowsas! Fuck that HURT!” Shane shakes his hand.

“Yeah, I think that ganj wore off.” Seth shakes his hand only producing a few more grains of sexy-salt.

“Well then.” Shane says, kicking the door off the hindges.

“That’ll do it.” Seth says, walking inside.

“See, I’m pretty super even when I’m normal.” Shane notes.

Shane and Seth walk into the huge grocery store and are immediately taken by the wide open space. Seth walks out and shouts.

“OY”

The “OY” echoes of everything and Shane steps up,

“BRONWEN!”

--RONWEN, --RONWEN, --RONWEN.

Seth smirks, “ECHO!”

“Ha ha, cool.” Shane turns and they high five.

That’s when a Donkey walks out with the Universal Title hanging from its neck. Shane walks up to it and pats it on the head.

“Look, a Jackass.” Shane smiles back to the Donkey, “What’cha doing in here boy?”

The Donkey bites Shane.

“Son of a--” Shane leaps back and the Donkey comes after him, “Fucker!”

“What the hell is a donkey doing in…” Seth blinks and looks back at the jackass, “That can’t be possible.”

Seth scratches his head and then shrugs, “Shawn Marsh is a Jerkoff!”

The Donkey comes to a sliding halt behind Shane and turns its attentions towards Seth. Seth leaps up onto a shelving unit, safe from the Donkey’s limited attack.

“Shane! I think this Donkey is Shawn Marsh.” Seth hollers.

Shane sneaks up behind the donkey and slaps it on the ass.

“Hey jackass!” Shane laughs hard.

“That is enough! You two hateful jerks!” The donkey says.

“Donkeys can’t talk.” Seth.

“Yeah, shut up you stupid Jackass.”

“I am Shawn Marsh! Please, help me.” The Donkey’s lips tremble. “I don’t know what was in that weed but it’s doing some funky shit to me, I just got done eating two bales of hay.” He coughs.

“Give me my title back and we’ll have you fixed.” Shane laughs, making scissors with his index and middle fingers.

“Never!” The donkey runs for the stock room area, disappearing into the darkness.

Seth slips down off the shelving unit and lands on his feet.

“Well shall we go whoop some Donkey ass?” Seth asks.

“I think we shall. Maybe find Bronwen while we’re at it.” Shane nods.

“Yeah, and something to eat too, subway was a baaad idea.” Seth hiccups.

In the stock room area… The Jackass, Shawn Marsh has Bronwen held hostage and is forcing her to light the pipe and hold it to his lips. Bronwen, meanwhile is trying to talk some reason into the mind of this Jackass.

“I really don’t think smoking more of this in your current state is a good idea.” Bronwen speculates.

“Shut up Bitch! I need to get pumped up!” Shawn says as shit free-flows out of his Donkey-ass. “Oh sick, sorry, I can’t help it.”

“Well the effect might become permanent.” Bronwen insists.

“I said shut up!” Suddenly Shawn the Jackass grows into a much larger Jackass only with metal skin.

“Oh shit.”

“That’s right, I am TermaShawn The Donkey.” He shakes his head as his voice now sounds like he’s talking into a box, “Or maybe Darth Donkey. Yeah, that’s cool.”

"More like, Ultra Jackass."  Says Bron

 

N$V: CLEMMENS
"Puke-Ass Knight."

Man oh man.  I was wrong.  I'll admit it right now, I was so wrong about Lucas Knight that I really ought to go back in time and smack myself in the face and tell myself to STOP.  Lucas Knight is nothing more than a carbon copy of Shawn Walsh.  There's no doubt that he represents a Walsh in his prime but he's still just Walsh.  Stuck up, self centered, with a superiority complex.  He praises a god called Chaos but the only real chaos he knows is his own life.  I was wrong to think that Knight was anything more.  I'm going to make up for this lapse in my better judgment.  I'm going to fix this.

Lucas Knight, you've lost all the respect I had for you.  I saw you once and had an incorrect first impression of you.  That's all.  What you're looking at right now is your first beat down.  Yeah, Blue Chipper, A title holder on his first night out.  But I had you pegged wrong.  You're this "victim of circumstance."  It just so happened the one time I read someone wrong would be you and you'd pull a filthy little win out of it.  Sorry pal, now that I am completely deflated by your idiocy I know now that my work on No Cash Value complete.  I know your pall Jaxx wants you to think that I was recruiting you but nah, I was simply greeting you, you little shit.  You are number two--fuckstick, remember that.

I would be out of my mind to bring a self destructive man-child like you into the ranks of No Cash Value.  All you'd be is Sean Starr, Volume Two.  Fuck you.

You little shits and your entertainment.  You film all of your mentally-challenged moments as if they mean something and spread your rhetoric to other fuckbrains just like you.  You are the rotten center of professional wrestling I have been going on and on about.  You sir, represent the filthy stigma that has ruined this sport for real wrestlers like Me.  Fuck you and your cameras and your pro-edited promos.  You're so focused on this mamby pamby bullshit and don't see the fucking big picture shining over you.  The one that says "Your Time Is Over."

It must be grand to be Lucas Knight, elitest.  Oiling up your muscles and smooching at your reflection in the mirror.  The Primetime Title shimmers on your shoulder and when you walk by, people know you've arrived.  You have a smart mouth too and that drives you forward.  You don't ever consider that there might be guys more ruthless than you.  You think you're the owner of cruelty, and you think yours is the only chaos.  Pretty soon, Knight, your matches turn into slaughters.  Even guys that should be a breeze are trying to break your back.  They want to hurt you.  You're still going to beat them, and keep going your merry way...  Then one day you're going to run into someone who will push you beyond your limits of chaos.  You run into the Universal Champion.  You run into Shane Clemmens.  I guarantee--it's better being Shane Clemmens than it is Lucas Knight and I'll make sure of it at Aftershock.

It's on man, you wanted a war and you're getting one.  I'm not the one that painted the target on your back either, you did that yourself.  You marked yourself a dead man the day you decided it would be a good idea to fuck with me.  I know you want it too, you beg so blatantly.  You beg to be crushed.  Yeah, let me be the reason you write a tell all.  Let me be the reason you become an E True Hollywood Story.  Most of all, every time you stare into that camera you see my smiling face watching over you.  I'm going to live inside your nightmares sucka.  This is truth.

Bring your toadie with you when you come to Aftershock, bring Walsh too.  Fuck, bring guns for all I care.  Just show up.  Both of you have camera envy and don't even fucking exist.  The only thing keeping you alive is that precious camera.  Don't worry, this won't turn into a long drawn out thing.  No Cash Value is mere movements away from bringing you and your pals down.  At Aftershock we're going to bring the hammer down on the both of you and we'll make damn sure it's televised.  That's what you guys want, right?  You want to be remembered.  Clawing around, picking on people, laughing with your clique.  Shut the fuck up before I break your fucken record button.

Bitch ass.  Eat a dick.

 

N$V: DRYDEN
"No Cash Value vs. World's Biggest Jackass"

What a predicament!

When we last left them, our heroes had infiltrated the super-duper-ultra-secret hideout of the Complex of Superiority. The scoured the abandoned super-market high and low, and finally found their quarry. Shawn Marsh had forced the kidnapped Bronwen to help him smoke even more of the Super Dro, changing his form from jackass to ULTRA-MEGA-HUGE JACKASS.

“Here we go,” says Shane tersely.

The newly built TerraShawn looms over Bronwen, Shane and Seth, hee-hawing with laughter, thinking the day has been won. Shane and Seth assume fighting positions, circling the beast, thinking of a way to best take it down.

“How the fuck are we supposed to beat this Super Shredder wannabe?” asks Seth to no one in particular. “I’ve never fought a nine foot tall metal jackass before!”

Shane rushes the metallic wonder and throws a hard punch right into its mid-section, the highest Shane can reach, but his knuckles clank on the hardened skin. Shane doubles over, cradling his hurt hand.

TermaShawn screams, “HEE HAW! YOU PUNY FOOL. DARTH DONKEY SMASH!”

The mutant jackass kicks an oversized hoof out, colliding with Shane, sending him backwards, tumbling onto an already broken Pong machine.

“YOU JUST WREAKED MY ENTERTAINMENT CENTER, WEAKLING!” shouts TermaShawn.

Bronwen is fighting against her bindings, and yells at Seth, “Untie me, I can help, you idiot!”

“Have no fear, lady!” Seth says valiantly. “Sexy Seth is here!”

Seth forgets his loss of powers and rushes the looming monster, who is quickly approaching Shane. Seth flings himself up onto the monster’s back, and begins climbing the beast. He sits on TermaShawn’s shoulders and slaps his hands around the jackass’s eyes.

“Haha!” says Seth in victory. “No seeing for you, motherfucker!”

TermaShawn bellows in rage, while Shane is back on his feet. He looks around for a weapon while the jackass begins stomping around, trying to throw Seth off of his back. Seth screams in joy the entire time, holding on like in a rodeo.

“Aha!” exclaims Shane.

Shane finds a long cable that the Complex of Superiority use to autoerotic-asphyxiate themselves and rushes towards the jackass. He spins the cable and begins running around the beast’s trampling feet.

“Yo, Seth!” Shane hollers. “Just like in Empire Strikes Back, bro!”

Bronwen continues to struggle to free her hands while muttering, “Fucking nerds…”

Shane finishes circling TermaShawn and finds footing on the dusty super-market floor. He stands strong as the monster winds himself up in the cable, eventually tripping. Ultra Jackass falls hard, smacking into the floor, the shock sending Seth sailing and colliding into a concrete support beam, knocking him unconscious.

“Shit!” yells Shane, rushing over to check on his friend.

Bronwen finally manages to free her hands, and she rubs her wrists while contemplating her next move. Part of her wants to just leave these idiots here, after all, they completely mucked it up at Subway, while another part of her realizes that this jackass could actually do some damage to the dynamic duo.

The guys don’t seem to be making much headway in their normal states, so Bronwen begins looking around for some sort of help. Suddenly, she notices it-- the dick-shaped bong that TermaShawn forced her to lit for him. She grabs it, and considers smoking Super Dro.

It could give her powers, like Shane and Seth, true. It could also turn her into some sort of silly animal, like it did with Marsh. On top of that, it’s a gross dick bong that a donkey just slobbered all over. She makes her mind up, and she grabs some of the Super Dro that TermaShawn left lying on the ground.

TermaShawn frees his hooves from the cable as Shane shakes Seth but is unable to wake him. The jackass roars in anger and rushes Shane, knocking him to the ground and begins sending hoof after hoof down at him, trying to stamp him to death.

Bronwen knows what she has to do. She quickly packs a bowl into the extremely gay looking pipe and puts the tip to her lips, though feeling revolted the entire time. She lights the bowl, and the weed burns neon green as she takes a deep hit. Suddenly… she begins to feel… different.

TermaShawn keeps trying to stamp the life out of Shane and yells, “HAHAHA NOW IS THE WINTER OF YOUR DISCONTENT!”

Jesus… what a fuckin’ douche.

 

 

N$V: DRYDEN
"White Knight."

Hey, ring the bell, let’s get this round two goin’, aye? So before our wonderful intermission, you people were being thoroughly entertained by my incredibly perceptive musings on Jaxx-y, right? I believe that’s where we left off, right? Jesus, trying to talk sense into that guy is like teaching a special needs class Calculus or some shit. It’s just pointless. Seriously, it’s like our opponents this week have just shut their eyes, plugged their ears and began singing loudly, trying to ignore the obvious-- No Cash Value is the top of the top. We’re a fucking shining beacon in a stable scene of mediocrity, it seems. But that’s alright with us, really it is, because ya see, we don’t mind being the team to beat when it comes to this United Titles tournament. Everyone’s hoping that Order of Chaos somehow manages to beat the enormous odds and leaves Aftershock with a win, because then it could be anybody’s ball game. As of right now, we’ve got this shit on lock, and everybody fuckin’ knows it. So yeah, as fruitless as it may have been, I spent a lot of time attempting to educate Jaxx on the lessons he should have learned the last time we met, that match he fucking got destroyed in which he conveniently seems to forget even happens. I went that whole time and didn’t even consider his teammate, Lucas Knight, because, really… guy doesn’t really seem to be worth my time. But that was before he played the Jaxx game, and his mouth started writing checks that are sure to bounce come time for the match to start.

Knight, I had high hopes for you, I really did. When I heard all the jibbaa-jabba backstage when you first came into the company, I figured you might be something worthwhile. Hell, if I’m not mistaken, you were even considered to be offered a spot in No Cash Value. That shit doesn’t happen too terribly often, that some douche nozzle who wasn’t even proven himself has his name tossed in the hat for consideration for NCV status. But hindsight? That shit is twenty-twenty, get me? Everything turned out for the best, because by the time you actually started doing something as opposed to being just another body of potential, we quickly learned you weren’t worth our fuckin’ time. As it turns out, you were nothing but a fucking carbon copy of Jaxx, and man, that is not a good thing when it comes down to brass tacks. You joined up with him, you chose a losing side, and it’s really because you’re just fuckin’ like him. You came in, people had high hopes, but just like him, you’ve proven yourself to be nothing but a fuckin’ dolt who only thinks you’ve earned that status you keep touting about yourself. Congratulations, you won a title. Big fucking deal, you won a title that won’t mean shit in the grand scheme of things. That alone wouldn’t be so bad, but just the fact that you think it means you’re something special is ridiculous. The Primetime Title? Wow. So impressed here. Seriously. Dude, you think after Aftershock, ya know that night that you’re going to lose to NCV, you think I could grab your autograph? It could go in my collection in between guys like Knife and Daniel Jacobson. In the “really big fucking deals” section.

Not only do you think you’re awesome because you hold a title no one gives a fuck about, but it was your first fucking match, and you haven’t even shown up in a real contest since then. Seriously, dude, you’re on the fast track to greatness here, I can feel it. Honest. I’m not being sarcastic at all. (Okay, I’m definitely being sarcastic as fuck, since you’re too stupid to probably understand that.) This is going to be your second match, the beginning of a path that leads to the United Titles. Shit dude, you’re on track to be the first multiple title holder of F1X… that is, you would be if you weren’t faced with the task of beating two of the highest grade talents in the fucking business, that is. Jesus, I mean, if you had to take a week off after beating Jaxx, Pitt and Starr, what’re you gonna have to do after this match, fucking retire? But then again, you’re probably wondering why you didn’t see me show up in that little match you won for that gold that’s been around your waist so long, your skin’s turnin’ green. Well, there are a few reasons. Yes, I did think Starr would actually show up and win one for NCV, but he didn’t, did he? He proved himself fuckin’ useless, and in the end, he was cut loose. See, why you and yours are content to surround yourselves with the middle-grade talent not fit to wipe my ass, NCV tends to gravitate towards actual talent rather than a bunch of guys who always seem to be playing second fiddle to people better than them. And yeah, another reason I didn’t bother with the Primetime, is, well… it really wasn’t worth my fuckin’ time. You honestly think I haven’t held enough titles in my day? Motherfucker, you really don’t know me at all.

And yeah, I’m aware that when we wipe the floor with you and Jaxx-y boy on Aftershock that it won’t be the end of your world. I mean, shit, Jaxx took his lumps like a man and moved on, didn’t he? He went on to beat lesser people once he realized he couldn’t hang with the likes of me. So yeah, you’re right when you say it’s not gonna be all that bad losing to No Cash Value. Plenty have done it in the past and have gotten on with their lives just fine. The only difference we made, the only real impact NCV puts into opponents, is that we hope they realize their fucking place in the world. In the business. You see, so far, Superiority Complex has proven itself to anything but superior. Shit, you fucks seem to always be at least two steps behind us and what we’re doing. What I’m hoping you’ll learn from this, what you’ll take away from the match at Aftershock, is that maybe it’s time you and your pals stopped trying to play catch up and just be resigned to your place as second (or third or fourth) best. Hopefully once Sunday comes and goes, and you take your fucking loss that’s coming your way, you realize it’s best to leave the real games to the big boys and take your happy ass back to the mid-card where you fuckin’ belong, jackass.

What I find hilarious is something both Jaxx and you are guilty of. You point your fingers, open your mouth and don’t think before you fuckin’ speak. Knight, it’s like your walking around the arena with your eyes closed, just bumping into shit without realizing what the fuck you’re doing or saying. You talk about how all I do is claim “legend” status and blabber on about the past, but have you actually seen me do any of that? Seriously? The only time I ever bring up the past is a situation like this one. You see, I know the past don’t mean shit in the grand scheme of things. The only things that matter is what happens here, now and in F1X. This whole time I’ve been addressing you fuckin’ bozos, I haven’t brought up a single thing about SFT, RWA, Deadly Entertainment or IWE. Not a fucking single iota, and yet, you just can’t seem to wait to open your shithole and give me a fuckin’ history lesson on DRWF and how your shitty little team came to be. Thanks, man, I love having shit I can listen to when I can’t seem to get to sleep, really. You talk about how back then no one could beat you guys and how awesome you were? Congratulations. That must have been great, since all you DRWF guys seem to do here in F1X is fuckin’ lose to me. First Jaxx, then Rayn, and this week I can add you to the list while checking off a number “2” next to Jaxx’s name. So you’ll fuckin’ excuse me if I don’t wet myself with anticipation at the thought of your fabulous fuckin’ career which doesn’t mean shit now that you are just handed title matches and the rest of your crew couldn’t muster a win against a women’s basketball team, for chrissakes.

Knight, the fact is, you have no fuckin’ clue what it’s like to face someone worthwhile. And this week, you get to cut your teeth doing so against two of the best F1X could hope to offer. We’re set apart by something, we’re different from your posse and everyone else in this federation. One thing above all others is the true factor.

Talent.

You’ll get the chance to see what it looks like come Aftershock.

Punk.

 

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