(1) US History Final to cram for. What did she care about a bunch of wig-wearing cherry tree-chopping dead guys, anyway?

(2) Geometry Final that was running her mind ragged

(3) More specimens necessary to complete the set of her Biology assignment on lizards and their amazing regenerative abilities. Ew. Slimy little things.

(4) Character Analysis assignment for English/Lit that most likely wasn’t going to write itself.

With every second ticking down and the pressure of being bombarded by all sides with big words, cellular regeneration and exceedingly complicated theorems, she buried her face in her palms and brought herself to the brink of a light sob. Peering up, the blinking cursor only served to taunt her further, almost imagining the little fucker teasing her with each flash.

"YOU. CAN’T. WRITE. YOU’RE. GONNA. FAIL. HA. HA. HA."

She considered herself lucky that she was even able to narrow her list of options down to one assignment she could put to rest. The Biology assignment, she could just poke her head at that shoddy old pet store down the street and pick up a couple of those retched lizards that made her skin crawl. Her friend, Shelly, swore up and down earlier that day in class she’d let Gaby borrow her notes for Trig. She thought she’d pieced together a nice little study guide to cover all the fine points Mr. Bergman went over for the test, so maybe there was hope yet. She’d use her study breaks, homeroom, and lunch to properly absorb the knowledge of the War of 1812 and the Hero’s Formula. That took care of the little annoyances.

But… goddamn it.

She’d given little to no thought in her final days before the deadline just what she was going to write her story about. Her precious time had been consumed by a multitude of daunting tasks. Assignments, part-time job on the weekends, Cheerleading squad, Mom breathing down her neck, friendsclassboysparitesschoolinfuckinggeneralAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

As her own screams echoed through her head, Gabrielle beat herself about the skull lightly with one of several books she’d been assigned in English/Lit. Thus far in class, her assignments were "okay" to "slightly above average" but that ever-elusive "A" was still just out of reach. She did fine in her other classes and had seen a perfect mark here and there, but this writing thing was a pain in the ass.

Prose.

Theme.

Characters.

Plot.

There was no joy in it for her. You could fluff something up with cornucopia of beautiful words and tie it all together with a neat little bow called symbolism, but such ideas were lost upon her. Now, she realized that she wouldn’t have to write the next Catcher in the Rye or Grapes of Wrath, but her analysis of the character had to be spot-on. Bergman had a reputation for being a notoriously tough grader, but he was a fair man and it was only fitting to bring him something that would make him stand up and take notice of her abilities. Doing this would ensure her GPA would end the year on an excellent note.

Putting her hands behind her head, she looked down at the aforementioned book and wondered aloud.

"Moby Dick, huh? Well, why not? Not like I have any other brilliant ideas. GOOD ones, anyway."

Staring once more at the blinking cursor, Gaby tried to make her way through the cloudy fog of confusion just long enough to put some semblance of an assignment together. No longer was she going to worry about whatever crap twenty-nine other students were clacking on their keyboards at the time. She was trying to earn her own grade, not theirs.

"Captain Ahab…"

That was about as far as she got before folding her arms and staring at the screen longingly.

"Captain Ahab is one of the main characters in the story of ‘Moby Dick.’"

Oh, yeah, THAT was gonna win her a Pulitzer.

Frantically hitting the Backspace key, she deleted each letter and started up again.

"Captain Ahab is a man depicted in the story of ‘Moby Dick’ as being ‘grand and ungodly’ by his peers."

A little better, she thought.

"Grand in the fact that he had a high opinion of himself; almost portraying himself as larger than life. Ungodly because he never once swore fealty to a higher power other than his own."

Nice.

She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. Not a bad start by any means but it’s time for a little break, she decided. She didn’t know how she would get there, but she remained confident she’d input those fantastic words on the pages and walk away from Mr. Bergman’s class with her first "A" just yet.

________--________

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 8th
RAMADA INN, BOSTON, MASS., 2:40 PM

"196… 197… 198… 199… 200!"

On the floor of the hotel suite, rivulets of sweat trickling down his body splashed on the towel beneath his form. At the apex of each sit-up, he kept constant vigil on his television playing various matches with MC Terrible and the Savior. The match being viewed was one of Terrible and Savior's many tag team matches on Massacre in late 2006. A miniscule neon green "MUTE" sign remained displayed in the corner to prevent inane announcer banter from ruining his thought process.

His participation in triple threat matches was few and far in between, but he had to gain every last bit of insight he could on how they was going to operate in a match of this variety. He’d have to inspect every movement on this tape closely, looking for any inconsistencies and chinks in their armor.

Momentarily, he stayed seated up to watch some wrestler drive a Guillotine Legdrop from off the top rope across the throat of the Savior. A smile etched across his face to see him in such agony; the exact kind of agony he would have to put him through to keep the title away from them who he perceived as working for Jonathyn in this master plan of his.

The no name wrestler’s sweaty palms began to wrap around his throat and ebb the life from him as Shawn continued with his routine.

"210… 211… 212… 213… 214…"

"Fuckhead."

Huh?

He stopped his sit-ups and paused to glance around the room. Nobody there but him. He dismissively scoffed and repositioned himself to start his push-ups. Just hearing things again.

"1… 2… 3… 4…"

"You REALLY think this will help you?"

His eyes returned to the television where Savior groined his opponent on the top of the ropes. The loser had no choice but to stop and clutch his own testicles in sympathy pain. The poor bastard.

"Crazy bitch." Back to the workout.

"Crazy bitch that's gonna take your title.."

As he shifted his gaze back to the television, his eyes did not deceive him. Double, triple, quadruple takes were met with the same results. On the screen, the visage of Savior let his devilish smirk shine, making his blood boil.

"You keep underestimating me," Shawn said to… whatever this apparition was while seething. "Everyone in this place keeps looking past me, and I plan to make you pay in spades."

He fended off a second assault by delivering a jaw-shattering Spin Kick – he then tagged in MC Terrible – and MC turned his attention back to the man with title.

"No, YOU keep underestimating everyone else. You treat everyone like they're beneath you. But what you fail to realize is that you're not a God. You're human just like us. You're beatable. Just ask Bigg Rigg and Violater."

That did it. He pushed himself to his feet and pointed an accusing finger at the television, hate burning in his pupils.

"You REALLY don’t want to trade words with me. Not this time. That night was bullshit and the world knows it. Anarchy will be no bullshit. I'll beat you both right in the middle of the ring."

No fear was shown in his eyes. Not a single bit. His control was unwavering and he even allowed his smirk to grow a tiny bit wider just because he sees it pissed him off.

"You couldn't even beat some rookie and a washed up Raziel last week. Face it, Shawn… you’re falling… well, not really falling. You have to amass SOME real success before you take a fall. And even then, you know that you’re taking another one…"

CRASH!

He’d had enough, so Shawn’s trick arms acted up, hurling the TV across the room and watching it explode into hundreds of wires and plastic parts against the wall.

"PAY ATTENTION, BITCHES! THIS IS NOT YOUR XWF ANYMORE! DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

Taking a reprieve from his apparent delusion, The Superwrestler slumped back on the bed with a heavy groan. Shawn, realizing the error of his outrageous aggression, errantly reached an arm out to the nightstand and proceeded to take his wallet from the drawer. There would be many hotel staff to keep quiet, lest he wish to find himself as a "fined and punished" story on the XWF website. He grumbled under his breath as he walked to his closet for a change of non- clothing.

"No way are people gonna call ME KoRe."

"OBSESSION WAS HIS ONLY DRIVE; TREATING THE WHITE WHALE LIKE EVIL INCARNATE, HIS SOLE PURPOSE FOR LIVING WAS TO SLAY THE BEAST THAT TAUNTED HIM MEREL BY EXISTING. SOME EVEN DEDUCE HE WAS DRIVEN TO SHEER LUNACY BECAUSE OF IT."

_______--_______

The following promotion is brought to you... by Shawn Christopher.

"Alright people, you'll have to excuse me cause I'm really not in a good mood.

Now I could stand here and give you all a usual SC hateful diatribe on MC Terrible and the Savior, but my heart wouldn't be in it. Why you may ask? Well sit back, pour yourself a glass of Kool-Aid.. preferably red, and listen up.

Bare with me as I'm gonna break what we call "kayfabe" in this business. I know that's supposed to be a no-no, but I ain't never insulted me fans intelligence, and I don't plan on starting now.

Let's backtrack to last week. Here in the XWF, we have to cut promotional videos before our matches to hype them up, and get you fans ready for them. Well last Thursday night, I was scheduled for a match against the young upstart Baller and Raziel, who was making his 5,465th comeback.

So, Baller decides not to cut a promo video. Ok, no biggie. No one expected him to win the match anyway. Then Raziel decides not to cut a promo video. Alright, to be expected as he probably disappeared again.

Then came me.

The Ruler of Anarchy.. the man who has carried Anarchy on his shoulders of months now...

.

.

... and I didn't post one either. Not that I didn't want to, but I was busy. I mean, this locker room is anyways preaching Life > XWF, so I didn't think it'd truly be a big deal.

Oh was I wrong.

So I show up for Anarchy, and the writers want to see me right away. I met with them, and they're like... "We want you to go out there and give the fans five good minutes, then you walk out on the match." I'm looking at them, like 'are you serious?' I'ma face and you want me to pull some heelish shit like that, and they're like, 'it's cool'. After you do it, Raziel and Baller will finish the match. At this point, I'm like 'whatever'. So I go out at the end of the night, and do what they want me to do.

I walk out on the match, and nobody bought it. Don't let the boos that they played over the PA system fool you, my fans know I would never walk out of a match, so they figured it was an angle of some sort.

So as I'm leaving, Jonathyn comes out and proceeds to cut a promo on me, questioning my heart and desire. Let's get something straight Jonathyn.. ever since I've been here I've shown up every week. I've done everything asked of management and the writers. But obviously, it's not good enough. But oh, let Gambino not do a video for a PPV title match, and it's cool. Or how about the countless others who don't do those fucking promotional videos on a weekly basis? Do they get ripped on national TV? Nope.

Just the best superstar on your whole damn roster. Now what sense does that make.

Then to top it off, I get thrown in a triple threat match for my World title. Now I have no problem defending my title as I'm a fighting champion for my fans. But my opponents? MC Terrible and the Savior?!

I'm sure they're nice guys and all, but what have they done to deserve this opportunity ahead of more deserving contenders. See, that's the problem with this company. Every week some hasbeen from the past wanna make a return and make it at the expense of the guys who are busting their ass off for the XWF right now.

I had to deal with Bigg Rigg getting a title shot ahead of me, right after walking back through the door. I had to deal with Raziel coming back getting a push, using me to get his washed up ass over. And now, I got MC Terrible and the Savior getting World title shots, when you got a host of guys fighting for that same opportunity in the X- Mas Xtreme tournament.

Way to make that title shot mean something.

So to make a long story short, it looks like management has a problem with Shawn Christopher. Well, that's cool. Shawn Christopher has a problem with management. Ever since I became World champ, they've tried to keep this title off me. They got lucky once.. it won't happen again.

Everyday I hold this title is a big 'fuck you' to management and Jonathyn Brown. You think MC and Savior are gonna be your screwjob again? Think again. You don't have another screwjob in you Jonathyn. You don't have anyone on this roster who can touch me. You think I'm a prick... you damn right I'm a fucking prick! I talk my shit and I back it up.

Trust me, my confidence is my best weapon. The more confident I am, the better I work. Why the hell do you think I’ve destroyed so many people in the past? Why do you think Bigg Rigg ain't here? Why do you think Raziel quietly snuck out the back door? Why do you think I’m something like four or five to nothing over Brad freaking Pierce? I mean, damn, I can’t even remember how many times I’ve beaten the Universal Champion!

MC Terrible and the Savior, I'm sure you two are great wrestlers in your own right. But you two have walked back into my world at the wrong time. Jonathyn has thrown you two to the proverbial wolves. Scratch that, just one wolf. The biggest, baddest wolf of them all... Shawn Christopher, the Cult Icon.

And on Thursday night, I solidfy my point when I outwrestle your two ringers Jonathyn, on my way to defending the title at the biggest show of them all.

This is my time Jonathyn, and when it's all said an done... you will fucking respect me."

Fade to black.