Post by dylanblack on Aug 8, 2023 23:12:01 GMT -6
You are watching the XHF Network! Next up is ShowCase, a run-down on the latest and greatest revelations from the entire network during 2018. From big matches to bigger twists and turns, huge slams and lots of chaos comes a run down on our favourite moments of the year gone by and what sets up the XHF for an explosive new year. With highlights coming from AWF, SSS, AXWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW……………………
---BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP---
---STATIC---
---BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP---
---STATIC---
---BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP---
---STATIC---
---BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP---
---......................................SILENCE......................................---
.
.
.
… bumbum … bumbum … bumbum … bumbum …
.
.
.
You hear that sound? The sound of a beating heart, drowning out everything else so insignificant and inessential. The sound of a rattling voice boring out noise about the great year gone by, the achievements of so many in what was easily one of the worst years imaginable. From politics to media, from the ring to the screen the year of eighteen was a blemish on the history books. To note all of importance that happened in the year …
Barratt became the X*Crown Champion.
Caffrey became the AXW Undisputed Champion.
The GUNS parted ways with their souls.
The XHF lost several great names and superstars from its main rosters.
Yet ultimately what truly happened this year that was important?
NOTHING
.
.
.
… bumbum … bumbum … bumbum … bumbum …
.
.
.
The heart beats still, pumping life into this failing and dying business. This erratic home for lost souls vying to be the best of nothingness. Fools pretending to be superstars, real-life losers portraying their dream selves, blurring the lines of reality while they grasp for golden belts and made-up accolades. Some might call them moronic, laughable individuals who spend their days battling it out on screen and in the ring, calling themselves superstars … the last action hero of the XHF died many moons ago … but he will be reborn …
.
.
.
… bumbum … bumbum … bumbum … bumbum …
.
.
.
[..THE MIGHT OF SUPREMIA!..]
(Scissor Kick!)
BB Gunn: It's over!
OUT OF NOWHERE! Mutt pins Anomoly, hands on both shoulders to keep them down.
[..ONE!..]
[..TWO!..]
[..KICKOUT!..]
Derrick Donovan: Not enough for Mutt to win.
ANOMOLY POWERS OUT! Mutt looks down at Anomoly in disgust and then picks him up, hooks both arms and lifts him up to a vertical base but Anomoly breaks free and brings himself to the shoulders of Mutt, sliding down his back as he lands on his feet and rolls up Mutt with a surprise Schoolboy Pin.
[..ONE!..]
[..TW- KICKOUT!..]
Mutt kicks out but Anomoly suckers him in for a Submission...
[..PULL THE PLUG!..]
(Sharpshooter!)
Derrick Donovan: What a follow-up to the pin!
BB Gunn: But look how close Mutt is to the ropes...
He has it locked in as tight as he can but Mutt's long arms reaches the ropes in an instant, making Anomoly break the hold but as he does he stomps a mudhole to the back of Mutt's head, finishing it off with a Curb Stomp to Mutt. He waits for Mutt to get up, he struggles to his feet and turns around to a waiting Anomoly. Anomoly then connects...
[..SWANN SONG!..]
...and then...
[..ROYALE MASSACRE!..]
(Package Piledriver!)
BB Gunn: Royale Massacre! He finally hit it!
...the Pin is made! Both legs are hooked!
[..ONE!..]
[..TWO!..]
[..THR-- KICKOUT!..]
Derrick Donovan: Looks like Old Anomoly is getting a hang of being back in the ring after so long
BB Gunn: I thought you sai-
Derrick Donovan: I know what I said, and I might have been wrong.
Anomoly brings Mutt to his feet, picks him up in the Electric Chair position, the fans know what's coming and they cheer wildly!
[...RAGNORAK!!...]
(One Winged Angel!)
Derrick Donovan: The Ragnorak!...
Anomoly follows with a pin...
[..ONE!..]
[..TWO!..]
[..THREE!..]
[...DING! DING! DING!...]
Derrick Donovan: ...and that's all she wrote for Mutt.
.
.
.
The source of the sickness in the XHF. The home of a boiling festering plague of snotty, snobbish, ego-driven drivel. The nesting spot for assholes and divas. The boulevard of hopeful dreams and endless nightmares. The home on Anonymity. The birthplace of true combat … and quickly the death of all hope. AXW. The home of utter trash.
.
.
.
BB Gunn: Imagine the look on Duke's face if Chaos lost to the daughter of the man who'd been such a burden to him for the first half of his AXW career!
Derrick Donovan: I'd rather not imagine that look of pure rage.
Frustrated, Dar lifts up Chaos and puts him in a wristlock! She torques his wrist as he yelps out and tries to kick her away, but she nimbly sidesteps his every move. She then drags Chaos to the ropes and throws him over, but Chaos hangs on. She runs the ropes, for a lariat of some sort, but Chaos pulls down the ropes, sending her over onto the concrete floor, and from through the crowd and over the barricade steps Duke Kosloff!
BB Gunn: Speak of the devil!
Derrick Donovan: Oh no! What's he doing here?
BB Gunn: He's come to make a statement, BB! Help Chaos get back into the swing of success, with a little unfair play!
Derrick Donovan: Unfair play indeed, as he's got Dar locked in place for something!
Duke picks up Dar and holds her in place. She struggles against his iron grip, but to no avai. Chaos runs the ropes, and clears them for a tope suicida!
Derrick Donovan: Here comes Chaos!
But Dar kicks Duke low and rolls away, leaving Chaos to crash right into Duke! Headbutting each other and crumpling to the ground with a sickening crunch! Spurring groans of discomfort from the crowd.
BB Gunn: And just as quick as Duke ran in, he's down and out!
Derrick Donovan: That was a mistake by Chaos, he had every intent to hit Dar!
BB Gunn: Well mistake or not, he's left Dar with all the pieces in place to pick the bones like a vulture!
Derrick Donovan: And here she comes to capitalize!
Dar picks up Chaos and throws him into the ring. Before he can make it to his feet, Dar runs in and leaps up...
[...FACH STOMP...]
(Curb Stomp)
BB Gunn: FACH STOMP! FACH STOMP! CHAOS IS DOWN!
Derrick Donovan: And just like that, Chaos' chances of winning may have come to an end!
She rolls up Chaos with an intricate looking pin, bridging up as she's got him rolled head over heels... er, heels over head.
[...ONE!...]
[...TWO!...]
[...THREE!!!...]
Alpha: The winner of this match, Darlene!
.
.
.
To see new faces fight for air, to see young pups bite and claw for their share of the feast. To see whelps barking like the alphas they so wish to emulate. Such pitiful actions. Such resentment lies deep within me, watching these souls beg and caw for some crumbs to trickle down from the top. Hoping that the bearers of Golden Belts might notice them, might invite them to dance, might share some of their precious limelight with them. How poor they look when they are forever relegated to the shadows, forsaken to hold up the supports of the King’s throne. The live in the shadows, bottom-feeding filth trying so desperately to be heard.
.
.
.
Tony Crew: Yeah, you are right. I will win. I will win the first fall and be the man to take down AVA and Anthony Caffrey, just like my sons want me to do. Still though, it's an odd assortment in that ring. Not sure what to think.
Donny Knight: Oh yeah?
Tony Crew: Yeah, from what I gather you have Anomoly, even though I'm not sure what it's spelled wrong on paper. He is, I'm sure, everyone's favorite to win. He has achieved the most in the fed. Then you have Darlene who people say is crazy in that ring. I don't know how I feel fully about possibly having to a fight a female but if it's what I have to do to succeed so be it. I'm one of equal rights. Lastly there is a guy in the match who isn't really in the match because he uses someone else to fight his battles for him.
Donny Knight: King Edmund right?
Tony Crew: Yeah that's him. Knowing what I know from previous shows though is he will have his muscle, Mutt, in the ring for him.
Donny Knight: Well, you know what you have that they don't?
Tony Crew: What's that?
Donny Knight: A 6 foot 8 frame. Wow...
[The two of them laugh as Tony takes some more water.]
Donny Knight: Okay, let's hit some weights shall we?
Tony Crew: Let's do it.
.
.
.
Through the shit-caked lining comes a ray of sunshine. A new face, big as a tree, swinging his trunks around the forest of falling leaves and dead patriarchs. A man of muscle and girth, power and brawn … yet lacking the very essence of what is essentially ‘a star’ - confidence. Charisma. Knowledge. He pays little heed to Mutt, simply thinking the coward Edmund will send in his lapdog once more. He boasts about defeating the AVA, and their mascot Caffrey. He bears some genuine concern about facing a woman, unbeknownst she is the spawn of that cretin Price. And he acknowledges facing off against the Anomoly. The decorated Champion. The reveled superstar. The face of the AXW.
.
.
.
Derrick Donovan: Look out!
As the ref finally feels he has gotten a bit of order, Dunne catches the title and slams it into Anomoly's head as the ex-champion turns around. Dunne slides the belt out of the ring away from the ref who has just gotten Caffrey down off the apron. He turns and sees Dunne hooking the leg as the fans go insane with booing.
BB Gunn: No, not like this!
Derrick Donovan: Anomoly is out cold!
[...ONE!...]
[...TWO!...]
[...THREE!...]
[...DING! DING! DING!...]
The winner of this match, by pin fall, Wellington Dunne and James Raymond, The AVA!
.
.
.
Anomoly is weak. Anomoly is frail. Anomoly is overhyped, under criticized and excruciatingly average. Anomoly is NOTHING! The Anomoly is but dirt on the floor, a wetboy to fill in the blanks, a jobber to keep the promotion moving, a pacemaker working to keep this dying company alive.
.
.
.
… bumbum … bumbum … bumbum … bumbum …
.
.
.
Listen to this heart beat. Listen to it weakening, singing its Swann Song. Listen to the failing sounds of life escaping … time to Pull the Plug … AXW has for too long praised, promoted and promised everything to a bevvy of miscast and ill-prepared clouts. They have offered the world to underdogs, they have placed loyalty and trust in the hands of unknowns. They have gilded imbeciles, slobs and beasts. The AXW is a cesspool of bubbly and colorful sediment, floating at the top whilst the rest drown in excrement. The AXW must be destroyed. And with it, take down their Chiefs of staff, their puppet-masters. The AXW deserves a Royal Massacre …
.
.
.
… bumbum … bumbum … bumbum … bumbum …
.
.
.
The King of Supremia, the Lord of Silvercrest … the coward in miss-sized spandex and flowing toupee … the kennel master yelling orders at his pet. Sending another to fight his battles, letting his own greed, his own selfish worthless ass stand on the sidelines while a mindless fool faces substituted punishment. A true plebeian. A soul born from the bottom, still clawing his way to greatness … but once a Hickenbottom … I relished my victory over your pet. I savored and enjoyed every waking moment of his pain, of his breaking pride as I laid him flat upon the mat. You send a mutt to fight a monster … now it will be your turn to witness a Royal Execution …
.
.
.
… bumbum … bumbum … bumbum … bumbum …
.
.
.
The absolute zero. The bottom of the totem pole. The hell-spawn of the immortal Price, a legend that lives on the tongues of bards on prophets. A mystery. A God … a fool. He bode me no challenge then, and his spawn will bode me no challenge now. She braves battle with those bigger than her stronger than her, more brawn and gall than she can muster. She has walked into war fearlessly and determined to snap at her foes throats, sink her teeth into those who misjudge her … foolish little pest. You and Mutt belong with one another … two hounds. Let Edmund's pet mount this bitch and retire from our sights. At least you are not the biggest diva in the AXW … Anthony Caffrey takes that spot … despite that, I no longer give a Fach about your destiny.
.
.
.
… bumbum … bumbum … bumbum … bumbum …
.
.
.
I do feel pity for these new faces arriving to the AXW. Bright eyes. Bushy tails. Full of hope and optimism. Unaware this cement-mixer of a federation will simply chew you up and churn you out. The AXW is nearing its date of termination, the empire of Anonymous about to come crashing down. This federation needs a revival, a rebirth. Not a wave of new jobbers and fanboys looking to raise their hand and become the latest arrogant violent asshole on the roster. I wonder what the AXW application form looks like these days? Can you bend over for the Champ? Can you bark louder than a bulldog? How much human feces can you excrete from your own mouth during a promo? Tony Crew … how sad this day is that you must walk the plank with these other pirates, thieves of our quality TV time and crucial entertainment. You will become another casualty in this war … the Flagrant One marking down his time in AXW as another bad decision.
.
.
.
… bumbum … bumbum … bumbum … bumbum …
.
.
.
This heart beat grows weaker, time on the clock seemingly running out for the AXW and it’s roster. The underground sensation. The nitty-gritty darker home for violence. The aesthetically appealing federation of the future, so different from the rest, so separate in their quest to rule the XHF … another parade of clowns and puppets. It is not my first choice, but sadly … the AXW must be destroyed. I must delete this federation and restore it to its Factory Settings …
.
.
.
… bumbum … bumbum … bumbum …
.
.
.
The time is running out.
.
.
.
… bumbum … bumbum …
.
.
.
The beat grows weaker and weaker …
.
.
.
… bumbum …
.
.
.
Close your eyes now, it’s time to sleep.
.
.
.
… --------------------------------------------- …
IT IS TIME
---BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP---
--- ---
--- STATIC ---
--- ---
---BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP---
---STATIC---
---BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP---
---STATIC---
---BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP---
---STATIC---
---BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP---
---......................................SILENCE......................................---
.
.
.
… bumbum … bumbum … bumbum … bumbum …
.
.
.
You hear that sound? The sound of a beating heart, drowning out everything else so insignificant and inessential. The sound of a rattling voice boring out noise about the great year gone by, the achievements of so many in what was easily one of the worst years imaginable. From politics to media, from the ring to the screen the year of eighteen was a blemish on the history books. To note all of importance that happened in the year …
Barratt became the X*Crown Champion.
Caffrey became the AXW Undisputed Champion.
The GUNS parted ways with their souls.
The XHF lost several great names and superstars from its main rosters.
Yet ultimately what truly happened this year that was important?
NOTHING
.
.
.
… bumbum … bumbum … bumbum … bumbum …
.
.
.
The heart beats still, pumping life into this failing and dying business. This erratic home for lost souls vying to be the best of nothingness. Fools pretending to be superstars, real-life losers portraying their dream selves, blurring the lines of reality while they grasp for golden belts and made-up accolades. Some might call them moronic, laughable individuals who spend their days battling it out on screen and in the ring, calling themselves superstars … the last action hero of the XHF died many moons ago … but he will be reborn …
.
.
.
… bumbum … bumbum … bumbum … bumbum …
.
.
.
[..THE MIGHT OF SUPREMIA!..]
(Scissor Kick!)
BB Gunn: It's over!
OUT OF NOWHERE! Mutt pins Anomoly, hands on both shoulders to keep them down.
[..ONE!..]
[..TWO!..]
[..KICKOUT!..]
Derrick Donovan: Not enough for Mutt to win.
ANOMOLY POWERS OUT! Mutt looks down at Anomoly in disgust and then picks him up, hooks both arms and lifts him up to a vertical base but Anomoly breaks free and brings himself to the shoulders of Mutt, sliding down his back as he lands on his feet and rolls up Mutt with a surprise Schoolboy Pin.
[..ONE!..]
[..TW- KICKOUT!..]
Mutt kicks out but Anomoly suckers him in for a Submission...
[..PULL THE PLUG!..]
(Sharpshooter!)
Derrick Donovan: What a follow-up to the pin!
BB Gunn: But look how close Mutt is to the ropes...
He has it locked in as tight as he can but Mutt's long arms reaches the ropes in an instant, making Anomoly break the hold but as he does he stomps a mudhole to the back of Mutt's head, finishing it off with a Curb Stomp to Mutt. He waits for Mutt to get up, he struggles to his feet and turns around to a waiting Anomoly. Anomoly then connects...
[..SWANN SONG!..]
...and then...
[..ROYALE MASSACRE!..]
(Package Piledriver!)
BB Gunn: Royale Massacre! He finally hit it!
...the Pin is made! Both legs are hooked!
[..ONE!..]
[..TWO!..]
[..THR-- KICKOUT!..]
Derrick Donovan: Looks like Old Anomoly is getting a hang of being back in the ring after so long
BB Gunn: I thought you sai-
Derrick Donovan: I know what I said, and I might have been wrong.
Anomoly brings Mutt to his feet, picks him up in the Electric Chair position, the fans know what's coming and they cheer wildly!
[...RAGNORAK!!...]
(One Winged Angel!)
Derrick Donovan: The Ragnorak!...
Anomoly follows with a pin...
[..ONE!..]
[..TWO!..]
[..THREE!..]
[...DING! DING! DING!...]
Derrick Donovan: ...and that's all she wrote for Mutt.
.
.
The source of the sickness in the XHF. The home of a boiling festering plague of snotty, snobbish, ego-driven drivel. The nesting spot for assholes and divas. The boulevard of hopeful dreams and endless nightmares. The home on Anonymity. The birthplace of true combat … and quickly the death of all hope. AXW. The home of utter trash.
.
.
.
BB Gunn: Imagine the look on Duke's face if Chaos lost to the daughter of the man who'd been such a burden to him for the first half of his AXW career!
Derrick Donovan: I'd rather not imagine that look of pure rage.
Frustrated, Dar lifts up Chaos and puts him in a wristlock! She torques his wrist as he yelps out and tries to kick her away, but she nimbly sidesteps his every move. She then drags Chaos to the ropes and throws him over, but Chaos hangs on. She runs the ropes, for a lariat of some sort, but Chaos pulls down the ropes, sending her over onto the concrete floor, and from through the crowd and over the barricade steps Duke Kosloff!
BB Gunn: Speak of the devil!
Derrick Donovan: Oh no! What's he doing here?
BB Gunn: He's come to make a statement, BB! Help Chaos get back into the swing of success, with a little unfair play!
Derrick Donovan: Unfair play indeed, as he's got Dar locked in place for something!
Duke picks up Dar and holds her in place. She struggles against his iron grip, but to no avai. Chaos runs the ropes, and clears them for a tope suicida!
Derrick Donovan: Here comes Chaos!
But Dar kicks Duke low and rolls away, leaving Chaos to crash right into Duke! Headbutting each other and crumpling to the ground with a sickening crunch! Spurring groans of discomfort from the crowd.
BB Gunn: And just as quick as Duke ran in, he's down and out!
Derrick Donovan: That was a mistake by Chaos, he had every intent to hit Dar!
BB Gunn: Well mistake or not, he's left Dar with all the pieces in place to pick the bones like a vulture!
Derrick Donovan: And here she comes to capitalize!
Dar picks up Chaos and throws him into the ring. Before he can make it to his feet, Dar runs in and leaps up...
[...FACH STOMP...]
(Curb Stomp)
BB Gunn: FACH STOMP! FACH STOMP! CHAOS IS DOWN!
Derrick Donovan: And just like that, Chaos' chances of winning may have come to an end!
She rolls up Chaos with an intricate looking pin, bridging up as she's got him rolled head over heels... er, heels over head.
[...ONE!...]
[...TWO!...]
[...THREE!!!...]
Alpha: The winner of this match, Darlene!
.
.
To see new faces fight for air, to see young pups bite and claw for their share of the feast. To see whelps barking like the alphas they so wish to emulate. Such pitiful actions. Such resentment lies deep within me, watching these souls beg and caw for some crumbs to trickle down from the top. Hoping that the bearers of Golden Belts might notice them, might invite them to dance, might share some of their precious limelight with them. How poor they look when they are forever relegated to the shadows, forsaken to hold up the supports of the King’s throne. The live in the shadows, bottom-feeding filth trying so desperately to be heard.
.
.
.
Tony Crew: Yeah, you are right. I will win. I will win the first fall and be the man to take down AVA and Anthony Caffrey, just like my sons want me to do. Still though, it's an odd assortment in that ring. Not sure what to think.
Donny Knight: Oh yeah?
Tony Crew: Yeah, from what I gather you have Anomoly, even though I'm not sure what it's spelled wrong on paper. He is, I'm sure, everyone's favorite to win. He has achieved the most in the fed. Then you have Darlene who people say is crazy in that ring. I don't know how I feel fully about possibly having to a fight a female but if it's what I have to do to succeed so be it. I'm one of equal rights. Lastly there is a guy in the match who isn't really in the match because he uses someone else to fight his battles for him.
Donny Knight: King Edmund right?
Tony Crew: Yeah that's him. Knowing what I know from previous shows though is he will have his muscle, Mutt, in the ring for him.
Donny Knight: Well, you know what you have that they don't?
Tony Crew: What's that?
Donny Knight: A 6 foot 8 frame. Wow...
[The two of them laugh as Tony takes some more water.]
Donny Knight: Okay, let's hit some weights shall we?
Tony Crew: Let's do it.
.
.
Through the shit-caked lining comes a ray of sunshine. A new face, big as a tree, swinging his trunks around the forest of falling leaves and dead patriarchs. A man of muscle and girth, power and brawn … yet lacking the very essence of what is essentially ‘a star’ - confidence. Charisma. Knowledge. He pays little heed to Mutt, simply thinking the coward Edmund will send in his lapdog once more. He boasts about defeating the AVA, and their mascot Caffrey. He bears some genuine concern about facing a woman, unbeknownst she is the spawn of that cretin Price. And he acknowledges facing off against the Anomoly. The decorated Champion. The reveled superstar. The face of the AXW.
.
.
.
Derrick Donovan: Look out!
As the ref finally feels he has gotten a bit of order, Dunne catches the title and slams it into Anomoly's head as the ex-champion turns around. Dunne slides the belt out of the ring away from the ref who has just gotten Caffrey down off the apron. He turns and sees Dunne hooking the leg as the fans go insane with booing.
BB Gunn: No, not like this!
Derrick Donovan: Anomoly is out cold!
[...ONE!...]
[...TWO!...]
[...THREE!...]
[...DING! DING! DING!...]
The winner of this match, by pin fall, Wellington Dunne and James Raymond, The AVA!
.
.
Anomoly is weak. Anomoly is frail. Anomoly is overhyped, under criticized and excruciatingly average. Anomoly is NOTHING! The Anomoly is but dirt on the floor, a wetboy to fill in the blanks, a jobber to keep the promotion moving, a pacemaker working to keep this dying company alive.
.
.
.
… bumbum … bumbum … bumbum … bumbum …
.
.
.
Listen to this heart beat. Listen to it weakening, singing its Swann Song. Listen to the failing sounds of life escaping … time to Pull the Plug … AXW has for too long praised, promoted and promised everything to a bevvy of miscast and ill-prepared clouts. They have offered the world to underdogs, they have placed loyalty and trust in the hands of unknowns. They have gilded imbeciles, slobs and beasts. The AXW is a cesspool of bubbly and colorful sediment, floating at the top whilst the rest drown in excrement. The AXW must be destroyed. And with it, take down their Chiefs of staff, their puppet-masters. The AXW deserves a Royal Massacre …
.
.
.
… bumbum … bumbum … bumbum … bumbum …
.
.
.
The King of Supremia, the Lord of Silvercrest … the coward in miss-sized spandex and flowing toupee … the kennel master yelling orders at his pet. Sending another to fight his battles, letting his own greed, his own selfish worthless ass stand on the sidelines while a mindless fool faces substituted punishment. A true plebeian. A soul born from the bottom, still clawing his way to greatness … but once a Hickenbottom … I relished my victory over your pet. I savored and enjoyed every waking moment of his pain, of his breaking pride as I laid him flat upon the mat. You send a mutt to fight a monster … now it will be your turn to witness a Royal Execution …
.
.
.
… bumbum … bumbum … bumbum … bumbum …
.
.
.
The absolute zero. The bottom of the totem pole. The hell-spawn of the immortal Price, a legend that lives on the tongues of bards on prophets. A mystery. A God … a fool. He bode me no challenge then, and his spawn will bode me no challenge now. She braves battle with those bigger than her stronger than her, more brawn and gall than she can muster. She has walked into war fearlessly and determined to snap at her foes throats, sink her teeth into those who misjudge her … foolish little pest. You and Mutt belong with one another … two hounds. Let Edmund's pet mount this bitch and retire from our sights. At least you are not the biggest diva in the AXW … Anthony Caffrey takes that spot … despite that, I no longer give a Fach about your destiny.
.
.
.
… bumbum … bumbum … bumbum … bumbum …
.
.
.
I do feel pity for these new faces arriving to the AXW. Bright eyes. Bushy tails. Full of hope and optimism. Unaware this cement-mixer of a federation will simply chew you up and churn you out. The AXW is nearing its date of termination, the empire of Anonymous about to come crashing down. This federation needs a revival, a rebirth. Not a wave of new jobbers and fanboys looking to raise their hand and become the latest arrogant violent asshole on the roster. I wonder what the AXW application form looks like these days? Can you bend over for the Champ? Can you bark louder than a bulldog? How much human feces can you excrete from your own mouth during a promo? Tony Crew … how sad this day is that you must walk the plank with these other pirates, thieves of our quality TV time and crucial entertainment. You will become another casualty in this war … the Flagrant One marking down his time in AXW as another bad decision.
.
.
.
… bumbum … bumbum … bumbum … bumbum …
.
.
.
This heart beat grows weaker, time on the clock seemingly running out for the AXW and it’s roster. The underground sensation. The nitty-gritty darker home for violence. The aesthetically appealing federation of the future, so different from the rest, so separate in their quest to rule the XHF … another parade of clowns and puppets. It is not my first choice, but sadly … the AXW must be destroyed. I must delete this federation and restore it to its Factory Settings …
.
.
.
… bumbum … bumbum … bumbum …
.
.
.
The time is running out.
.
.
.
… bumbum … bumbum …
.
.
.
The beat grows weaker and weaker …
.
.
.
… bumbum …
.
.
.
Close your eyes now, it’s time to sleep.
.
.
.
… --------------------------------------------- …
IT IS TIME
---BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP---
--- ---
--- STATIC ---
--- ---