AF4 - Triple X vs. S.H.I.T. vs. Jack O'Lantern (Lethal Lottery Qualifier)

[Ty Burna]

With Triple X and Jack O'Latern no-showing the Roulette events and S.H.I.T. almost having a major malfunction from last week, these three men (well, two men and one robot) will be competing together in a Triple Threat match to redeem themselves and hopefully get a spot in the Lottery. Can S.H.I.T. pull himself together, or even comprehend what is at stake to win the match or will XXX/Latern be able to get back in the rhythm of WZCW and actually show up, winning the match in the process?

Deadline is Tuesday, January 24th at 11:59 PM Central Time.​

 

[Miko]

A snake will always bite!

“What the hell was that?”

Gustav has managed to find his way back into the WZCW backstage area in time to watch S.H.I.T’s performance against Action Saxton. By the look on his face he isn’t very impressed. The robot however, just turns and glares at its trainer? Mentor? Friend? Before continuing its journey.

“Where are you going? Are you just going to ignore me now?” The lack of German accent could be attributed to Gustav’s get up, the top hat and monocle are in place as is a very nice 1930’s style suit.

S.H.I.T stops dead in its tracks, turns and now looks at Gustav, its eyes gleaming red.

Weakness!

“Weakness? What are you talking about?”

You cannot change the nature of things Gustav! You said it, your words, “you will get bitten.” The snake will always bite Gustav. To do anything else would be weakness!

S.H.I.T turns and continues its journey, pushing through staff members on its way. Gustav has to jog to catch up.

“What has gotten into your head?” He panted. “You tried to get a chair, you were going to assault Saxton with it.”

Affirmative!

“Then why didn’t you?”

There are a multitude of possible reasons; it would have resulted in a disqualification.

Your words of fighting with honour may hold some meaning.

The truth however. . .

S.H.I.T stops dead, its hands reach up towards its head. It stays like this for a long moment.

“The truth?” Prompts Gustav, stirring S.H.I.T out of its active hibernation.

There are higher powers at work! It starts to continue its journey.

“S.H.I.T Industries?” Gustav asks visibly shocked. “Have they caught up with you?”

Higher powers Gustav! Is the only reply from the robot.

A wasp will always sting!

It stops again in front of its box, the container that has been used to get S.H.I.T from arena to arena across the country. Gustav steps up to the robots side.

“You didn’t strike Saxton with the chair though?” He said with a smile. “Is it possible I have got through to you after all?”

Weakness! Repeats the robot.

“Weakness? Is it not a sign of strength to not take advantage of an illegal situation?”

Suddenly S.H.I.T lurches forward with a kick, putting its foot right through the front of its own box.

That is a sign of strength Gustav! It said, still hopping on one leg.

It dislodges its foot, steps back and aims another kick at the front of its box, this time it doesn’t break through but knocks it over with a huge crash. Some of the staff members visibly jump while others stare at the apparently out of control machine.

S.H.I.T Unit 1’s inability to strike Saxton resulted in an unsuccessful attempt to defeat him. Your methods and ways are contrary to the nature of the weapon. This can only lead to weakness.

“You don’t seriously think like that, do you?”

It is not what I think. It is what it is.

A weapon will always destroy!

"The time has come" the German said "to talk of many things."

The time for talking has been and gone!

S.H.I.T starts to move onwards, navigating around the wreckage it has caused as the crowd of spectators part to let the robot through.

“Where are you going now?”

The robot stops, turns to face the German, looking at him with those cold red eyes, it’s mouth permanently contorted into a snarl.

A sword requires a wielder.

A gun requires a triggerman.

A bomb requires someone to activate the detonator.

With those words said it was gone. Gustav looks on at the space S.H.I.T was occupying in despair.

“How could I have failed so utterly?” He mutters.

-------- -------------------------------------------------------- ---------------

Jack O’ Lantern?

S.H.I.T is stood alone in front of the match-card for Aftershock, it has singled out the match that it is in, a Lethal Lottery qualifier.

Jack O’ Lantern is a cruel creature, full of malice and hate, it would be a blessing to the world if S.H.I.T were to put him down.

Gustav would have hated him.

S.H.I.T looks over both shoulders, but there is still no sign of the German whom the robot has not seen since their earlier interaction. It looks at the second name in the match.

Triple X!

It pauses for a long moment.

S.H.I.T must defeat the creatures known as Jack O’ Lantern and Triple X! Two of the snakes that haunt WZCW with their continued existence, the two that stand in the machines way of the Lethal Lottery.

It points at the first name.

Jack O’ Lantern with his Pumpkins of blood, his desire only to inflict pain and suffering on his opponents, his destruction will be the blessing all desire, for he has shown his true hand already.

It’s finger moves on to the second name in the match.

Triple X with his lies and deceit, hiding his true nature to gain favour, his destruction will be the blessing in disguise, for it will not be welcomed, it is a necessary evil.

Now its finger moves on to the third.

S.H.I.T the weapon, it’s true nature clear for all to see.

It turns away from the match card and heads off in the opposite direction.

Every weapon needs a wielder!

 

[BK Styles]

There is a moment of static as the camera comes to life. When it does, Triple X is sitting at the counter of a dimly-lit bar. A glass of clear liquid is down in front of him, which he casually takes a sip of.



You find me, ladies and gentlemen, in unfamiliar surroundings. A bar. Not just any bar though, oh no, this bar is the one I used to drink in way back when. Now, you’re probably asking yourself ‘why would an ex-alcoholic-turned straight edge follower be in a bar, especially the one he used to drink in?’ This is water, by the way. Well, you see, it’s to prove a point. When I look around in this bar I see a lot of different people. Young guys with bottles of beer, girls with their vodka shots, older gentlemen with their glasses of whiskey. And I look at all of the nameless faces and I realise that I don’t know these people. And you’re now probably thinking ‘Well gee, if you used to drink here, why aren’t your old buddies in here?’ That’s because they drank, and drank, and drank, like me, and rather than do the sensible thing, and see the error of their ways and stop, they simply…kept drinking.

He pauses momentarily, looking down.

They’re all dead now. In a grave dug by the alcohol they so preciously desired.

He looks up, eyes focused square on the camera.


Don’t misunderstand me. I got no problem with people drinking. I just don’t like to see people turn their lives into pits of self destruction. Which brings me onto a certain ‘psychopath’ called Jack O’Lantern. You see, Jack is, in simple terms, a deranged lunatic with a pumpkin fetish. Make no mistake, a talented performer is Mr O’Lantern, but the last time I saw someone as mentally insecure as you was…well, right here, actually. Like the drunks who don’t know when enough is enough, you’re an unstable mess. Hell, you probably drink so much anyway that you believe Halloween is every day. And why not? Hell, if I was drunk all the time I’d probably do the same.

X smirks, takes another sip of water, and sweeps his hair back.

You THINK you’re extreme when you don’t know the meaning of the word. And I know your real weapon, Jack. The one thing you use to gain an advantage. Fear. You think you can break me; you think you can make me afraid with your mind games? You think you can scare me? Jack…I’ve drank with the devil and walked away to tell the tale. Taken things that would have poisoned the lives of many. Watch my friends throw their lives away…

X pauses, touching the ring on the necklace around his neck, the source of both his pain, and his solace.

People I cared about have died, Jack, and yet, here I am. So try and break me. I welcome it. Because when I’m done, there won’t be enough alcohol in the whole damn world to numb the pain.

X drains the glass and pushes it to one side. He leans on the counter and hangs his head down, slowly raising it up after he starts talking.

And then, just when it can’t get any weirder…a robot. A god-damn robot. Truth is, I saw this and thought it was some joke, but the truth is, S.H.I.T is a serious individual, and he…sorry, IT can get the job done in the ring. But robot, I don’t know if you can understand this or not, but what you are is a machine. Just a machine. However good you are, I will BREAK you. See, I may be a good guy, but I have a theory my metallic friend. If, say, I were to break our mutual favorite Eric Draven impersonators' arm, I have no doubt that it’d heal, given time. I wonder what happens if I snap your arm off? Or, say, your neck? Say I tear your head clean from your shoulders and rip out the insides. All of the logistical calculations in the world can’t tell you how badly your shiny metal ass is gonna get kicked.

A guy like Jack is an example of human mistakes and failures. You’re free of those, robot. You aren’t plagued by the demon in a bottle. For that, I envy you. Because you see, I’m not free of them. I used to have the same problems as many of the people in this bar. I used to crave the taste of whisky, and do desperate things for even the smallest drop. But that's not my poison. Everytime I step out in front of the crowd, I do it because I have to. No-one’s forcing me to, I just…I have no choice. If you’ve ever been addicted to something, you’ll know what I’m talking about. I just…the cheers of the crowd. The clapping of hands, the voices of the people, it’s my new drug, a drug that I simply cannot give up. A drug I have no intention of giving up. So, Jack. Robot. Make no mistake. I need my next fix. And I’m lucky, ‘cause this week it’s a double dose.

X stands up from the bar and turns to walk away, but pauses, staring in front of him.

Make no mistake. I will do whatever it takes to get into the Lethal Lottery match. And you're both in my way. I suggest you don't stay there.

Triple X picks up his jacket from the stool and walks out of the bar. A few of the locals on tables behind where he sat turn and watch as he leaves, then go back to their drinks as the camera fades to black.