~So don't cry to me ohhh baby. Your future is in a Oblong Box!~

Ohhh no someone jacked my swagger? How will I ever have moves like Mick Jagger!

Oh woe is me...except for the fact that you really have no taste in music. That's what we found out today. If you were going for Ludacris you should have went with “Get back motherfucker.” Have some class man. I mean you can't have any in your promos because of the fact you are a glorified little fan fiction writer. Seriously, if you were going for a parody I would have expected a total jacking of the graphics and audio, but I guess that's to complicated for you. What's the matter? Run out of time before your D&D session? Did you have to roll up some more orcs? Did mom have to take you on an emergency hot pocket run?

Oh I know. I know. You're angry. You have to defend your title so close after your win over Nirv. Hey I'm all for waiting till the next pay per view, but it's not my call.

You are also are grossly misinformed. I don't care about your title. I never have.

Nope, only as a means to an end.

So with that said it really begs one to ask themselves. Why should I care?

Because of the Towers? See, I'm getting better...I could make a really bad joke right now, but no. I'm going to be the better man for once. Why should I care about this place? Ask yourself? What does it have to really offer me? All of my real matches have been interfered with by young punks who think they are better than everyone else. The little game Dirk and I played at “Epidemic” is nothing more than what I see everyone playing around here. Switchblade ran off because of the sheer disrespect we showed him. I admit it. Because, despite my respect for him as an athlete I proved one thing.

It's all about ratings not titles to that man. Otherwise Dirk wouldn't have gotten that stipulation. Do you think that was fair? Do you think that was respectful to the champion? No. Did it get a bigger buyout? Oh yes. That's all that matters to your booker. Your boss. Despite my problems with previous bosses the one thing that they always had a focus on was what you hold dear. The title. The World Heavyweight championship is the highest honor in our field. This proves that you are something to be seen. You are the man. You are the greatest of the great.

What a load of horseshit.

The better man obviously doesn't win all of the time. Case in point. My match. I'm not the better man. I admit that. I'm not a good person. I'm not a person who should have one of these if federations actually followed their procedures. Oh sure, you've done this and that to earn your title and how you've beaten people who have beaten me. There is just one small flaw in your dumb philosophy oh “Great One”.

I don't give a fuck.

So go ahead and talk about the only subject you can write well and that's yourself. I wouldn't be surprised if I start seeing...you know what...I'm going to get a start on it right now.

Lionel Kingston is so manly he makes cavemen look like caveboys!

Lionel Kingston is so great he makes a great white look just off white.

Lionel Kingston is so great when God does anything he checks with Lionel to make sure he's cool with it.

Lionel Kingston wrote the Grapes of Wrath after killing a grape because it besmirched him so.

Lionel Kingston forged the one ring and then threw it to the “Dark Lord” cause it had a flaw in it.

Lionel Kingston makes women love him just by thinking about saying any letters in his name.

Lionel Kingston is so great the chinese call him the “Great Wall Builder”!

That's a Lionel Kingston trash talking session kids. Let me save your brains a little scarring by keeping you from such diatribe that makes my internal cortex vomit such horrible thoughts as Justin Beiber and Kenny G collaborating on a new album.

Oh you made a “Taxi” joke. Aren't you clever. I could go into thousands upon thousands of puns I could make with your name Lionel. However, I'm not a cheap and ineffective person like you.

Why make fun of your name? You do it enough with your so called in ring abilities.

Oh I'll admit your good. You may even be a better wrestler than I am. Hell, maybe the best wrestler on the whole planet.

So with that said you want to know what you can expect from me. Something you never counted on. See. I don't think you have really done your research. You know I don't give a fuck about anything here, but maybe you don't know why. I think you will understand it from a certain point of view. You see, I came here representing my federation. Which sadly has gone under do to our world champion getting shot at and ending up in the hospital probably never to awaken again.

And you thought you had it bad with Dirk Roman promos to sit through. Wow. I really pity you Lionel. I really do.

I mean jeez it's not like your life is on the line. Oh, that'd be fun.

Nah. Not going there. I promised the psychologists I would only hurt people not kill them. They gave me a lollipop and everything. Oh well. The point is this. I came here representing CWF and I got very far in the Lethal Lottery. Yes. I am aware of your acomplishments with that tournament. Congrats. Now listen. I know this is hard for you because it has nothing to do with you. So please do me this courtesy. I got to face two icons of hardcore. I know you don't care about that, but to me it's all about what makes my fed look good. Not me. I know...weird fucking concept right. Then, one of your favorite people, decides to fuck that up. Now. I know it would KILL you guys to have an outsider wear that title belt.

I understand that.

I respect that.

How could you know that this humble masked man was going to take on whoever had the belt before me if I won it and face them in a match. You could have gotten a great buy out for it. Bring SFT's ratings up. Best of all...it would have made you look like what you see yourself as Lionel. A hero.

To bad it will never happen. I'll make sure of that.

No, I'm not taking you out. No, I'm not burning the title. I'm destroying this place.

Because your stupid coworker took it upon himself to change my fate with his interference. Everyone is going to burn.

Empty threat right? So what does this have to do with you?

Ask yourself this. If I don't care about winning the world title. What is my goal in this match?

Does the “lackey” have a plan?

Oh yes. He does. One that you are playing right into. See it can either go down option a, option b, or option c. I have it planned out to option infinity which is a fun one. See I don't care about the prestige of your belt. It means nothing to me. Just like you.

Losing is only a matter of perspective. I mean look at you. How many matches did you lose or were a part of losing and you still got this shot?

I mean I earned mine by everyone else's account so that has to be a source of ribbing for you. Hell, I don't even want it. I think it's a waste of my time really. I do have nothing better to do that you know of anyway. Oh yeah, I'm not like the other opponents you have where you can get inside my head from watching their “reality television” promos.

So good luck figuring out exactly how to take me down a peg. Oh, but you have your SFT matches I've been in and you could get some CWF shows to if you wanted. Hell. I'll send them to you if you want. Good luck figuring anything out from them though. No, I am not the fastest wrestler. The strongest. The smartest. Hell...I'm not even a good technical wrestler. I do have one thing on my side though. I have patience.

Even Achilles had his heel.

And I know every man's weakness.

No. Get your mind out of the gutter. It's right near his heart. It's his sternum. Martial artists and monks for generations have tried to find ways to stop this one weak point. One good shot at it and it renders the opponent a mess. There is no way to stop it without some sort of protection.

Why am I telling you this? Shouldn't I keep my strategy to myself? No. Because I want you to learn something. I want you to learn that there are some things that even you can not defend yourself from.

Then again what can I defend myself from with you?

Much...so much.

More on you later. I'm going to reflect on living in my own fantasy world to get to know you a little better. I'm not ripping you off. I'm trying to understand how you work so I can tear you apart. Not for the title. Not for my ultimate goal. Just because I can.

By the way do yourself a favor.






Apparently it's annoying. I wonder why I do it then?


The Swords of Champions
Chapter 2: The Heroes of the Realm

What felt like three days later I was beginning to have all of my strength back. It was like anything was possible with these abilities. It was addicting. I had to keep telling myself it was a dream. I heard them coming over two miles away. I grabbed my sword and headed out of the barn. I concentrated using my “magik”. I had figured out this trick a day ago to increase my vision. I saw them. Six horses. Five men, one woman, and one I couldn't tell if it was male or female. They were riding fast. I also sensed another blade like mine. The one in the lead. On the white horse. I heard Trenton come up behind me.
“They are here.”
“Are you sure they are our friends?” He laughed for a moment. That laugh. I hated it. “How are you sure I am your friend?”
“My gut.”
“Then trust it. However, if you fight him.” He pointed to the one in front. “You are in for the fight of your life. That's the king's son. The bearer of the Sword of the World.”
The one he was talking about had on a set of full plate armor. Gold and silver. The helm and sheild was like that of a...aw fuck my life it's a Lion. I know who this is. I shake my head as I sheath my sword.
The others were a little harder to figure out. One was large man with a huge ax. I could only assume he was some sort of Hayes knockoff. He walked over to me first and held out his hand.
“Good Kayl'yn, great to see you alive old friend.”
I held out my hand and shook it. Trenton stepped in front of me.
“Forgive him Haze. His mind is still drained from the battle.”
Haze nodded and went over to talk to the Lion headed guy. Two of the men look like brothers. One with some facial burns and the other carrying crosses. Has to be Redd and St. Jude. The one I couldn't tell was covered by cloth from head to toe. It had another sword. A rough looking one. That weird fucker that beat Dirk. Anonymia. His blade wrapped around his arm like some sort of chain. He looked at me with his face shrouded. As if he knew something. I assume it to be a he. Oh great, the one off to the side with the rapier looked like “he I will never name”. Damn poster is messing with my head. Putting me with people I would never work with. One guy I had never seen. He carried a bow and arrow and had a smirk on his face. Gray haired. A slight beard on his face. His eyes are gray. He confuses me the most. The girl. She doesn't exist either. Is this a purpose to the plot. Or something in my head.
“Friends. Our dear comrade, Kayl'yn, still suffers from the brain fire. Allow me to introduce your friends to you once again Kay.” Haze motioned to “Redd and Jude”. “These are the brothers Crimson and White. Crimson is our noble thief and his brother our healer and spiritual advisor. The one in the robes is the mage Anon. I am Haze Whitemoon of the clan Stone Dragon. The braggart with the thin blade is Largo DeBois. The archer is Deth “Stalker”Wo'ash . The young lady is our tracker, Lady Ariania.” I bowed my head slightly as the others looked at me strangely. “I thought he would be totally healed by now, Master Trenton?” asked Crimson. “Kayl'yn has never bowed to any man since he was a boy.” Trenton sighed as he walked forward to the party members.
“Part of it is awakening the blade. The other...I can not say. His magic seems to be returning faster than his memory.”
“So. He is useless then.” said the man in the golden armor. His arrogance bled through like water through a opened faucet.
“You speak big for a man in full plate. Your name sir.”
“You know better than to speak to me like that.”
“Do I?” I said drawing up the Sword of Nations. “Perhaps you need to tell me otherwise sir.”
He draws his own sword.

“I am the master of the “World Blade”. You are a impetuous little tart. However...” He re-sheaths his sword and removes his helmet. He looks like a decent human being. Not like Lionel in my mind at all. “You are burned of the brain. I am Leonidus. Son of the King of the city of Towers. Your name and fame do proceed you as well. I am honored that you have your fighting spirit back.”
I sheath my sword. I bow to him slightly. I look at the others. They do not unnerve me. Save for one. The girl. Who the hell is she?
“Do you know what we are fighting?” Anon asks me with a raspy voice.
“That might be nice.”
“We are going to kill some gods.” says Largo smirking on his horse. “Not afraid are you?”
“If it has you smiling it must be a stroll through a field.” This causes the group to laugh. I smile to. Looks like I'm about to become a hero.

Are we having fun yet?

It's an interesting conundrum for you really. What do you have to lose in this match? Oh sure you lose a title. What is the title to you? Everything. To me. Well. It's less than nothing. It makes no difference to me. I don't need it. What can a title do really? Can it feed you? Can it clothe you? Can it make you safe at night? No. It can't. It's a symbol. To you it is a symbol of everything you hold dear. This “demi-godhood” that you have thrust upon yourself in one world reflected into this. You can not “superpower” in this world so you become the closest thing this world has to offer.

A wrestler.

Wrestler's are more than just mere athletes. We're fighters and performers all in one. Sure you get a athlete like Ali who has the charisma to back up what he can do. They are a dime a dozen in this industry. Let me ask you something though Lionel. What would you do if you weren't a wrestler?

What if you were...*gasp*...just like one of them?

You know, that crowd of people wearing your merchandise. What if you were one of those people?

What if you could not be a wrestler. What if it just wasn't in the cards for you? Would you find something else to be? Would you be content or would you be eating a bullet? See. I could make all the accusations I want, but I will prove something to you.

I am one of those people.

I am one of those people who watch this sport and see what “greatness” comes from you. I must say this. From a man who is anything but normal and has seen the most sadistic shit you could ever imagine.

You make me sick.

You act like you've really done something? Really. What have you done? You beat this guy and that guy and that guy to prove your the best? Ohhhhh. I am so impressed. Praise be unto him named Champion! For he has shown me that he careth about his fans and maketh me lie down with free front row tickets at my T.V. to hear his words of wisdom!

You haven't done a God damn thing.

So you beat Nirvana? Good. Have you beaten cancer like that kid from the make-a-wish foundation who got front row tickets to see you beat Nirvana? What exactly have you done with your life Lionel? Nothing. You've one a weight belt that we wear backwards that has been tinplated with Shadow's greedy little hands. You think you are part of something great? Everyone else laughs at this federation. Not at Nirvana. Not at The Axis. They laugh at the whole place! This is the eyesore of professional wrestling.

But you've done great things. Tell me. Just what are you willing to do for it?

Are you willing to die for your federation like my friend Dan Highlander did?

Are you willing to put your career on the line to defeat someone like me?

You better be. Because I'm not going away. I am not running from you. Oh sure. Beat me to retain your precious waste of pressed leather. At the end of the day. When you are at your hotel room. Just you and the belt.

I want you to look in the mirror.

I want you to look at yourself.

I want you to know that you know that you know that you gave it your best.

...and it still didn't get the job done!

Your federation is going to fucking fall. At my hands. No matter what you do it will happen. You are no king here Lion.

You are my puppet bitch.

So dance monkey dance.

The Swords of Champions.
Chapter 3: Where are all the gods?

We bid Trenton farewell and we rode for what seemed like days. Stopping at nights and camping out under stars that I had never seen before. I kept expecting to wake up, but I did not. As we traveled I asked White why we were fighting “the gods.”
“Well as the myths go the swords are the only things that can kill them. They are descendants of The Dark Shadow. A entity of pure chaos and destruction. We all worship the goddess Ann-ika.” He says so sure of himself. I knew this had something to do with my focus on the poster. It makes sense my big bad guy would be Shadow. Why would I pick my own stablemates as villains. It's confusing. A confusion that might explain why this felt wrong but felt right. “You've all ready faced two of the gods before but sadly my brother stopped you from fighting them. Then you got burned by Roman. He's infuriated at Anon still for turning his bride, Dusk, into a crystal. Although he is normally a cheerful god his dark aspect has been awakened without her to balance him. The dark gods are planning to destroy the city of Towers. If that happens...we will all be destroyed.”
“So standard end of the world hero stuff?”
“I fail to see the humor in this.” He said sternly. “My brother had to face their new ally. The faceless thief. He burned my brother's face with dark magic. He must be destroyed.”
I tried not to be shocked. Of course. I didn't wear the mask. He would be here. He...I would be here. I'm going to have to fight myself. No. I won't. I'll wake up.
“We'll stop at the town of Gorloth. It will be the last rest before we enter into the dark god's lands.” says “Stalker” as he yells from taking point. I do not like him.
“He likes the sound of his own voice.” The woman, Ariania. I had been avoiding her since the start of this.
“Aye.” I respond. “He's quite found of it.”
“You've been cold to me Kay.”
“I am sorry. It's sort of strange being told you have to save the world.”
“Kay. For the goddesses sake. I'm your wife.” AHAHAHAHA. Really! Really! You have to be kidding me brain. This is fucked up. Well, I'll run with it.
“...So I've seen you naked then?”
“Aye my lord.” She smiles. “Many times.”
“I can not recall that.”
“Then I shall remind you tonight.” She rides off ahead. I hear the cat calls from my fellow adventurers.
“When were you bastards going to tell me I had a wife?”
“Wife? Slave driver more likely. We thought you could enjoy a few more nights of freedom Kayl'yn!” shouted Largo. The loudest laughter was Anon. I held my horse back for a while to talk with him. Out of all of the men here he was the one I had no dealings with in real life as far as I could tell.
“Troubled Kay?”
“Anon. I do not feel as I belong here. That I should have this.” I tapped the sword on my side. “Why, if I am suppose to be recovered, do I not remember anything?”
“You question your companions?”
“Anon. I do not know any of these people. Aside from the past few days I know you the same as the prince.”
“The cold iron in your blood might be interfering with your memories. It takes a long time to heal from that much magic. We barely drove off Roman before he killed you. You are lucky to be alive.”
“I do feel alive.” It was true. Despite all my efforts to remind myself. I have never felt this good before. I...I know why. I know why my name is Kayl'yn. I know why I feel happy. I just don't want it to be a dream anymore.
I want it to be real...so badly.

Impress you?

No bitch.

Impress me. Don't whine and complain after you lose. Don't go pointing fingers saying it was this guy's fault or that guy's fault when no one interferes in this. If anyone from the Axis shows their face I will kill them. Hands down. My guarantee to you that this will be fair.

I don't make idle threats sir.

Gorilla Press you? Why? It's a shitty move that leaves you open to many attacks. Nah. I'm going to just make sure your spine meets the turnbuckle post just like everyone else.

You want a fight? Okay. You got one. I will not succumb to anything. I might tap out but I will still win even if I lose.

Think about it. I know it's hard for someone like you to think instead of just shoot your damn mouth off. I hope you will prove me wrong on this. I really do. It's so dull fighting people without a fucking clue.

I'll give you one. The rope. Figure out who did it and where the murder took place.

Then again what do you have to fear from “Sub par”?

I can't cut it?


No, but I could cut you! Oh yeah. I could bust your head open with headbutts. I could do many horrible career ending things to you. No. I'm not going to break you to give you any excuses. If you win. Good job. You played by the rules of a game I am no longer interested in.

My expectations for this match is the same as all the rest. Put on a great show.

What's yours?

Look good for a possible movie deal?

A moment of flash photography for the cover of “no one gives a fuck about wrestling weekly”, or GQ?

Spare me your idiotic ramblings about yourself. You are worse than a comic book villain.

How I wish I could retcon punch your out of this world and into your own. There you could be king and no one would care because they sing your praises.

I won't.

Never will.

Because to me. You are only the king of fools.

Enjoy the burning. You might just make it out alive.

You want your world title. You can have it. All you have to do is beat me.

Good luck. Even though I am suuureeeee you won't need it.