Mafiascum Wrestling Federation (The Road To ScummerSlam!)

[AniX]

Is there anyone who has posted in this thread who would need a post removed should it become indexed?

[AniX]

Also I am glad my mod activity allowed me to get this into my ego even though I do not have a suitable avatar for becoming a wrestler.

[AniX]

The scene opens on a completely empty ring, the lights so dim as to almost produce near darkness. On cue, however, a golden spotlight opens on center ring, igniting the crowd.

“BOOOOOO!” they heckle.

“Not this guy again!”

“Mods are sods! Mods are sods!”

“AniX blows, AniX blows!”

Suddenly, the single spotlight rapidly and explosively expands to cover the entire ring, briefly blinding people just enough that when they open their eyes, they no doubt regret their heckles as the wrestler himself, AniX, the Upick God, stands before them. Their brains short circuiting out of fear, no doubt, their heckles continue, though the figure in the ring seems to pay them no mind. “Did somebody say my name?” they say with a smirk, the crowd roaring with excited “[You] boooooet, [You] booooet!”

“Your support is, as always, appreciated, my dear worshipers. But what is not appreciated is the sort of heresy I have seen in this ring lately. Olympus is known as the home of the Gods, yet the ones who bear that name in this Federation are nothing but jokes. At Clash, we saw these divine claimants lose to a cartoon meme dog and video game fodder. And then they come scurrying to me two at a time, not even brave enough to fight without the other to hold their hand. Twin cowards! This is the state of divinity? These are the so-called Gods? I say to you no! I say to you there is a better way! I say to you, my dear worshipers, that I will deliver unto these pretenders the might and strength of the modern Prometheus, who delivered unto you the greatest mafia variant of all times just as the Titan brought humans fire.”
He pauses to survey the crowd, who have been rendered into stunned silence and definitely not because security was escorting the loudest voices from the audience. “And once I have taught them to respect the true God of the Federation, at the very last moment, at what some might say at the 11th Hour…I will STOP! THEIR! CLOCK!”

The lights flicker off and on, leaving only ringing alarm clocks to fall from the ceiling onto an empty ring.

[AniX]

Oh yeah, now that's The Stuff.

[AniX]

Oh shit, I better write up my promo.

[AniX]

As the camera pans in, it shows AniX, smirking and standing tall over a man seated at a desk with a document before him, whose head was cradled in one hand and his other hand, shakily, holding a pen. True MWF fans will recognize this as the reclusive mith, the Federation’s Commissioner!

“Sign right there, for like Abraham sacrificing his child to appease God, you must sacrifice your neutrality to appease me, your Upick God” AniX roared as he pointed his divine finger at the line on the sheet. Commissioner mith craned his neck, attempting see AniX as he spoke.

“Oi, govnah” the canonically British commissioner says, his voice quaking. “It’s almost tea and crumpets time, can’t we do this some other time?” he gestures to his GIANT wristwatch, which is a tiny recreation of Big Ben.

“Cease your prattling or your pet tigers will suffer the FIST of the 11th Hour!” he curls his fist, where the words RELEASED BACK INTO WILD are clearly visibly written on it “For I, AniX, have a vision. And you signing this document is the key to achieving it.”

AniX turns to the camera, as if noticing it for the first time, and it focuses in on him.

“MWF is in crisis. The audience grows less and less, drawn away from the fun of our matches by Wrestling 3.0. But I will stop that, no matter the cost. The values I espouse will revive this Federation, MARK ME!

First, we must have greater transparency! The audience is clamoring to see why I am not booked in every match. Why I am not holding every belt. I am the best wrestler, I draw the greatest audience, I give the most sublime promos. Nothing short of RANK FAVORITISM is at work here and the audience can smell a rat. They want to see the FOUL corrupt inter-workings of this Federation and gut it so their Savior may finally get his due.

Second, we must have greater safety! Every match I’ve competed in, even the ones corrupt referees muddled, I have brutalized my opponents, left them shells of their former selves. This cannot do. The Federation must protect its wrestlers and the first step of that is protecting them FROM ME. Let the weaklings battle themselves with foam swords and plastic shields. Send me only against the best of the best, ones who can at least SURVIVE the godly beating I cannot help but deliver unto them.

Third, we must have innovation. Every match is the same. Some loser beats another loser and gets a loser belt that I bet not even most of the roster could name off the top of their head. Or a moron fights another moron over some moronic feud. It’s inane drivel. Meanwhile, I, the most innovative wrestler on the roster, am UNDERUSED and UNDERAPPRECIATED! Well, that ends now, at the stroke of your pen. Yes, it will end!”

The camera pans out again to show mith, who has produced his aforementioned tea and crumpets, which AniX now notices. “Have you not signed yet?”

“I have not” the member of the English Empire says

“My rant was at least 3 minutes long! SIGN THE DOCUMENT!”

mith’s hand scribbles something out onto the paper and AniX snatches it up, looking pleased. “This, yes, this is what I pick. This is what I pick indeed.”

[AniX]

Oh, I won again? How droll.

[AniX]

I'm the champ, stay in your lane, AniX.

Champion of what? The "Generic Championship" that is named the same as every other championship in every other league?

[AniX]

T-Bone's belt:

[AniX]

Just call me Ransik, because I took that Time Force Ranger k

down

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