Longhorn Championship Wrestling: HIGH NOON! (Promo Thread)

[Tommy Bedlam]

LONGHORN CHAMPIONSHIP WRESTLING
Presents:
HIGH NOON

Live from the Sweetwater, Texas VFW

Rules/Deadline Info


Promo Deadline:

4/30/2023 @ 11:59 PM EST



PLEASE NOTE: In the original signup thread, there was a 2,500 word promo limit put into place. After some further discussion, the limit for WORD COUNT has been dropped to 1,500. This is because the show will be taking place after an incredibly busy time for FWA. We don't want handlers or mods from the FWA to be stressed about getting a lengthy promo in.





LCW: High Noon Card





Match #1:

Jack Bentley Porter, Jr vs Rip Walker vs Dan McCain

(LCW Tristate Regional Championship)



The loss of LCW was a blow for everyone in the Texas wrestling community, but one person was most likely delighted was Oil Tycoon Jack Bentley Porter, JR. As long times fans will recall, at the time LCW was going out of business, the dastardly Oil Tycoon held the ever-so-vaulted Tristate Regional Championship, spitting in the face of tradition of the workman's belt he has lied, cheated and taken every cheap trick to keep his title. One man who took exception to this was resident grizzly bear cosplaying in a person suit, Rip Walker. Who for the last year has been trying to get that belt from JBP but the oil tycoon has done whatever he could to avoid a confrontation with Rip Walker (Which some would call cowardess but...have you SEEN Rip Walker. No one in their right mind wants to pick a fight with that guy)



In any case he was eventually forced to step in the ring during LCW's last show, where he was tossed around like he was made of paper, and looked on the verge of winning the belt...but who should reappear but former LCW World Champion Dan McCain to cost Rip Walker the title! As it turns out, a deal was struck where Jack Bentley Porter offered him a sizeable amount of money and a shot at the Tristate Regional Championship...but TWIST- Jack Bentley Porter had no interest in honoring! That's what happens when you don't get it in writing.

With two angry bulls after him, it could be argued that JBP was in an awful position...but then LCW went out of business and JBP must have thought could use that belt as an ornament to hang in his office forever more while he does whatever the hell oil barons do...but karma has come to bite him not only is he expected to defend the belt. Not only against two big mean nasty people he's cheated out of the belt in the past but by decree of acting authority Rocco Sullivan he's now expected to defend the belt in a match he's absolutely can't bend the rules, because there are no rules- A bunkhouse brawl, the concept is simple. Three men enter the bunkhouse stables...ONE MAN LEAVES.

Match #2:
Judge Victor Hearstly vs Davie Boy Rogers

Law and order. What is it? Well, in a wrestling context, it seems to be waiting for two people to have an argument in the ring and then making them fight for our amusement....It's a good gig if you can get it, But in the wild wild west, being the law means shooting up bad guys, and the like, which Deputy Davie Boy Rogers has taken on with relish. Seeing himself as the man to run all the bad guys out of his town with......mixed results, often biting off more then he can chew by trying to fight off stables all on his lonesome but he's damn endearing doing it. In the last year, his latest project to bring justice to LCW was probably his most flawed yet, being a driving force behind the reinstatement of a wart on the ass of life Judge Victor Hearstly returning after losing his sixth straight "Loser leaves LCW forever" match.

Deputy Boy Rogers felt an honourable judge could be a true force for good in the lawless world of LCW and The Judge? He just saw a good-natured roob who he can take advantage of with his slick talk managing to convince him to work as something of a henchman for the Judge, believing that his actions were for the good of the company; Victor Hearstly even promised to make him a sheriff if he helped Hearstly become LCW champion. Thankfully things never got that far as Boy Rodgers realized he was becoming a pawn for the evil judge he finally stood up to him...thus setting up this match, for the title of the LAW in LCW.
BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE the man in the middle is going to be former child star Gee Willikers...for....some reason, probably because we're pushing for a reboot and we're grabbing as little star power as we can. Don't judge!

Match #3:
Serpent's Den (Jack Parrish & Mason Jenkins) vs Tex Hollis & Calamity Jane

Ever since The Serpent's Den defeated The Lone Star Bandits, Jack Parrish and Manson Jenkins have been on a tear, keeping a stranglehold on those belts with their typical brutal tactics. It's been claimed that with the added gold and the prestige of the tag team championships, Jack Parrish's career empire has grown, as we all know there's an obscure Texas bylaw that makes a tag team championship belt holder immune from all prosecution by the law (They should really change that...) One man who has stood up to The Serpent's Den has been LCW Vet and Locker Room leader Tex Hollis,who didn't take kindly to the Serpent's Den shake down of his tattoo parlor and has made it his personal mission to restore honor to those belts...One problem though; Every person who has shown an interest in teaming with Tex has mysteriously been found injured all over the great state of Texas, allegedly by Jack Parrish's "Business Associates" Leaving him to go into his reserves, to his own personal wrestling school that he runs in Texas and his star pupil Calamity Jane, noted friend of Daphne Shelly and Lizzie Rose. Can the blend of youth and experience win the day? Or will the criminal empire of the Serpent's Den grow even more

Match #4
Plagra Negra vs Cute AF Cowboy vs Linus Badger vs Tadamasa Yamada
(Staged Elimination: The order of match types will be announced soon. The winner of this match gets a future match against an opponent of their choice.)

It's the biggest night in LCW history; for the first time ever in LCW history, High Noon is being broadcasted worldwide, and as such, the company has put their best foot forward and has brought back an old classic the Gold Rush, less of a battle royale and more of a grueling gauntlet of five extremely physically taxing matches one after the other, and to the victor? A blank check for any match, in the words of famous wrestling columnist Shakira a match "Whenever whatever" any opponent, with any stipulation at any time. Yes that does include title shots (Assuming of course, this show goes well and the WS network wants to do more after this....please keep booking us, I've been living in the crawl space since LCW went out of business) With names such as the legendary Tadamasa Yamada, powerhouse Plaga Negra, and up and coming talent like Cute AF Cowboy and crowd favorite Linus Badger this is the time for anyone and everyone to make their mark

Match #5:
The Lonestar Bandits vs. The Stable
When LCW fans take you to their heart, you stay there, and this has been the case for the Lonestar Bandits whose grit and bond has seen them work their way to the top of the company and now have become one of the most popular teams in LCW history. So naturally, for this reunion, they were among the first names on the card...so naturally, LCW officials have searched through their contact list to get the perfect tag team dream match.... ...and came up with people-in-house outfits. Look, historically LCW doesn't; have a deep tag team division, and these guys have pretty much been around forever annoying the piss out of everyone. This is the best we can do, damn it

Match #6:
CAGE WARS

House of Handsome (JJ Walker, Ace Manson, Unstoppable Tai) vs Mejor Amigo, Wes Tern, Rosie Sparks
For a large portion of LCW's history, there's been a power struggle between the defenders of LCW and the House of Handsome. A war spanning various decades, sometimes LCW wins some battles, and sometimes The House of Handsome gets some gains, and in this rebooted version of LCW, The battle between the white hats and black hats of the Texas wrestling scene, High Noon might decide the fate of LCW for years to come. The first thing new owner of LCW Tommy Bedlam did was send out the challenge to The Handsome Stranger. Fight him like a man, but as we all know, a part of what has made The Handsome Stranger so successful is the fact he never seems to go anywhere without the various version of the house of handsome. Every match with The Handsome Stranger seemed to be a handicap match; deciding that the destination of the LCW World Championship was too important, Tommy made a deal with The Handsome Stranger. He gets The House of Handsome, and Tommy rounds up a gang himself, and all six will duke it out in the most violent, brutal match in LCW history. Cage Wars. Six people are locked in a cell with weapons and no rules, and the match only stops once one team surrenders. If The House Of Handsome wins-They're able to interfere in the main event as much as they please. But if Team LCW wins, The House of Handsome is BANNED from the main event.

With stakes, this big, Tommy Bedlam has taken the calculated risk of countering the experience of The House of Handsome in Cage Wars (Well, one at least, Ace Manson has been in a LOT) with the leaders of the new generation of LCW. Luchador Mejor Amigo, The talented Wes Tern, and a woman whose making her LCW debut IN the cage Rosie Sparks, it's a bold ploy to counteract the House of Handsome's experience and teamwork and many will hope that the three outcasts can set the table for High Noon being the House of Handsome's last stand.

Match #7:
MAIN EVENT
LCW World Championship Match
The Handsome Stranger vs. Tommy Bedlam
in a....
TEXAS BARROOM BRAWL

In one corner, It's the nightmare of LCW, the bane of the Bedlam's family existence and a man who has dedicated his entire existence to burning LCW down to the ground and rebuilding it in his image, The Handsome Stranger And in the other, the prodigal son After years of staking his place in the forefront of the wrestling industry, Tommy Bedlam has brought back LCW back from the grave and has used his influence to get the company that his grandfather and father built with their sweat and blood on a world wide stage and is now set on defending the Bedlam's family's legacy and their title belt , and there maybe no better way to honor his family then finally lay to rest The Handsome Stranger in Texas Death Match, A match that requires not only a pinfall but for a wrestler to be physically unable to answer a ten count Rest assured with the amount of history and lore surrounding this match, with Tommy Bedlam looking to end the man that broke his grandfather's neck and terrorized his father and we all know just how obsessed The Handsome Stranger is with that LCW Championship and has proven time and again, there is no low he won't sink to- his crowning achievement might just be spitting in the face of The Bedlam family by taking THEIR belt and killing the spirit of LCW once and for all. It's a war. It's the biggest match of LCW History It's High noon





​

 

[AON]

We zoom on into a typical high-quality, high-production studio we're used to from the high-quality team from FWA; even though this is kind of an unusual circumstance, the goal? Talking headpieces you'd see from an FWA PPV, but this isn't a usual FWA PPV; this is for LCW's High Noon, the first time in LCW history where they were exposed to these kinds of production values, thanks to Tommy Bedlam, LCW has that big money FWA machine behind it and as such Katie Lynn Goldsmith was sitting in a reasonably comfortable looking chair surrounded by various cameramen, sound engineers and people that you'd generally need for these kinds of things,

"He's late. Are we sure we need to talk to this guy? I've heard stories about him, and he doesn't sound-"

"Look, if it's not too forward to say before I got a job in FWA, I worked down at Texas. Just don't push him, don't talk back, be as calm as possible, and you'll be ok."

"What happens if-"

Just then, the door flung open, causing all conversation to stop as an older gentleman stepped into the room, his forehead covered with a white stetson hat clad in a black leather jacket and blue jeans. He didn't introduce himself; he didn't need to; his reputation proceeded him, and here stood Steve Manson. Better known to the wrestling world as The Handsome Stranger.

Almost instantly, any cheer was crushed by the mere presence of The Handsome Stranger; the temperature dropped abruptly even while casually entering the room. The extremely menacingly aura of the LCW legend seemed to come off the man in powerful waves, even when quietly walking into a room; just that simple motion was enough to send everyone on edge; they seemed nervous like a wild tiger had just been let loose in the room, a tiger that could spring forward and attack anyone at any given moment, The Handsome Stranger seemed to relish this role, the already tall figure of The Tall Handsome Stranger seemed to grow in inches as if the very fear he inspired empowered him. He enveloped the entire scene in a cold stare, taking it all in before he slowly strolled into the room, smacking gum obnoxiously in his mouth, he walked up to Katie Lynn Goldsmith, who swallowed down her evident discomfort being around a man who prowled the world like a man looking for an excuse to lash out at any moment, for any reason at any person.

"Steve Manson? Katie Lynn Goldsmith. FWA. I'm delighted to meet you.

That was a lie, and they both knew it. Despite that keeping an air of professionalism, Katie put out her hand to shake...

The Handsome Stranger just stared blankly at it.

Awkward.

Moving past this awkward moment, Katie took the same hand and gestured to the empty chair behind her.

"Why don't you sit, and we can get started?"

The Handsome Stranger looked behind her as if only now noticing the chair for the first time. Blinking somewhat, he let out a snort of amusement as if the idea of a comfortable chair was a novel one to him. Despite that, he slowly leaned down and tilted his hat to the side.

"Well, ain't this grand...."

Another snort of bitter amusement followed, which Katie tried to ignore as she gestured for the camera to start rolling.

"Well, thank you for joining us; I'm sure you being on the world stage and being exposed to such a massive audience for the first time in your career is a thrill for you.

No response, The Handsome Stranger just stared dead at the interviewer as if his resentful silence was answering more than enough.

"So, for the members of the FWA audience that don't know you beyond you facing Tommy Bedlam at High Noon. Who is The Handsome Stranger?"

As quick as a whip, The Handsome Stranger leans over the side and pointedly spits on the ground beside him, clearly not impressed with the airs and graces of the fancy studio and these puffball-friendly interview questions.

"Nobody."

Simple as that. He just lapsed into silence as if nothing else was left to say before shrugging and repeating himself to ensure Katie Lynn had heard him.

"I'm nobody. I'm a tramp. I'm a bum. I'm a hobo in a box car with a jug of wine. I'm also a straight razor if you get too close to me..."

The man in the white hat's voice barely raised above a whisper. Still, no one could deny the obvious power behind them, like a full orchestra playing bombastic instrumentals but turned to the lowest possible volume. The former LCW Champion looked around him at the studio full of people and quirked an eyebrow.

"When I came into this room, I noticed your little fancy production team here, and I couldn't help but notice that when I walked into the room, everyone was standing up real respectfully. I like that.

He nodded emotionlessly

"But see, that ain't what you SHOULD be doing. Na. What you SHOULD be doin' when I walk into the room is bow down. Every single one of you should get down on your hands and knees and kiss the ground I walk on. You asked me who I am? I'm the reason why you lock your door... Why you look over your shoulder when you walk alone at night? Because I'm the man, you just don't want ever meet in your life.

Steve Manson leaned back in his chair and folded over his mind, and took a deep breath.

"I'm just a stranger. I'm nobody and nothing...and how do you stop someone you don't even know.?"

He let the answer linger in the air as if that was answer enough, and he didn't just sound like the most ominous person alive.

"Well...Ok? I don't know what to do with that..."

Katie Lynn coughed uncomfortably, not sure how to respond to an answer like that.

"Let's talk about the show itself, High Noon. Even before you take on Tommy Bedlam for the world heavyweight championship, Your House of Handsome will compete in Cage Wars; if I can just ask you to talk about that match and, more specifically, the House of Handsome itself, which is quite a remarkable group, one that has gone on for decades and has seen a large number of members come and go. You seem to inspire an impressive amount of loyalty.

"Because my truth is simple, and the Bedlam's truth is complicated."

"Which is?"

"It's a dog-eat-dog world; this business of ours ain't nothing real but the money and the miles; everything else is all a fairytale rookies tell themselves when they get into this business; ain't no such thing as family. There's no such thing as friendship in professional wrestling; it's a jungle out there. You either kill or be killed.

The Handsome Stranger pauses to spit out his gum on the ground violently, causing Katie to flinch.

"Once upon a time, Blackjack Bedlam took a small skinny kid from a shotgun shack in Austin, Texas and filled his head with dreams and ideas, and he built him up...just so his no-talent son had a head to step on to climb to the top, and once I dared to question that grand plan, I was given the boot. God kicked his right-hand angel out of the promised land and into the dirt with all the other pathetic little worms that weren't his chosen ones...You tell me the House of Handsome is loyal to me? I call bullshit. We're not a family. These are just some kids I found on the side of the road after they were abandoned and left for dead by the world of pro wrestling; these children that come in the night with guns and knives learn from the world around them how this business works, if you told me right now, you'd hand me the LCW World title right now if I broke my brother's neck? I wouldn't even blink. I'd just make sure LCW tells me the hospital room that I need to send flowers to"

It was kind of creepy how easily The Handsome Stranger said this, like he was stating an obvious fact.

"They know that, and they respect that I'm the only one who wants to tell them the cold hard reality of this world; they know when I sent them a task. It gets done! That's why They're going to win the Cage Wars; you know why? Because I told them to win. That's how it works. When I stand on top of the mountain and say do it. It gets done! If it doesn't get done? Then I'll move on it, and that's the last thing in the world you want me to do; you don't want to invoke me because I ain't got a gentle touch; when I put someone down, they STAND down, you understand me?

Yes, Katie did understand. She was sitting opposite, at best, a sociopath and worse? A full-on delusional lunatic who was hitting her with a cold stare that seemed to be looking through her to the back of the chair; she was clearly uncomfortable. Still, she's had over ten years in the world of professional wrestling; she dealt with unhinged individuals a-plenty, so she knows to keep a professional distance between her and them and just keep them talking.

"....Tommy Bedlam?"

It was probably the most straightforward question Katie Lynn Goldsmith will ever ask, but she didn't need to set up any more of the match; anyone watching would know the history, know the bad feelings between the pair and how violent a match between them is likely to get, nothing else was needed. The Handsome Stranger tilted her head somewhat, contemplating his answer, stabbing the inside of his scar-covered cheek with his tongue.

"You know the worst thing you can do to a wild dog? You bring him into a nice fancy house, shelter him, keep him warm, love him, hand him a plate of stake every day....and then set him loose in the wild again. That dog wouldn't last a day because it doesn't know how to survive any more. He can't hunt for food and fend for himself out in the wild. That's Littl' Tommy Bedlam. The pampered little poodle living off a six-figure contract, wearing cowboy boots that cost three grand, flying to his ranch via private jet, panderin' to people in rural towns he wouldn't be seen dead in. I'll put my hands up; it's a good gig if you can get it; he's probably made more money than his bastard of a grandfather and his deadbeat daddy combined. He can probably cash out right now and live comfortably off FWA for life.....But it looks like he missed his ol' Uncle Steve too much, didn't he?

A humourless smirk crept across The Handsome Stranger's face revealing a row of yellow teeth slowly turning yellow from age, whiskey and cheap cigarettes.

"We have Little Tommy Bedlam, the pampered runt of the Bedlam litter, but the thing with living fine is a dog forgets what it feels like to be hungry. I don't mean what you think hungry means; I mean true actual hunger, An ache in the pit of your stomach that builds and builds like an inferno until it feels like your stomach is going to eat itself till it rots away your brain and leaves you willing to do anything to cure it. That's true hunger, and that's what I've been feeling since the day the circus left town, leaving me to pick up whatever I can from the dumpster while Tommy Goddamn Bedlam is living off champagne and caviar!

The bitterness in The Handsome Stranger's words seemed to pour off him, a quiet rage building up in him as he spoke.

"The worst thing Tommy Bedlam could have done is pick a fight with an old, vicious mangy hungry street dog. Because a pampered little pup just can't remember what it's like to have to fight like your life depends on it. I've been fighting for my life for the last thirty years down in the mud and in the scum with the rest of the animals. Now just like every goddamn Bedlam that came before him, he thinks he can swan on into Texas, be treated like a goddamn conquering hero and make his name over The Handsome Stranger?

The Handsome Stranger made a dismissive gesture with his hand as if insulted by the very idea.

"What you big-time FWA stooges gotta realize is that the LCW Championship? It is the most respected belt on the independent scene; for thirty years around these here parts, it's been the last thing wrestlers thought of when they went to bed. And the first thing on their minds when they woke up and why? Why was it so respected? For the simple fact, it belongs to me! Sure, Tommy has the belt, but it's MY property. Without the LCW championship? My life has no meaning, and without me? That title is just a belt. It is a part of me, and I am a part of it, and I haven't been whole since it was taken from me...But don't worry; I'm fixin' to get it back...one way or another.

The Handsome Stranger leans his head down and stares off into space, his eyes a thousand miles away.

"Blackjack Bedlam brought me into this business and taught me everything he knew, and I stabbed him in the back, broke his neck and put him in the dirt. I hated Sammy Bedlam but let me tell ya something for nothing, he had my respect, and I still took my belt and whipped him like a damn dog until he cried for mercy. His back was scarred, and his flesh bubbled, so what do you think I'm going to do to that little runt to get back my property in a Texas Death Match?

Katie Lynn couldn't help herself.

"What are you going to-"

Before Katie Lynn could even finish her sentence faster than a man on the wrong side of his fifties should be, The Handsome Stranger jumped out of his chair and lunged towards Katie Lynn. Despite herself, Katie couldn't help but let out a screech of fear and flinched backwards and covered her face for an oncoming attack that never came. Katie eventually opened her eyes to behold The Handsome Stranger, his gnarled grizzled face inches from hers and his hands on her armrests.

"I'm going to make sure that when Tommy Bedlam gets to hell, he'll tell the devil what his granddaddy and his daddy already told him. A Handsome Stranger sent him."

And just like that, The Handsome Stranger started cackling, an unhinged and unnerving sound, clearly revelling in the fear he brings out in people. Katie turns her head in disgust as The Handsome Stranger's laughter echoes off the halls like the baying of the hounds of hell.​

 

[AON]

THUD-!

THUD-!

THUD-!

THUD-!

THUD-!

Despite it not being a particularly loud sound, there's something about someone kicking a kicking bag just right that seems to thunder around the room like the arch angels calling for the end of days.

This makes sense because traditionally when Tadamasa Yamada delivered a kick, it must have felt like The end of the world.

There was no doubt he was past his prime, no one would say it, but he feared the ever-looming presence of father time slowly getting closer and closer; the only way to keep him away? Run. Run hard and run fast and never EVER slow down. That's why Tadamasa Yamama was currently striking the kick pad like it owed him money and has been for the last two hours, because if he slowed down, even for one second? There might be no going back.

This was Tadamasa Yamada's way of life; Training in dojos, fighting, recovering and fighting again. He didn't fill the need to change things up; even as his agent was speaking to him, he didn't take his eyes off the kick pads; lost in his own little world, he was the picture of calm focus, just throwing kicks.

"-And SJPW wants you in their International Championship number one contenders next week," He said, rolling through his phone as he spoke.

Yamada didn't respond, just kept kicking away; evidently, that was his way of answering in the affirmative.

"That's going to be a big match for you; your contract is coming up if you're the number one contender in a championship match...well, they have to offer you a pretty sweet deal, don't they?"

Again, nothing. The agent paused for a moment...wondering how to break the news and NOT get the reaction he knew he'd probably get

"Oh, and Tommy Bedlam called-So about that international championship match..."

The kicking stopped.

"What was that?"

"Yeah, so the international championship is next month, and you need to focus on how you want-"

"What did Tommy want?"

A deep sigh escaped the agent's mouth; clearly, he was hoping to avoid this conversation by passing over it as fast as he possibly could—no such luck.

"Ok, look, Tommy Bedlam called my office the other day; he's talked the FWA suits into running a live television special for an LCW reunion. It's pretty much a house show, not much money, some exposure on the WS network, but that's about it, so we can mo-"

Yamada stopped his training entirely as he turned to his agent, perfectly calm as he took a sip from his water.

"I'll do it."

"Tad-! That's not-"

"Give Tommy a call; I'll be on a plane to Texas tonight."

"Tad, listen to me. I know you don't want to hear this, but as your promoter, I have to step in here and tell you that's a bad idea. You have an international championship contenders match coming up in a month. That's either going to make or break you for the rest of your career. I know you love that place...but you're too big for them. It's a small independent company on the other side of the world that you carried on your back twenty years ago-You're not thinking with your head."

"Ok, fine. I'll call Tommy and say I'll be there."

"Tad' you carried that small regional company on your back twenty years ago, and now you're going to risk your long-term prospects for a chance to relive your glory days? Get a nice little Nostalgic pop?"

Yamada stared blankly at the agent; his expression seemed to be carved out of stone.

"Tad, you can't risk your long-term health just because of your "loyalty" to that place. You've done enough; you've given LCW all you had."

"....Not yet...but I will-"
----------------------------------

Click-! Look, LCW has just created an entire youtube channel; it's linked to most of the FWA's social media accounts, but you really expect a small-time regional independent company to have a full-scale social media team? Still, it just shows that FWA is all aboard the LCW train and giving this reboot the best chance it possibly can; it's been fairly active in the last few weeks, posting ads and trailers and various short promos as a means to announce whose showing up, speaking of which our subject for today is standing in front of a simple white wall, where we see dressed in a baggy Dallas Cowboys hoodie with matching baseball cap, LCW Legend and former World Heavyweight Champion The Texas Dragon Tadamasa Yamada, he rubs his chin a wry smile on his face.

"There's an old saying; "You can never go home again, but come High Noon in Sweetwater Texas, The Dragon proves them all wrong."

He speaks in fluent Japanese, but subtitles appear at the bottom of the screen; Handy that..

Near twenty years ago to the day, I was planning to retire from this business; I was going nowhere fast, too skinny to be a heavyweight, too big to be a cruiserweight. Every door in the puro scene was closed to me, and I thought...that was it- This life is a no-go for me, I had nowhere else to go, all doors were closed to me...All except one.

Yamada held up his forefinger to the camera.

"Jerry Jenkins, The Bedlams, Rocco Sullivan, they all saw something in me that even I didn't see in myself and gave me a chance to explore who I was, Who I could be, to find myself and what I found deep inside me? A dragon. Forged in fire and built in the wrestling capital of the world. Texas"

He points to his hoody, particularly the part that says "Texas" like it was a badge of honour.

"And when I say that, I don't mean to pander; I don't say that off-handedly; no, I truly believe that. This state, this place, this company had no reason to accept me, and I truly believe any other place in the world they wouldn't have, but Texas accepted me, they welcomed me with open arms, they embraced what my vision of wrestling can and should be, and because of that? Because of their love and energy? This dragon flew.

A little too cheesy of a line there? Maybe, but screw it; Yamada had no interest in ranking up cool points, and we all knew he could literally fart in his hand, and the LCW fans would still adore him, so we'll allow him a cheesy one-liner from time to time.

"I wouldn't be the same person I am today if it wasn't for LCW. I owe my success, my career, and my life! to Longhorn championship wrestling. So when I got the phone call about High Noon? I would have swam three oceans to be here.

Yamada yawned slightly, showing the effects of jetlag, but that wouldn't slow him down.

"I don't know what the future holds, I don't know if this is a one-off deal or if this is the start of something new and beautiful, but when it comes to High Noon and the Gold Rush? My goal isn't to win it, would it be nice? Of course, but winning wouldn't be a complete victory for me. No, my victory lies in one thing and one thing only, making this the greatest performance of my life and dragging the best performance of their career out of Plagra Negra, out of Cute AF Cowboy, out of Linus Badger. I want the Gold Rush to top every single match FWA could possibly put on. Why? Because the greater the match, the more successful the show, the more successful the show. The more chance that High Noon isn't just a one-night reunion...but a rebirth."

He punctuates that last word by hammering his fist into his palm to underscore just how important that is to him.

I owe everything to LCW. I owe my life. So I see this as my chance to make sure that LCW lives again, and I promise you, that's not a chance I plan on passing up; I'm not as good as I once was, but I promise YOU, every single LCW fan, that at the Gold Rush? You will get every single last drop of vile and venom in my body, in my soul, to make sure every person watching knows how much I LOVE this place. Every fan knows they just got their money's worth, and if that's not the case, I will personally mail every fan a refund because...this is not just a show.

This is my life.

LCW is my life.

And I will give everything I got to it.​

 

[Nostradamus]

The Gentleman – Red
Linus “Chainsaw” Badger – Brown


Very Good, Linus

“Linus?”

The gentle, loving, and caring voice of Linus “Chainsaw” Badger’s caretaker, only known as The Gentlemen, dances through their modest wooden abode as he searches for his friendly giant. The house is reminiscent of those from the old west that bordered the industrial age. Large enough to fit a family of three yet small enough to serve as a nice cabin-getaway.

“Linus, are we playing hide and seek again? You know these old bones can’t keep up like they used to, my boy, ha ha ha.”

The creaking of floorboards and scratching of metal on wood stops The Gentleman in his tracks. He puts on a playful smile and hunches over to speak in a whisper.

“Linus, I can heeeaaarrr youuuu. Remember, you have to stay quiet when you play hide and seek.”

“RRRAAAAHHHHH!!!!”

From behind a shabby looking brown sofa jumps out Linus Badger holding his trusty chainsaw… that is currently all revved up and coming towards the Gentleman!... who is unflinching at the gas-powered death machine coming towards him.

“Linus, now what did I say about the chainsaw indoors?”

“Hrrrmmm…”

Somberly, Linus turns off the chainsaw and brings it to his side causing the metal teeth to meet the floor with a thud. The Gentleman, with the playful look on his face of a parent happily teaching a toddler, stares at Linus.

“Very good Linus, you can have it indoors, but it must stay off. And why is that?”

“Mmph!”

Now filled with excitement and energy, Linus frantically searches his numerous pockets until he finds a pad with paper and a pencil. He scribbles and erases over and over, scratching the side of his head every few seconds until he gets his answer down and shows it to The Gentleman.

“Correct Linus! Because we don’t want to damage our lovely home! She’s old, so we need to take care of her. Oh dear, speaking of taking care of things, what is your favorite task Linus?!”

Once again, a very happy Linus scribbles on his notepad and shows the results to The Gentleman.

“Ah yes, the field! That is where you’re supposed to turn that chainsaw loose, right Linus?”

“Mmmhmmm!”

Linus’ gleeful grunts fade as he turns and hurriedly makes his way outside, nearly taking the front door of their house off the hinges as he does.

“Oh my, that boy does not know his own strength. I’ve been meaning to get that door changed anyway, suppose that was a good thing!”

The Gentleman makes his way outside at a much slower pace than Linus. Now outside we see the absolutely massive amount of farmland The Gentleman owns. Surrounding the house is a sprawling farm filled with crops of all kinds, animal pens and enclosures of multiple species, two silos, and a large garden with a beautifully carved and ornate wooden sign that, in contrast with its design, crudely has “LiNus’s gardin” written on it.

“Ah, now where did he get off to-oh.”

In the distance The Gentleman sees Linus, who has somehow made it the distance of a football field, using his chainsaw to intricately trim away at a stump of wood. With a smile on his face, The Gentleman slowly walks his way over to Linus.

“Hm. Hm. Hm. Hm-hm hm hm.”

“I’m glad to finally see that stump gone, it’s been such an eyesore, thank you very much Linus. Say, what’ve you made here? These look very nice.”

The Gentleman reaches down and picks up one of what appears to be a toy-sized wooden figurine. The figurine, although a bit jagged and only brown in color, is noticeably in the shape of a cowboy.

“I will always be amazed with your talents Linus, I tell ya. I can never understand how you manage to create such beautiful and detailed things with that chainsaw, it’s like your magical!”

Linus lets out a few happy laugh-like grunts as he revs his chainsaw.

“I see that you’re thinking about your upcoming match, aren’t you? Why, this figure I’m holding looks like that cowboy fella. And those others on the ground look like the other two, Pla-gra Ne-gra and Tada-masa Ya-mada. I do hope I said their names right, I don’t mean to offend anybody.”

Linus shrugs and chuckles.

“Right, I know you don’t either, ha ha ha. Well the pronunciation of their names doesn’t matter in this moment, does it? We both know what does matter though, right?”

Linus, completely snapping into a different demeanor, violently revs his chainsaw and yells as he holds it above his head.

“MMMRRRAAAWWW!!!”

Linus wildly swings his chainsaw around, including in the direction of The Gentlemen who quickly ducks out of the way as if he is completely used to this exact scenario. He pops back up with a huge smile on his face and places his hand on Linus’ shoulder, who aggressively pants as he calms down.

“Exactly my boy. You and I have very important work. Our friends are expecting us to put on a great show at LCW: High Noon. They’re so excited to see you! And what better way to put on a show than by winning that Gold Rush match and beating your opponents within an inch of their lives! Doesn’t that sound like some wonderful fun, Linus?”

Linus pulls his notepad back out and writes “YES!” in big letters followed by a drawing underneath it. The Gentleman examines the drawing and responds.

“Such a fascinating imagination you have, Linus! But no, you cannot actually dismember your opponents with your chainsaw like you drew here. That wouldn’t sit well with all of our friends, would it? You aren’t an evil monster, you’re everyone’s favorite and friendly giant. But, as I always say, dismemberment is never off the table, it’s just always a last resort.”

Linus Badger momentarily drops his chainsaw and reaches out towards The Gentleman, giving him a very tight bearhug and lifting him off the ground.

“Ha ha ha, I love you too Linus!”

Linus puts The Gentleman down and picks his chainsaw back up. He stares at his father figure as if asking what to do next.

“Ah yes, our next task. We have to get on with a few of the cows now. I must always thank you Linus, it has been so much easier to deal with them in-house as opposed to contracting a disgusting and inhumane slaughterhouse.”

Linus Badger revs up his chainsaw as both he and The Gentleman walk towards the red barn where cows can be heard mooing in peace.​

 

[AON]

"My name is Tai Aikae..and I was bred for war."

Out of the looming darkness comes the unmistakeable sounds of tribal drums echoing through the scene as fast vibrate clips sweep by us in a collection of clips of various large wrestlers stepping in an LCW ring, most of them covered in all manners of tribal tattoos, most noticeably old grainy footage of an impossibly muscular Polynesian gentleman with long flowing black hair and a crown of flowers around his head, as any true wrestling fan knows is the legendary Tana The Mighty, a jolly smile on his face as he happily destroys every opponent he's in the ring with, and he's not the only one. He seems to be the central figure in this quick-fire video package, but he's not the only one; as the tribal drums get faster and more intense, we see flashes of the likes of The Samoan Dragons and Tank Aikae dominating their opponents. In short, the legacy of the famed Aikae family.

But abruptly, the drums stop, the video package cuts off, and we're just left with one singular image, A tall, powerful-looking woman clad in a leather jacket standing in front of a chain link face, her hands curled up against the enclosure as she stares a hole through the camera.

"Atonu E Sa'o"

The words in her family's come off in a slow yet serious drawl tongue.

"For four decades, my family, my people have lived by those words "Atonu E Sa'o" "Might makes right." The strong rule the jungle; the lions, the hawks, the sharks roam this earth hurting their prey. That's the law of the jungle. The strong don't have to ask; they take. If they knock on your door, you don't ask questions. You just let them in, give them what they want and hope they don't burn down the House as they go. My forefathers understood that. My grandfather came to America in 1961 from the islands to find his family a better life; he had nothing to his name but an understanding that no one was ever going to give him a handout. If he wanted to seek his family and fortune, he'd have to take it..and from the dirt Tana The Mighty built a dynasty of the greatest warriors the world of wrestling has ever seen, an army marching to the battle cry of Tana The Mighty " Atonu E Sa'o"

Tai beats her chest with pride in time with those three words.

"At High Noon, I honour my forefathers, my family by carrying on my family's tradition of stomping out the weak and stepping over their mangled bodies."

A small sinister smile appears on her face as she lightly shakes the wall in front of her with no small amount of pleasure, no doubt thinking of all the various creative ways she can use steel to destroy her opponents.

"Do you think this scares me?! Do you think I'm intimidated by being locked in a cell and fighting for my life? I was BORN for moments like Cage Wars! I am the embodiment of four generations of the Aikae Warrior spirit. Battle is in my blood! War comes as naturally to me as breathing! No retreat! No Surrender! No Fear! O tagata palaai e feoti i le tele o taimi. O le toa e ola e Faavavau!

Again she shakes the cage wall more enthusiastically this time, showcasing just how much power is in her frame.

"Do you think team LCW can say the same? Mejor Amigo. Wes Tern. Rosie Sparks. Can you walk into this cage without fear of death? Without getting nervous, without the thought of "Oh God, what's going to happen to me once that door closes?!

Tai snarls like a wild dog just waiting to be let off the chain.

"Call this match what you want. The House Of Handsome vs Team LCW, but as far as I'm concerned, there is NO Team LCW. There's a joke. They are a joke. You are a joke for even thinking that anyone, let alone this band of misfits, could beat a unit as powerful as The House of Handsome!

She steps back for a moment looking incredibly disciplined and incredibly intimidating.

"Cage Wars or no Cage Wars, there is no way in hell that these....weak...brittle...pack of prey could ever stand up to the House that looms over LCW and me. They are only mere morals. The House of Handsome is made up of divinity. We walk the earth like Gods, and we can end you within seconds!"

She spreads open her arms.

"Look at me- LOOK AT ME-! I am the perfect warrior. The physical pinnacle. No man's strength can match my own, nor anyone's dedication. I am a ready-made tank, built for even the most destructive of wars. I can take anything thrown my way without the slightest flinch. I live off bloodshed! You think they call me Unstoppable for no reason? It's what I am! Nothing stops me-! NOTHING! I destroy everything and everyone in my path! I leave nothing but a wake of absolute decimation and vanquishing of hope! I am the bringer of doom!

Jesus Christ, this chick is scary; when she screams, it feels like the chain link steel wall shakes with the amount of force behind it!

"So Rosie...Amigo...Tex...Don't feel so bad. You're mice living among giants—antelopes running from lions. Pray. That is your role in this life. So before you step into that cage, just know that you will never...EVER... be able to stop the unstoppable no matter how hard you try! Because this world is ours! You can't stop it! You can't stop me! I'M UNSTOPPABLE!"

Tai shrugs almost apologetically.

"This is the law of nature; the mighty feed off the weak, and deep down, you know that's true. It's in your nature. It's a primal instinct deeply encoded in your DNA. On some level, food knows it's food and once that cage door closes? It's not going to be a match.

It's feeding time!​

 

[Rosie]

A grainy old school movie filter sets on a Western Frontier town. One street in the dusty plains with wooden buildings, including a Saloon, a Sheriff's office to name a few. The entrance to the town has a wooden gate written on it “Longhorn Valley.” The town folks are on edge as they peek out behind barrels, boxes, fences, horses, anything that can give them cover. They know what is coming as the town’s clock tower is slowly approaching high noon.

A showdown. Six cowboys, three per side, make their way to the main road. One side features a woman and two men, each with matching black waistcoats along with their chaps and hats. On the back is a matching logo of a skull with a ten-gallon hat. The font on it reads “Handsome.” They appear to be no-good outlaws. The three non-descript cowboys across from them appear nervous as they approach. A young woman hides behind a barrel near her husband. She whispers.

“I wish Sheriff Bedlam wasn’t out of town… He’d straighten those vermin out!”

Her husband frowns. “He’s strong, but he needs back-up. That gang has been causing us problems for years…”

The leader of the challengers to the “Handsome Gang” steps forward.

“Alright, partna’, this town ain’t big enough for you guys. And seeing that the Sheriff is busy chasin’ down your leader, we’re steppin’ to you.”

One of the Handsome Gang members steps forward, a younger guy with blonde locks.

“Step up, you’ll get dropped down. We own Longhorn Valley. Always will.”

“Then how about this, fellas.”

The crew leader representing the town responds.

“Back to back. Ten paces. Clock strikes noon. We shoot. Have some honor in your lives for once.”

The Handsome crew nod in return and exchange brief glances. There is a snide, villainous smirk on their faces. The crews approach and there is tension in the town. The “heroes” turn their backs and the Handsome gang turn their backs. They glance at the clock, a minute to noon. Slowly, they begin to take their paces.

One step.

Two.

Three. The heroes have a bit of hesitation to each step. A feeling of distrust. Sensing this, the spokesperson for the Handsome gang quips.

“What? Scared?”

“Keep steppin’ …”

The hero nervously says. They continue.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six…

The villains stop taking steps. They turn and take their pistols out from their holsters. Pointing them towards the heroes. The town gasps, though given the nature of the Handsome gang, it should not be surprising. The heroes take another step, but a lady shouts, fearful.

“Look out! They’re shootin’!”

The heroes turn around, but the Handsome gang has the jump, firing forward. One of them is shot in the head. The other in the heart as their “Leader” is shot in the shoulder. He drops his gun and falls to the ground in agony. His partner’s, down, dead. The Handsome Gang approach, the two others have their guns pointed at him, daring him to make a move as he bleeds in agony.

“Not so tough now, are you?”

The young brash one speaks out. He turns to the crowd.

“There ain’t nobody ready to step up to our house of Handsome!” He shouts. “Ol’ Sheriff Bedlam is on a wild goose chase, ready to fall in our trap. After him, you ain’t got nothing! We run Longhorn Valley! Is there anyone MAN enough, to step to the most dangerous gang in the west!?”

A silence cuts through the air. A tumbleweed blows in the town. Everyone is scared.

“Come on! All ya’ll are horse shit! Where’s your heroes!? Come on!? If nobody steps up,”

He points to the fallen leader, still in great pain.

“This man meets his reaper in a slow and painful death!”

The clattering of horse hooves is heard from both ends of the street. Turning down one side, a man in a mask on horseback enters. Someone who looks like a mysterious but true friend. Across, another man with a cowboy hat. He seems like he could die a million ways in the west. Unlikely heroes. The Handsome crew…

Can’t help but laugh. They are in stitches looking at them. Is THIS the best they can do?

“Oh man, I didn’t know this was a comedy! Anyone else!?”

Several people in the town turn to the saloon as those famous wooden doors swing open. A girl walks through. She is all decked out in a girly western attire with a skirt, waist-coat, and hat mixed with vibrant colours. Her long blonde locks are visible under her hat. Mixed in her clocks are rhinestones. Colourful pinks and blues. She looks up with a pretend tough girl look, but yet her smile is genuinely warm and comforting. She puts forth her best southern accent.

“Alright, you pinhead, your time is up.”

“Who you callin’ pinhead?” He scoffs at her. “And what in the world is up with your accent? You mockin’ me, girl?”

Ending the little routine, she laughs.

“Nope. Was just trying to fit in. But you’re right. I’m not from here.”

She goes down the steps onto the street with her pink cowboy boots clang one the ground with her spurs.

“I’m what you might call an outsider. A bit of an outlaw.”

“An outlaw that looks like a piece of fruit.”

The Handsome member responds and all three of them slap their knees and laugh like the country folk they are. The girl smirks.

“I do things my way. Now I don’t owe much to the people here. But it's safe to say there is one thing I don’t like.”

Pulling her pistol out from her holster, she spins it around with her finger as her two unlikely allies approach, both on horseback with their own pistols.

“And that’s some no-good punks who walk around bullying people! So I got a call from the Sheriff to help get rid of a few pests that have been causing these people grief for far too long!”

“And WHO do you think you are?!” The Handsome Gang member shouts.

“I’m Rosie Sparks.”

“Not your dang name, girl!” He groans. “I mean, who do you think you are acting like some beacon of hope and justice? Don’t you know how things work here? Or the real world. People like us do what we want because it’s lawless here! There’s no right or wrong, just survival!”

Going up to Rosie, he points his gun at her. Rosie’s allies do the same to him as the villain’s allies also join in aiming their pistols.

“What? You think you’re better because you’re ‘nice’ look what happened to those other punks! They’re DEAD! But I’m not the type of man to hurt a pretty lady like yourself…”

He reaches and gently runs his hand along a portion of her hair. Rosie rolls her eyes.

“So I’ll give you a chance to save yourself and your friends. Go back to where you came from. Or else-”

Lifting her knee, Rosie Sparks nails the big baddy RIGHT between the legs! He winces and drops his gun. His allies can’t even react as they are just surprised with a low blow. The two amigos of Rosie ride on horseback and lasso the two villains together, spinning their ropes tightly as they are incapacitated. Rosie picks up her foe’s pistol and holds it up, pointing at her foe.

“NO. I’m not going anywhere. I know there’s a ‘war’ going on right now. I know I need to help. I may be young, and I may have some things to learn, but I know enough to know that you guys are a genuine problem here, and sometimes you need a California girl to solve a Texas sized problem!”

Putting the gun to the guy’s chin, Rosie says…

“So I’m coming to Sweetwater, Texas for Longhorn Championship Wrestling: High Noon!”

“What?”

He blinks.

“And I’m taking on the House of Handsome with Wes Turn and Mejor Amigo inside of Cage Wars! I’m going to make myself known by helping rid LCW of a major problem on my first night!”

“So… This is a wrestling commercial?” He asks.

“Yep, and uhh, you’re the metaphor for the bad guys so sorry but-”

Rosie apologizes in advance before firing her gun at his face, felling the villain once and for all. She shrugs before blowing the smoke from her pistol. Turning her back to the camera, she twirls her guns before the former actress looks over the shoulder.

“At LCW High Noon, the Sparks are gonna fly. See you then, partna's.”

She winks to the camera before walking away. The screen shows the LCW show logo with the information for tickets as the mini-movie reel burns away.

​

 

[Jimmy King]

It’s a beautiful day on the Walker Family ranch in Dallas, Texas, and the massive Rip Walker has finished up all his duties on the ranch. Rip wipes the sweat away from his brow, then polishes off a Bud Light can. He tosses the can in a waste bin nearby and heads towards another ranch area when he notices the camera following him.

“Howdy! I didn’t know you’ll be here yet, but I know why. For those who might not be familiar with me, my name is Rip Walker, and this is The Walker Family Ranch. I won’t bore you with the details, but it all started with my great grandfather, and now I help out my parents any way I can here on this ranch.”

“I know why you’re here, and it’s not to hear about my family or life story. I know there’s a certain show coming up. I’d be a damn fool not to know that since I’m on the card! I’m talking about Longhorn Championship Wrestling’s High Noon event, and I’m not just in any old match, no sir, I’m in a Bunkhouse Brawl. I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a good old time!”

Rip reaches the area he was heading to and retrieves an ax. Rip admires the ax, and he slowly runs a finger down the blade, and he feels the dullness of the blade. He finds the tools that he needs and starts going to work with sharpening the blade.

“I won’t be alone in that Bunkhouse Brawl, no sir, I’ll be joined by not one but two individuals. One of them is a man I’ve become very familiar with. Jack Bentley Porter, the oil tycoon. The man that always seemed to find a way to avoid a confrontation with me, but eventually, he had to face his fears and step inside that ring with me and defend his beloved Tri-State Regional Championship. I had old Jack right where I wanted him. He was ripe for the picking, but then Dirty Dan McCain decided to stick his ugly mug where it didn’t belong, and he cost me that title.”

“I’ll be honest; that didn’t sit right with me. If there’s one thing I don’t like, it’s being cheated out of something. I also don’t take too kindly to cowards, which is what Jack Bentley Porter is. The thing is, though, I wasn’t the only one that was cheated. You see, old Jack had struck up a deal with Dirty Dan, but little did Dan know that Jack had no intentions of honoring that deal.”

“Shoot, old Dirty Dan, you are as dumb as you are ugly. I could’ve told you not to trust that good-for-nothing Jack Bentley Porter.”

Rip finishes sharpening his ax and runs a finger along the blade again. This time he looks satisfied with it.

“Jack, I bet you thought that when LCW went out of business, you were in the clear. You were thanking your lucky stars, but you thought wrong. There’s nowhere for you to run, and there’s nowhere for you to hide. I bet you’re probably shaking in those little loafers you wear because you know you have no chance of walking out with that title of yours, let alone walking out alive!”

“There ain’t no more tricks you can pull and no more rules to bend because there ain’t no rules in a Bunkhouse Brawl.”

Rip holds the ax in a throwing position and launches it across into a target. On the target was a conveniently placed photo of Jack Bentley Porter.

“You ain’t never looked better there, Jack!”

He retrieves the ax and looks at the photo, and laughs.

“Now, as for you, Dirty Dan. I know you want to take Jack’s head off just as much as I do, but I also know you want that title. The thing is, though, I want it more. I had Jack right where I wanted him, and you screwed me. You probably think that since we share a common enemy in Jack, we can work together, but that’s where you’re wrong, Dan. You screwed me out of that title, and when you did that, you made it personal. You could have minded your own business, but you had to take that offer and look where that got you, nowhere.”

“Dirty Dan and Jack, you two got karma coming back to bite you, and that karma heading your way is Rip Walker. I will take pleasure in kicking the crap out of both of you and walking out of that Bunkhouse Brawl as the new LCW Tri-State Regional champion.”

Rip gives a wink and smiles at the camera as the scene fades out.​

 

[Jimmy King]

The scene begins outside of a training facility in Austin, Texas, and Ryan Wayne, a representative of LCW, has been sent on assignment to interview a member of the infamous House of Handsome. Wayne stands outside the facility door and gives it a light knock. After a few seconds, the door swings open, and Jesse James Walker, better known as JJ Walker, stands in the doorway.

"Can I help you?"

"Um, Jesse James Walker, I presume?"

”It’s JJ Walker; now, who are you?” JJ answers the question with a bit of an attitude as if his full name being said struck a nerve.

"I'm Ryan Wayne, here on behalf of LCW to see if I can get a word from The House of Handsome."

JJ scans the interviewer with almost a scowl-like expression. He looks back inside the facility and nods before turning back to the interviewer and shuts the door behind him.

"What do you want?" JJ asks coldly, and Ryan Wayne looks intimidated, but he does his best to shake it off.

"I would like to get some thoughts regarding your upcoming Cage Wars match at High Noon, where you, Ace Manson, and Unstoppable Tai will represent The House of Handsome and face off against a team thrown together by Tommy Bedlam."

”Thoughts? Do you want my thoughts on this match? Why would I tell you that? That's the House of Handsome business."

Ryan Wayne seems taken aback by this and doesn't know what to say. Walker looks at him and shakes his head in annoyance.

"Fine, but we stay out here. No prying eyes inside of this facility, and if I don't like a question, I will decline to answer."

Wayne nods and carries on with the interview.

"Well, I just want to know how you and your partners feel heading into a barbaric match like Cage Wars?"

"You want to know how I'm feeling about that? I feel proud. I'm proud to stand here before you and represent The House of Handsome and its founder, The Handsome Stranger. Before I found Mr. Manson and The House of Handsome, I was lost. I felt unwanted by my family. All my parents cared about was my lousy brother and what he was doing. They didn't care about me and what I did."

"Mr. Manson made me feel wanted. He made me feel like I found my real family in The House of Handsome. He took me under his wing and guided me. He trained me and showed me the ways of the house. He accepted me for who I am and treated me with dignity and respect so for that I will be forever grateful to him and the house. It will be an honor to stand alongside Ace Manson and Tai as we defend the honor of the house, and after we wipe the floor with Tommy Bedlam's team, we will ensure that The Handsome Stranger walks out of High Noon as the World Champion."

"You mentioned the team that you'll be facing that was hand-picked by Tommy Bedlam, and they will represent LCW. The team is Mejor Amigo, Wes Tern, and Rosie Sparks."

JJ can't help but give a light chuckle at the mention of those names.

"I take it you're not intimidated by this team?"

"That's the best that Tommy Bedlam could scrounge up, huh? Talk about scraping the bottom of the barrel. This will be a walk in the park for the house."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that; I've heard rumors that Mejor Amigo may be someone from the FWA in disguise, and he has quite the list of accomplishments."

JJ scowls at Ryan Wayne and cowers in fear as Walker gets close.

"Do you think I care? It doesn't matter to me who he is or what he is. All I know is that he's making a big mistake doing the dirty work for someone like Tommy Bedlam. If he's someone sent here from the FWA, he won't be returning there the same person he once was."

"The same goes for Wes Tern and Rosie Sparks. Wes Tern? Is that supposed to be funny? Some kind of play on words, huh? Do you see me laughing? No, because it isn't funny. This guy thinks this is a joke by having a name like that, but the truth is that he's a joke. He doesn't belong in a wrestling ring. He has no idea what he's gotten into, and he will regret the day he agreed to help out Tommy Bedlam."

"Then there's Rosie Sparks, a little girl that thinks this is something like make-believe. This isn't make-believe, though. This is real, and she'll find out the hard way. She's in way over her head, same for Wes Tern and Mejor Amigo. They're all in way over their heads, and they're fools if they think they can walk out of Cage Wars with the victory."

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to question you; I was just trying to do my job."

”Do you have any other questions?”

"Um, your brother will also be competing at this event-"

JJ puts his hand up to stop the interviewer, and Wayne understands and drops it. He leans in close again, and Wayne is still cowering in fear.

"Word of advice; don't bet against The House because The House always wins."

JJ backs away, opens the door, re-enters the facility, and slams the door behind him. Ryan Wayne looks at the cameraman and gives him a signal to cut the feed.​

 

[AON]

WOOP WOOP FOUR DAY ALARM, BOOP BOOP

 

[Tommy Bedlam]

Picture it. Sweetwater, Texas, 2055.​

Tommy Bedlam, now well into his 60s, sits down in his favorite rocking chair, his knees crackling as he lowers his large frame into the trusty seat on his front porch. Randi, having barely aged over the last 32 years, sits beside him with a glass of cold lemonade in her hand. The two of them hold hands, slowly sipping as they look down the long driveway that connects their home to the county road.

“Do you think he’s ready for this?”

“Eh, he’s as ready as anybody’s ever been for something like this. Hell, if he’s not ready by now, we’re in some trouble. Show starts in what, eight, nine hours?”

“More like six.”

“Well, he has a solid eight hours until he has go to on. He’ll main event just like we’ve always done on these shows.”

“Must be nice to be the booker, huh?”

“It has its perks, I guess.”

Their conversation is interrupted by a large silver pickup truck barreling up the driveway. The driver, who we still haven’t seen, barely has time to put the truck in park before the two kids in the backseat come barreling out, squealing and laughing.

“There’s Mimi’s babies!”

Randi jumps from her rocking chair and holds her arms out as the two children come running towards her. The driver emerges from the front seat of the truck, slowly, and deliberately making his way across the yard.

His broad shoulders remind Tommy of what he looked like back in the 2020s. Walker, now 32 years old, slowly makes his way up the front porch steps. The tight black t-shirt that stretches across his well-defined chest is another memory of a time that Tommy has almost forgotten. He used to look like that.

Not anymore. No, he’s just as tall, but the muscle definition has been replaced by the signs of age. The dark hair that used to flow down his shoulders from under his cowboy hat? That’s mostly gone, now. It’s still there on top, but Tommy decided a few years back that being an old man with a ponytail just wasn’t what he wanted. He still has a long, voluptuous beard, but there’s much more salt than there is pepper in it.

“You ready for tonight?”

“Hell, if I’m not ready by now, we’ve probably got some problems, don’t we?”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say. But listen, you’ve gotta understand how big this thing is. This isn’t just another match. This is a blood feud. This is the kind of thing that legacies are built on.”

“Dad, I know.”

“Walker, I’m not sure you do. There’s a lot riding on tonight.”

“You don’t think I know that? You don’t think that I’m fully aware of the fact that this family has been dealing with the House of Handsome since before you were born?”

“I know you’ve heard the stories, but tonight is different. Tonight, is the first time that it’s more than a story to you. Tonight, this feud becomes a part of who you are just like it did me 32 years ago.”

Randi comes back to the front porch, a grandchild on each side of her. They’re both carrying a chocolate chip cookie that’s entirely too large with a massive cup of lemonade.

“Damn, Mom. You trying to get them on a sugar high or something?”

“Oh, sugar isn’t gonna hurt them. Besides, Mimi doesn’t get to see them as much as she’d like to.”

Walker wasn’t exactly off to a great start in his personal life. He had met a woman in his early 20s, ran off to Las Vegas, and had a midnight wedding with her, officiated by an Elvis impersonator. The twins, Colt and Macy were only three when Walker and their mother made the decision to split. They had agreed on 50/50 custody, but Walker didn’t seem as interested in living up to his end of the deal as Tommy and Randi would’ve liked.

The little boy runs towards Tommy and jumped on his lap, spilling some lemonade on both of them. Tommy doesn’t even notice.

“Daddy said you’d tell us a story about a wrestling match if we were good on the way here. We were good.”

“Oh, so Daddy’s bargaining with Pop-Pop’s stories? Well, I can’t let you two down. So, do you wanna hear about the time that I beat Shawn Summers for the TV Title at Back in Business, or do you wanna hear about a match I had with your dad’s opponent’s dad a few months before he was born?”

“Make it about The Handsome Stranger! We’ve heard about you beating Shawn Summers before.” Macy isn’t nearly as impressed with Tommy’s TV Title win as he would’ve liked. Oh well.

“Alright then. A few months before your dad was born, Pop-Pop bought Longhorn Championship Wrestling. We didn’t have a lot of money, but I put together a show with some of the guys who worked backstage at FWA with me.”

“You mean Rocco?”

“Yea, Rocco was there, Colt.”

“You still miss him?”

“Every damn day, son. Every damn day.”

Tommy wipes a tear from his eye as Randi pats him on the arm. Rocco passed in 2031, and Tommy still gets choked up when he thinks about him.

​

“Picture it. High Noon. 2023.”

“Years before your daddy was born, hell, years before your Pop-Pop really got into wrestling, The Handsome Stranger, Steve Manson was being trained to be the new face of LCW. Your great-great-grandaddy, Blackjack Bedlam, he trained Steve. He saw something in him, and decided that he could turn him into a really good wrestler.”

“But Steve turned out to be an asshole?”

“COLT!”

Tommy can’t stifle his laughter as he shoots Randi a look for calling down his grandson for being so right.

“Yes, son. Steve Turned out to be an asshole. Anyway, when I bought LCW, I already had the championship. But The Handsome Stranger, he wanted it back. He had won it, hell, eight maybe nine times over the years, and he thought that he should be the champion when we restarted the company. After the way that he had treated your great-great-grandaddy and your great-grandaddy, I couldn’t let that happen. So me and Rocco decided that we’d book the match. Me against The Handsome Stranger for the main event in the first High Noon show back in 2023. Your Mimi, she musta been what baby, six months pregnant by then? Maybe seven?”

“Something like that.”

“So your daddy was there in Mimi’s belly, and I went out there for the match. I couldn’t even let her be at ringside cause that rat bastard would’ve probably tried to do something to her.”

“So it was just you and him?”

“Well, not quite. It was supposed to be, but The House of Handsome kept trying to jump me. Every time I’d start to get the jump on that ol prick, another member of the House of Handsome would come running out. The ref got knocked down, he missed it, and I had to fight them little bastards off like a horse swatting flies of its ass all night.”

“But you won?”

“Yes, I won Colt. Just as the ref came to, I kicked The Handsome Stranger in the gut, hooked his head under my arm, and dropped him straight on his skull. I rolled over onto him and the ref counted….”

“1…2….3” Both the children finish the story, yelling and cheering at the retelling.

For a moment, Tommy feels like a young man again. As he tells the story of the first High Noon and his victory over The Handsome Stranger, he almost believes that he could get back in the ring and put on a show. Randi knows what’s going on in his head.

“Baby, don’t. You know you’re wrestling days are behind. Besides, I give you all the physical activity you need.”

“Well, that’s enough to make me puke. Kids, get in the truck. Dad, I’ll see you at the show tonight.” Walker chuckles as he walks across the yard.

“Walker, one more thing before you go.”

Walker moves back towards Tommy who reaches into his pocket.

“You ought to take these with you.”

Tommy puts a pair of brass knuckles in Walker’s hand.”

“Dad, what is this?!”

“Listen, boy. The House of Handsome ain’t no joke. You’re the fourth generation of Bedlam to go against them sumbitches, and judging by how much Colt likes wrestling, I doubt you’ll be the last. Not a lot of people know it, but I had a little help putting Steve down back in 2023. Remember, I kicked him in the gut when the ref came to. Before the gut kick, I had a little help. Desperate times, desperate measures."

The two of them laugh as Walker slides the brass knuckles into his pocket. Longhorn Championship Wrestling is gonna be just fine, just like it was in 2023.

​

 

[Dubb]

“Daddy, who are those mean men?”

Six-year-old Jack Bentley Porter III approached his father, Jack Bentley Porter Jr, or as he is more often known to those in his family, on the ranch, and in the office as J.B.

J.B. leaned back in his leather office chair, his feet propped up as he puffed on his cigar watching the advertisement for the upcoming Longhorn Championship Wrestling event. Wrestling was more of a side hustle for J.B., but it was still a passion of his. As someone who never gave anything less than 120% in his life, he wouldn’t be in wrestling if he wasn’t giving it his all. Even if it wasn’t his full-time job.

After all, his full-time job took up enough of his time as VP of Porter Oil. But being a man of power as he was, he often found ways and found people who were willing to take care of things for him. It certainly made his “full-time job” much easier.

Some may think that J.B. was handed everything on a silver spoon. After all, his daddy, Jack Bentley Porter Sr. is the CEO. But J.B. was never the golden child. No, that was Robby. But that’s another story. But the point is, J.B. worked hard to get to where he is. Sure he may have found ways to cut corners along the way and use some of that family money to get his way as well. But he applied those same concepts in wrestling. He doesn’t do anything without being successful.

And that’s why he found himself once again as a champion in LCW. He glanced over to the Tristate Regional Championship on his desk.

So if he’s so good, you may be asking yourself. Why is little Jack so worried?

“Aw Jacky boy,” J.B. said as he put his feet down off the desk and spun around in the chair, his son rushing over and leaping up in his daddy’s lap. “You don’t worry about your old man, you hear me? I ain’t worried, so you shouldn’t be either.”

Jack had paused the television on shots of both of J.B.’s opponents - Rip Walker and Dan McCain. “But Daddy, they’re so scary!”

“C’mon Jacky, you know your daddy ain’t scared of nothin’. Right?”

Jack nodded his head in affirmation.

“Let me tell ya something, Jack. Something I wish someone woulda told me when I was your age. There’s gonna be people in your life who are bigger than you. There’s gonna be people in your life that’s stronger than you. That’s just a fact of life. But guess what, Jack, you’re daddy didn’t get to where I am in life by being big and strong, now did I? I did it by being the smartest person in the room at all times. That’s what you need. Rip Walker, he’s a big dude, that’s for sure. I’m sure lots of people would be scared of him. Hell, I know plenty of people who are scared of him. His family’s ranch is a big rival of Northspoon, after all. But guess what? I’m not. Why? Because I know that I’m smarter than him. The proof is in the puddin’! I’ve literally been outsmarting this guy for the last year! And guess what, I still have this belt, don’t I, Jacky? I don’t care how big he is because there’s always a way to outsmart someone like Rip. All you gotta do is find a way.”

“Like what you did with Mr. McCain?”

J.B. smirked. His son was referring to the fact that he had paid off Dan McCain to help him defeat Rip in his most recent title defense and the most recent example of him outsmarting Rip Walker. Dan was under the assumption that this was gonna get him a shot at the title… but once again, J.B. was too smart. “Now you’re gettin’ it, boy! People like Dan McCain, they’re the kinda people who one day you’ll be able to use. You’ll learn, Jacky, that people will do anything for the almighty dollar. People can be bought. People like Dan McCain are weak like that. You promise them whatever they want and by God, I’ll be damned if they don’t actually just go out and do it. All because of some words you said. And here’s another lesson for you son. Get EVERYTHING in writing. And always read the fine print as well. Because that was the mistake Dan made.”

“I thought you weren’t gonna have to fight him though? How come he’s still in the match?”

“Heh,” J.B. scoffed. His son was right. Jack Jr. definitely had no interest in giving Dan McCain the title shot. Unfortunately, the boss man Rosco Sullivan had other ideas. “Well, sometimes Big Brother will be out to get ya.”

“But I don’t have a brother, Daddy. Not yet anyway. Maybe one day?”

J.B. shook his head, looking into the kitchen where his wife, Jack’s mother, Ellie, was fixing up some lunch. Her beauty hadn’t faded over the years but he knew she had no interest in making any more babies with him anymore. “Maybe one day. But this Big Brother is more like… a boss.”

“I thought you were the boss, Daddy.”

“Sure. You know I am, buddy. But unfortunately, everyone reports to somebody. Even at Porter Oil, I gotta answer to Big Jack. And in LCW, my Big Jack is Rosco Sullivan. In the end, he calls the shots… for now. So yeah, I gotta go in there and defend my belt against two undeserving folks. One guy I’ve already beaten multiple times and another who is only gettin’ it because the boss took pity on him for being too dumb to get an offer in writing. But your daddy always finds a way to win. Don’t you forget that, okay?”

Little Jack nodded his head and hugged his daddy tightly. “Can’t wait to see you kick their asses!”

J.B. chuckled, rubbing his son’s hair playfully. “Now you run along. Daddy’s got some work to do.”

Little Jack nods and ran back out of his father’s office, heading down the long hallway, zipping past his mother as she walked into the office. “He really don’t need to be hearin’ all about that shit, you know?”

J.B. ignored his wife as he pulled out a folder, going through a stack of contracts.

“Dammit Jack, I’m talking to you.”

“Oh, I heard ya. I just don’t know what you want from me. The boy looks up to me and rightfully so. Every boy should view his daddy as a hero. I looked up to mine. The difference is, my dad didn’t give two shits about what I thought. So if he boy wants to see his dad beat up a couple of Neanderthals, then my boy is gonna get to do just that.”

“I just don’t like it,” Ellie sighed as she sat on the corner of J.B.’s desk. “I just know that match is gonna be so violent.”

J.B. shrugged and responded coldly, “I’ll be fine.”

“The last thing I want is for him to see his father on the TV screen in a pool of his own blood. He can look up to you all he wants… believe it or not, I’m glad you two have a good relationship. But no child should see their parent getting brutalized.”

“Luckily, it ain’t gonna happen that way. And besides, the world is cruel and ugly. He has to learn that eventually and the sooner the better I think. One day… one day this is all gonna be his. Porter Oil… wrestling championships… his legacy is mine.”

Ellie lowered her head. That’s exactly what she was afraid of.

“Now, can I get some work done, or are ya’ll gonna keep distracting me?”

She sighed again. “Fine. I’ll leave you to your precious work.”

“Thank you!” J.B. scowled as she left the office in frustration.

Left alone in his office, Jack Bentley Porter Jr. pushed aside his paperwork to look back up at his television screen. At High Noon, he had a big target on his back. But he wasn’t worried. He was confident in his ability to come out on top. Because he always came out on top. All it takes is not being afraid to get your hands dirty.

And J.B.’s hands were always dirty.​

 

[Dubb]

A gust of wind kicked up the sand as a single tumbleweed rolled from one side of the deserted road to the other.

The town seemed abandoned. A ghost town, some might refer to it if they saw its current condition. But it couldn’t be further from the truth. The truth of the current situation of the town was that the people were living in fear.

The outlaws known as the House of Handsome had been terrorizing the small town for the past year. Wanted signs were posted all over towns displaying the mean mugs of JJ Walker, Ace Manson, and The Unstoppable Tai.

Sheriff Tommy Bedlam had tried his best to get rid of the evildoers, but the group was just too nasty, too vile, too underhanded, and too nefarious for one man. Unfortunately, all his deputies proved to be too docile to want to actually take part in any combat, so they had joined the rest of the town in hiding inside their homes.

And so the Sheriff sent out a call to action. For sure somewhere… someone… would be willing to step up and fight for what’s right.

Who out there was willing to be a hero?

Mejor Amigo fancied himself a hero.

Now granted he was never one for much heroic acts. In fact, he typically would like to consider himself more of a friend than a fighter, but something about Tommy’s plea and the notion of these bullies was enough to get Amigo to come to the sheriff’s aid.

Or at least it brought him to Town Hall where the signup form was.

He could feel himself getting cold feet now that he was there. The form… was… not surprisingly very bare. Few people were willing to put their own necks on the line to go up against these brutes. As he stood alone in the empty building, he began to question his life choices. He could’ve stayed in his much more pleasant town. One that didn’t have a bunch of cowboy outlaws running around causing such chaos. His hometown was much friendlier.

He noticed that there was one name already on the form. Rosie Sparks. Mejor sighed. Of all the people who had seen Sheriff Tommy’s call to action, just one measly person was willing.

BUT - Mejor realized if this… Rosie… could show that type of bravery. Then maybe… just maybe… he could too!

But then again… he did enjoy living. Maybe this was a mistake.

“Um, hello?”

The doors to Town Hall creaked as another pair of cowboy boots entered the building. The masked Amigo turned to see the other man who had joined him in the dusty old building. Amigo eyed him up and down. The fella wasn’t much to look at. His boots looked a size too big and his cowboy vest and hat were perhaps a size too small.

“Hola, amigo,” Mejor nodded, tipping his cowboy hat toward the young man.

“Uh, yes… hi, or, uhh, err… howdy, I should say,” the man stumbled.

“Not from around here, are ya, city slicker?”

“City slicker? What do you mean? Can’t you tell I’m a cowboy!”

“Sure,” Mejor offered a friendly nod. “I mean, sure you are dressed like one but I’m not sure I completely buy that this ain’t the first time you’ve ever worn any of it.”

“Is it that obvious?” he questioned, with a disappointed sigh. Mejor Amigo walked over and offered a consolatory arm on the shoulder.

“No worries, amigo, we all start somewhere. What’s your name, city slicker?”

“It’s Wes. Wes Tern. And you are?”

“Nice to meet ya, Wes. The name is Mejor Amigo, Amigo.”

“Your name is Mejor Amigo Amigo?”

“No, no, I’m calling you my amigo! My name is just Mejor Amigo.”

“Oh, got it, your name is just Mejor.”

“No, no, no. Mejor Amigo. That’s my name.”

“Ok,” Wes nodded, still not completely sure he understood what was going on. “Got it.. I’ll just call you Amigo, is that ok?”

“Everyone else does,” Mejor said, smiling under his mask. “Now what brings you out this way?”

“I saw the call to action from the Sheriff. I am here to help! Where do I sign up!”

Amigo eyed Wes up and down once again. This guy clearly had zero experience but he is yet here he was. And showing no sign of fear. He was either really brave or really dumb, Amigo though. But Amigo would never say such a hurtful thing to anyone, much less a new friend. “Well, boy howdy! You know it’s super dangerous right? Like… you could get seriously hurt.”

“I know,” Wes nodded, “but this is the moment I’ve been waiting for my whole life. I’ve spent my whole life living in the city but I’ve never felt like I belonged. I’ve always wanted to go out West. I’ve wanted to ride a horse. I’ve wanted to have the cowboy hat and boots. I’ve wanted… to be a cowboy. So when I saw Sheriff Tommy needed help… I thought… well dang’um it, Wes… this is it!”

“Oh wow…” Amigo said, impressed with the gumption of this one. “I gotta say, that’s awful brave of you. Especially since you probably haven’t seen what we’re up against.” Amigo pointed to the wall of the building, giving Wes his first look at the trio from the House of Handsome.

Wes audibly gulped. “Wow… they… are much… bigger… and meaner… than I imagined. I just heard the name and thought some guys calling themselves Handsome couldn’t be that bad, right.” He continued to look at them alongside Amigo, tapping his chin with his right index finger. “Well, no turning back now, I guess.”

Mejor Amigo’s jaw dropped as he wasted no time walking across the room and signing the line right underneath Rosie Sparks. “Oh goodie, looks like we have a team. Wait,” Wes paused, realizing the other name on the sheet wasn’t Amigo’s. “You haven’t signed up yet?”

Amigo shook his head, “I was about to. But then you walked in. Distracted me.”

“Ahh, well, here ya go!” Wes said, offering the pencil to Amigo. Amigo slowly walked over and took the pencil from Wes.

“Right…” Amigo began to bring the pencil down to the paper. His hand began to shake the closer to the paper he got. How Rosie and Wes be so brave and willing to stand up and fight while Amigo was so reluctant?

Much like Wes, Amigo had dreamed of this moment. His moment to mask up and become the hero. He could just see the people of his home village lifting him up onto their shoulders and celebrating him for conquering the House of Handsome once and for all.

But those visions are fleeting and quickly replaced by visions of those same people crying over his recently filled grave.

“What’s wrong?” Wes questioned, noticing Amigo’s hesitancy.

“I just worry… about what could happen. These guys are big and scary… and we’re not exactly a team that strikes fear into anyone’s heart.”

“Is that why you wear a mask?

“What do you mean?”

“To hide your fear?”

Amigo scoffed and was deeply offended. “Of course not! It’s part of my heritage. And besides, sometimes heroes wear masks.”

“I see,” Wes nodded. “Well, at a moment like this, I’m reminded of something I’ve always said. Amigo, there’s two types of folk. Those who ain’t and those who are knee-high on a grasshopper. Which type aint’ you ain’t?”

Amigo scratched his head, having no idea what Wes was trying to say. “I’m just sayin’... this is our chance. We can either be heroes or we can go back to where we came from. Continue being nobodies. Live our entire lives thinking… what if. Or we can stop living in fear. We can embrace our dreams. We can be heroes. Together. Whaddaya say… amigo?”

Mejor found himself getting enthralled by the inspiring words of the young man. He was right… this was the place. This was the time. It was now or never. Someone needed to stand up to the House of Handsome. Why not them?

“Let’s do this!” Amigo said as he finally brought the pencil down and wrote out his name.

Together with Rosie Sparks… they had a huge task before them. But Sheriff Tommy had put his trust in them. Mainly because they had been the only three either too brave or too dumb to sign up… but the time was coming.

And that time… was High Noon.​

 

[Jazz Wolf]

“Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for ‘Your Honorable’ Judge Victor Hearstly.”

The unenthusiastic voice of LCW’s residential ring announcer, Jewels Duvall, echoed throughout the courtroom, and there was a smattering of feet shuffling as the crowd dutifully, if begrudgingly, rose. It wasn’t quite a courtroom, of course. Logistically speaking it had more in common with a slaughterhouse than a room of law & order. A row of pews, crammed awkwardly into an auditorium that wasn’t quite designed for more than a couple of dozen visitors, at most, crammed full with a gaggle of reporters, busybodies, officials, and a handful of guests, only the slightest fraction of whom might’ve wanted to be there. A bronze throne sat behind a desk draped with the familiar red, white, and blue of the Texas flag, currently empty, reserved for one man only. There was no section for a jury, for in Judge Hearstly’s courtroom, there was no need for one. He, and he alone, was court.

It wasn’t until the last man got to his feet, grumbling beneath his breath, that the eponymous Judge himself appeared, striding through one of the side doors that constituted his courtroom. Collectively, the room let out a sigh. Clad in an off-color white suit, a pair of thin rimmed glasses perched on the edge of his nose, and swinging his gavel with impunity, Victor Hearstly cut an imposing figure, kind of. A bit pudgy around the middle, and probably other areas too, Hearstly carried himself as someone with a great deal of power, or at least gave the impression that he did. A power that might not have been restricted to purely physical power, granted, might be the only real power he had - but even then, it was still power he commanded, one way or another.

“How on earth does he keep coming back?” One of the reporters - you could tell he was a reporter, due to the ‘PRESS’ note tucked into the brim of his fedora - whispered to his colleague. “I thought he got the boot. Again.”

His colleague scoffed. “You can thank the Deputy for this one.” He replied, scornfully.

“Settle, now I say settle, in my court.” Judge Hearstly decreed, banging his gavel on the table. His shrill, indignant voice echoed through the courtroom, as sat himself down on the bronze throne, beady eyes gazing out at the enrapt audience. Bulging, piggish fingers squirmed together as he licked a pair of sunken lips, off-yellow teeth glistening with miscare. A bead of sweat trickled down his neck, which he lightly dabbed away with a rag, before clearing his throat. “I will have order in my court, and if I cannot have it by will, I will have it by force. Now, do I make myself clear?” He leaned forward, eyes daring someone to speak up.

Silence answered him.

“That’s better.” A smile spread across his face, the kind of smile you would find on a ‘WANTED’ poster. “Now then - The court calls into session the case of Hearstly v Rogers. Davey Boy Rogers stands accused of impersonating an officer of the law, and using his ill-begotten non-existent power to sway the fine folk of this equally fine backwater townshed into supporting his villainous deeds of mayhem. Being a nuisance to the fine, fine folk of the Handsome Clan and inciting numerous riotous actions against their good, good name. And for what, I ask of you? For what?”

There’s an awkward silence. One person starts to speak up, before Hearstly continues his monologue.

“I’ll tell you why!” He screeched, the same way a bird would screech after it found itself caught in a jet turbine. “Because Davey Boy Rogers is a hoodlum and a scoundrel in the highest sense of the word! Cavorting about in this naive, wide-eyed persona, whilst puppeting the strings to his ideal world, his actions betraying his meaning - Rogers cares not for goodwill, for peace, for tranquility such as myself. Rogers cares only for Rogers, and these stunts to endear himself to the unwashed masses are merely those - stunts by a raptured mind of a buffoon in dire need of a penitentiary stay.” Hearstly scoffed, leaning back flippantly in his throne. “Now, I understand I myself may not be the most popular person in this here town-”

“I’ll say.” The reporter from earlier mumbled.

“WHO SAID THAT?!?” Hearstly pushed himself to his feet, gesturing his gavel in the direction of the voice. “I will hold you in contempt of court! I’ll see that you’ll be stuck doing fluff pieces for the rest of your reporting career, you understand me?!?”

Silence once again. Victor Hearstly tugged on the lapels of his jacket, before sitting back down on his throne. “That’s what I thought. As I was saying, I’m aware that among the more visceral members of the district, I might not be the name they invite to a barbeque. BUT, I am the law and order necessary for this community to grow. I am the necessity they need to ensure they get to live their lives free of such miscreants such as Davey Rogers, polluting the childfolk with ill-begotten ideas and wishes. I am the sole factor between a thriving community and a desert full of bones, surely you understand.”

There was no question in his voice, no imploring of the listeners to consider his point. It was a simple statement presented as an inarguable fact, leaving no opening for debate. “Now, Rogers would have you believe in his oh-so-fanciful suggestions of a world without the likes of myself at the helm - but that is just a lawless, chaotic land, where the rights of the people are reverted to zero simply so a child can ride around on a wagon, playing sheriff. But what, I ask of you, but what happens when night falls? I’ll tell you what happens - that child goes home, tucks himself into bed, cuddles his Giddyup Buttercup dolly, and dreams away. What of the dangers of the world that he has let run wild with his demands for choice and freedom? That is of no matter to him and never has been. No, he’ll be leaving you to defend yourself, ill-equipped against the raging beasts of the night. The likes of Thomas Bedlam, and his familial gang of rustlers and heathens. Or Rip Walker, who turned his back on his own flesh and blood out of egotism and want. Or a basket case such as Linus Badger, and his villainous puppeteer who would have you believe such a twisted mind is simply in need of positive reinforcement. Pah! Pah, I say!”

He did, indeed, say. Several times, in fact, before continuing. “Davey Boy Rogers is no lawman. Davey Boy Rogers is no Deputy. Davey Boy Rogers has no training or understanding of the law. Davey Boy Rogers is but a being of impulse and need, with no understanding of wit, manners, or social standards. Need I remind you that impersonating an officer is a recognized as a felony in most civilized area. Now, we could consider the suggestion that Rogers means no harm, that he is - as his middle name would suggest - a boy, a mere child in a world of adults, getting up to harmless antics for fun and humor. But my papa, god rest his soul, told me ‘never attribute to stupidity that you could to malice.’ And when I gaze into Roger’s mirthless eyes, I see naught but a villain, masquerading as an innocent, spitting on the law that I have put my entire being into upholding. I see an insult, and it sickens me.”

With a grunt, Hearstly leaned forward, close enough that saliva began to drip onto the microphone. “Davey Boy Rogers, I find you guilty of impersonating an officer. I find you guilty of attempting to incite riots and commotions for your own gain. I find you guilty of spreading lies, slander, and filth under the guise of ‘the truth.’ Above all, I find you to be a revolting, nauseating, and loathsome individual, with no thoughts or consideration for the consequences of your own actions, and that is truly despicable. Davey Boy Rogers, it is the duty of the Judge to decide a punishment. It is the duty of the Jury to decide a verdict. And it is the duty of the Executioner to ensure the punishment pertaining to the verdict is carried out. I am the Judge of LCW, and in this courtroom, much like in the ring, I am the Judge, Jury, & Executioner of your fate. I sentence you to a beating by my own two hands, and the beating will not stop until I believe you have learned your lesson. You will serve your sentence out as long as it takes, until I am satisfied that you have learned your place in the world and adjusted yourself accordingly.”

With a final grunt, Judge Victor Hearstly banged his gavel on the desk, once, twice, three times before rising to his feet. “And with that, this court is now dismissed."

​

 

[SupineSnake]

TEX & JANE
in
”TEX & JANE.”

*****

“Oh, bandit queen, steal away to me…”

With Joe gently tinkling the ivories behind her and a few additional lalalas to get her point across, Jane’s solo came to a close. A handful of the nightclub’s punters gave her a haphazard round of applause, but for the most part they continued with whatever they were doing. As Jane’s somewhat somber and solemn tune concluded the DJ took to his decks again to play something a little more upbeat. The revelers appreciated it. They flocked back to the dancefloor, which had momentarily been left empty and abandoned during Jane’s performance, moving in time to the rhythm to whatever modern, populist nonsense was currently blaring over the speakers.

Jane stood on the stage and sighed. The inside of the club had been decorated to look something like a country and western salloon, but the hotspotch amalgamtion of kitsch heirlooms from the wild, wild west gave the effect of a tourist trap over tradition. The song playing now definitely wasn’t country. It was work, but right now - looking out over a sea of people here inspite of the establishment’s theme rather than because of it - she didn’t think that this was quite enough.

“Careful with your step, little lady,” Tex said, in the opposite corner of the club, as he helped another young-women over the lip of the inflatable crash mat. “Step into the stirrup and… there you go!”

“Thanks, cowboy,” she said, in a thick East Coast accent that he couldn’t place with any more specificity than that. The little lady smiled down at him from the back of the mechanical bull. He tipped his hat and then, careful not to puncture the inflatable surface with the spurs on his boots (again), returned to his station.

“Don’t choke up on the rope so much,” he said to her. “You’ll break your wrist, little lady.”

She followed his instructions dutifully. He had the authority here. He was the one behind the button. They didn’t know who he was. The bulls he’d rode. If they went onto the youtube, these kids would find half a hundred videos of him in one ring, and another half a hundred in another. He was credited in the wrestling videos, but the ones that he was really proud of? The ones where he’d taken the horns and bent a beast’s will? He was anonymous. A nameless rider whose best days - when he’d brushed shoulders with the greats like Bob Cootes, and even traveled south of the border once or twice - were behind him.

At Jack & Sally’s Wild West Saloon & Bar, Tex pressed the big red button on his control panel to start the mechanical bull’s movements. The dial was turned to one, the bull’s gyrations were tepid and unspectacular, the girl wooping and swinging her free arm above her head. Her friends cheered her on from the sidelines. One of them turned to Tex.

“That as fast as it goes?” she asked.

“That’s as slow as it goes,” he said, before turning the dial up to two. Most people fall off at about four. The little lady made it up to five. Tex was sure to congratulate her as he helped her up. She dropped a couple of dollars into his jar.

”Can I wear your hat?” she asked, hopefully/

“I’m sorry, little lady” he said, with his best effort at a kind smile. He worried about appearing lecherous often. “I don’t let anyone wear my hat. Do you want your two dollars back?”

“That’s yours, cowboy,” she said, before she and her friends returned to the dancefloor. Tex turned back to the line of people and the next little lady waiting to ride the mechanical bull.

Forty five minutes later and it was time for a break. Tex went outside the club and into a back-alley between the building and the sausage packaging factory next door. He spat his chewing tobacco out into a nearby drain. He’d been doing it for years and his aim was good. It went straight down the grate. Then he retrieved his black steel cigarette tin from his back pocket. He held the object in his hands, the rough skin on his thumb brushing over the engraved ‘T.H.’ on the case’s lid. It had been a gift from old Gerry Greyson after their run together on the west coast. He heard his son got famous and went nationwide. He’d heard that. Didn’t know if it was true. He was out of the loop.

“You got another of those for me, cowboy?” Jane asked, as she appeared at the end of the alleyway. Tex never got the chance to speak to Calamity Jane much inside the club, but their breaks seemed to match up a lot of the time and he was used to her small-talk. And used to her stealing his cigarettes. He’d long since learned to roll a few more before any shift he was working with her. He took a second out of the tin and offered it to the singer.

“I enjoyed your performance,” Tex replied, whilst lighting the end of her smoke for her. “Nice song. Think I’ve heard it somewhere before.”

“Shame you were the only one,” Jane answered. Thick columns of smoke rose in plumes from the pair, hidden away in their alleyway.

“You on again later?” he asked. There was hope in his voice. Any reprieve from the DJ was appreciated.

“No, I’m just serving drinks,” she said, almost in mourning. “I don’t know if I’m going to be around much longer, Tex. Think the wrestling’s about to take off.”

“The FWA finally came calling?” he asked, with a proud smile. “Knew they would. Was just a matter of time.”

“Not quite, Tex,” she replied. She let out a delicate and infectious laugh, buoyed by the older man’s belief and encouragement. “Slow down. But I’ve been taking more dates for Longhorn. Got a nice little run going.”

“Just a matter of time,” Tex said, nodding his head approvingly.

“You used to work down there, right?” Jane asked.

“In another life,” Tex answered. Truth was he barely remembered Longhorn at all. Dropped on the head a few too many times, maybe.

“Well, another chance in a second life seems to be a recurring theme in modern wrestling,” said Jane. Tex didn’t really follow her meaning. “Sure they’d have you back at Longhorn, if you wanted another shot. Could even team.”

“I’d just hold you back, Jane,” Tex answered. “Would be a calamity.”

“Calamity Jane,” Jane said. “I like that.”

Tex was more than aware that Jane’s persistence wouldn’t let the topic drop any time soon so the best possible action for the old wrestler was to go back in early and help the guys make sure the equipment was in usable condition. Well, Jane would have her own preparations as well, Tex supposed. Or ‘hoped’, that would be a better word for it.

“I’m heading back in,” announced Tex as he tipped his cowboy hat to the woman.

“Alright, Tex,” Jane said without looking back at him. “I’ll follow eventually.”

When she did follow back, it was business as usual. She spared a long glance at Tex, who looked as calm and without purpose ever as another soul found itself on the bull. It was always disheartening to see capable men like that. This world had a lot of parts to offer, everyone could have theirs but this was way below Tex’ station. However, she had her own as well. And she had to continue playing hers. Off she went away from Tex’ area and back to the customers.

It was an honest job, all things considered. Everyone had a story to tell and humans sharpened humans. The handling of patrons who overstepped their boundaries was conducted with speed and conviction that Jane wouldn’t expect from a place in the deep south. Maybe it was her merits as a singer and as a waitress that earned her this special treatment. But this was not a cause for celebration: she hoped for a future where nobody had to sing and dance and serve patrons for their safety to be taken into consideration. Not that she couldn’t defend herself. She was becoming more of a mainstay in LCW, and she knew her way around a fight if there was one to be had.

Speak of the devil…

“‘Filibuster’ Flint is in the mother-fucking house!” A very unfriendly voice boomed through the bar. A big burly buster with a long blade in his hand announced. “Give me all your riches if you don’t want your filis bustered!”

“And he’s not alone!” announced a second voice. “Pinty Picaroon is here to fuck shit up!”

Two bandits were busy intimidating the patrons with their blades, allowing Jane to sneak her way near Tex again.

“We can take them out,” whispered Jane. “You and I. They look like they have no idea what they are doing.”

“Jane…” Tex whispered back. “Don’t do anything stupid. They are armed, we are not. Let the owner call the sheriff and wait this out.”

Just after Tex had said that, Flint whacked someone in the face as the guy tried to get his phone out. That guy just happened to be the owner of the bar.

“Tex!” Jane exclaimed, her voice nearly came out loud enough to be heard as they continued to hide behind the bull. “What happened to your courage? They need to be dealt with as soon as possible or else they will hurt more and more people! I thought Texas was supposed to be a town where people got shit done, a land of brave cowboys and vigilantes where the cops and sheriffs were just fancy titles.”

“Jane, this is serious!” insisted Tex. “This isn’t a game! This isn’t a wrestling match! You can’t just go there and suplex them into submission!”

Jane closed her eyes, took a deep breath.

“Watch me,” she said and went sprinting away from the bull. Tex could not stop her. She was quick on her feet. The big Flint tried to swing his blade into Jane but the agile woman slid underneath his arm before legsweeping the smaller Pinty. She got up, flashed a smile to the patrons before she turned back and tried to do the same to Flint. But his thick legs did not give up. He grabbed Jane by her jacket and pulled it. The jacket came out easily, allowing Jane to escape. She immediately ran to the nearest table, knocked a glass of beer out with her maneuver as she bounced off the table to execute a flying cross-body … but Flint easily caught her. As his blade drew nearer to her neck, Jane shouted:

“Tex, you've got to help!”

The old man let out a lengthy sigh, before standing to his feet… and, as if it were a turnbuckle, began bashing his head off the mechanical bull's saddle. The action seemed to stir something in him, Tex growing more and more animated and agitated, his fist pumping and his head waggling. He started to beat his chest, almost speaking in tongues before turning to face the two bandits, who was frozen in position as Tex carried out his peculiar and beguiling ritual…

Finally, Tex pointed at the attacker with his blade drawn against Jane's throat.

"YOU!"

Incensed, Tex lifted up a nearby billiards cue and, with pinpoint accuracy, flung it at the bandit. The tip drove through the collar of Flint's jacket and then impaled it against the wall behind him, pinning him in position with Jane out of reach. Sensing the upper hand slipping through his grasp, Pinty Picaroon charged at the old-timer… but found himself lifted up and over with a big back body drop, and suddenly hurtling towards the mechanical bull. He came to rest upon one of its horns, hovering above the ground in an unholy taurine wedgie.

"Looks like you've still got a trick or two up your sleeve, after all," Jane said, with a playful smile, as she approached the bull operator.

"I think I need a cigarette," Tex replied. "You going to call the cops?"

"Already on it," she said, whilst collecting her phone. "You should think about Longhorn while you're out there. Maybe there's time for one last tag run, yet…"

Tex said nothing, but took his hat off and placed it atop her head. Something about his noncommittal grunt suggested his mind may have begun to turn.

With the old-timer out in the back-alley, Jane carried the two bandits out of the service entrance by the scruff of the neck. She finally let them go across the road from the club, Flint and Pinty promptly inspecting the damage done to their various garments.

Jane looked at the pair of them and let out a chuckle. Then, she reached into her pocket… and collected a handful of tens. She gave three each to the two men in front of her.

"You not gonna pay for the clothes he ruined?" Flint asked, whilst stuffing his earnings into his back pocket.

"Occupation hazard," Jane answered.

"You think it will work?" Pinty asked.

"Hope so," Jane mused, whilst staring at the moon. "You cheap bastards can be bought, but the guys waiting for us at Longhorn? I'll need to fight them for real. And for that, I'm gonna need Tex."​

 

[Jazz Wolf]

<3 Bullseye <3

18/01/23, 4:23pm​

hey​

hey yourself​

heard the news?​

?​

[HYPERLINK BLOCKED]​

i'm not clicking that

jfc fine i'll send an emoji instead

nvm I don't have an emoji to hint it​

good​

how about a gif​

i will break up with you

just tell me​

LCW's back baby​

oh shit

fr???​

fr fr​

sick

reckon they'll give us a call?​

well yeah

we're like the 3rd best tag team outside of hoh​

third place by default is still third place, send me that bronze medal​

it's weird

I didn't think i'd miss that place as much as I did, home doesn't feel like home

you know what I mean?​

yeah no I getchu

it's like

it's far away enough from our home places that it's, like, where we're free to be ourselves, I think?​

that sounds about right

and i'll be real, i didn't think i'd be welcome in a place like LCW​

same same

hope they give us a call​

they'll always need some patsys to be beaten up by hoh and I can't think of anyone better than us​

can't believe my ceiling in life is being beaten up by hoh on multiple occasions​

it's a living​

02/02/23, 3:01am​

we're out of poptarts​

03/02/23, 2:52am​

we're still out of poptarts​

05/02/23, 2:44pm​

do we need milk​

motherfucker we need poptarts the fuck you getting milk for​

12/03/23, 3:59pm​

saw the judge on tv last night​

judge judy?​

no​

judge fudge?​

LCW's judge​

he's kinda fudgy

he's back in power again?​

yup​

jfc

how​

blame davey boy​

oh i'm going to blame the shit out of davey boy​

can't believe lcw called judge pudge back before us​

give it time​

15/03/23, 12:46am​

we're out of poptarts​

15/03/23, 1:01pm​

oh hey news

news news news​

did someone I hate die​

possibly

did you get a call?​

no​

k​

?​

15/03/23, 1:13pm​

got the call!​

hell yeah

we're back baby​

rip the stable

I hope I get to fight dave​

why​

he knows what he did​

I'll book the flights​

Today, 10:21am​

hey​

hey​

yeehaw?​

yeehaw​

<3

...​