Aberrant – XWF

Aberrant - XWF
  • Aberrant – XWF

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A Sourcebook Detailing the XTREME WARFARE FEDERATION Sam O’Reilly (order #3062869)


need t c roes c. ..lains of rantu 1. Pit your characters aia Ruvana, Christine rtrix” J( y, and ghe othe fa fight circuit. Learn i, the obsessed viewers iinds behind it all. But KWF isnotfc wiml 60

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Blood money They came from all over the Five Boroughs and beyond: Jersey, Connecticut, Penn vania, New England. It would not surprise me if some came from across the continent even across the world. We are LIVE, ladies and gentlemen, from Madison Square Garden, always THE indoo sporting arena in America, now with an exponentially increased seating capacity sinc Enrikssen redesigned the place in ‘05. Lucky for us, for they are, to coin a phrase, hangin from the rafters tonight. 87,996. For what is essentially little more than an exhibition show. The rich, the poo the old and the very young, the highbrows and the lowlifes, white, black, brown – he1 probably green and purple, too. We’ve already got confirmed sightings of DJ Faiz, S Giuliani, and The Great One Himself, Rocky Elizondo,complete with aging divdsugar Madonna in tow. I hear that none other than lt-couple Lydia Divine and Katie Holm watching this show from the Garden’s VIP box. Tonight we are guests, fans, “marks” (the old carny term by which XWFers refer t anyone not in “the business”), hype-drunk thralls in the hands of the Xtreme Warfar Federation’s franchise-masters and willing fodder for their promotionaljuggernaut. Th atmosphere is part carnival, part burlesque, part Roman orgy. Cardboard signs spouting Magic-Markered, often misspelled slogans ranging from the worshipful to the obscene decorate the Garden like a peacock’s plumage. Lines of fans use their bodies as canvases to spell out favored combatants’ noms de goerre; others ape their heroes, dressing in “authentic” ring attire, with results ranging from the “not bad” to the “Jes put your shirt back on NOW!” Knots of hooting men gorge on flaccid na ounce cups of pisswater beer, befouling the air with their expulsions, occas ing out into a Greek chorus of “Show your tits!” as whorishly dressed “ring or (God help them!) ordinary young ladies scurry by. Small children char through the puddles of beer and vomit, some shrieking out various contenders’ copy righted pleasantries like “Step into my jungle, bitch!” or, for the intellectually inclined, “My vocation is your castration!” while ramming their younger siblings’ heads and extremities into nearby guard rails. And everywhere, like kudzu, the shirts: dark green, camouflage patterned, the front with a simple, stylized “biohazard” logo, the back emblazoned with the slogan CoredTM .” Sources say Baron gets a percentage of every shirt sold. t, the fans are in the midst of witnessingthe most controversialathletic contest in history of the planet, a series of matches in which an average jab could kill an African elephant and the competitors unleash more energy, more raw force in seconds than the typical baseline athlete expends in a lifetime. In between, they BUY: banners and shirts and caps and cups, posters and disks and masks and dolls, Frisbees and stickers and jackets, a Mammon’s hoard of made-in-Guatemala markups, all bearing the stylized, spin-doctored and (you’d better believe) trademarked likenesses of the XWF‘s top-dollar ass-kickers. By buying into the XWF attitude, the franchise, the image, you hope to become an avatar of something greater than yourself. Like an ancient Babylonian praying to his Baal, you can use your credit card to worship the XWF “gimmick” without knowing anything of the person behind the slogan. Beyondthis pervasive attitude, the vicarious, atavistic brutality (or vitality?) of an era long lost to data and downsizing and dotcoms, the XWF warriors offer little of substance though in fairness, this could be said of most novas, or most public figures, for that matter. Even the names convey only a masturbatory fascination with larger-than-life, ritualized violence. Raja Ravana. Maxx Mauler. Compton Inferno. Tonight’s card, thus far, has hit on all the requisite cylinders (a pre-HC reference for you kidz out there). Three of these matches were undercard, preliminary matchups, featuring freakishly muscled lumps of (wink, wink, nudge, nudge, mite-riddled) flesh

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of the spidery arena superstructure. Hey, the semi-main featured actual by-God novas: billed as “an epic fight to advance in the Silver Circle contention hierarchy” or something. The marquee says this is Marco “The Brazilian Anaconda” Mateiro against Mariko Yukiko. The “smart” fans say the Silver Circle matchups are often the best, and I think I agree with them. I say “I think” because the Anaconda was throwing about 400 punches a second while twisting his body into some kind of fractal pattern and Yukiko was springing off the superstructure so fast it was like watching one of those balls you buy out of the machine in front of the grocery store. I checked out the slo-mo replays, and there were some definite Golden Gloves-style combos and some serious hang time on Yukiko’s 5490” rib-wrecker, but then, I got to thinking, “If I have to watch the freakin’ screen to see the fight, why did I pay for a ticket instead of watching it for free at the sports bar?” Fortunately for Bartlett, Flair and Co., the other 87,995 marks aren’t as discriminating as I, and so, the cash flow is safer than FireFox’s undies, yes indeed. But now, as they say, it is Time. Next up, the main event, the big-money match, the drawing-power spectacle that (as they say in the biz) “puts asses in seats.” The pyros crash, the rockets shriek, klaxons announcing a sacrifice. “Ladies and gentlemen, this next match is a special challenge match for the XWF Black Circle HeavyweightTitle ….” XWF combatants and fans alike use the term “pop” to describe the audience roar of approval upon the entrance of a particularly beloved ring warrior. The more popular the fighter, the louder the pop. Even in the NovaAge, when miracles and marvels are ours for

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the viewing, there is little in the world more awe-inspiringthan nearly 90,000 fans erupting in a simultaneous pop. “Introducing first … the challenger! He weighs in as heavy as secret sin and hails from [here the announcer’s voice drops into a menacing baritone]The Ninth Circle of Hell! He is the Master of Fire and Brimstone, the Lord of the Damned, the King of Unending Torment! Ladies and gentlemen, introducing… EL! DIABLO!” El Diablo saunters – well, lumbers his way out. He’s, oh, six-seven, built like the proverbial brick shithouse and masked. Even from my vantage point, I see the distinctive stigmata of mite abuse: hose-pipe veins, blotchy skin and nary a bulge in the, umm, package area. The mask, a knock-off of belovedyouth-culture thug Mefistofaleez’ssignature accouterment, fails to hide his Neanderthal brow. If he survives this match, or the next three, he will eventually succumb to the 10-count of his overtaxed heart. The crowd lustily boos; they know this guy’s a scrub who got lucky. Or very, very unlucky, depending on your point of view. I can guess the story. This kid is young, stick-your-hand-on-a-hot-stovefoolish, wants to be a nova so bad it hurts and thinks he’s Rocky Balboa. “Special challenge match,” my ass. Just for those readers unfamiliar with the business practices of the XWF: “El Diablo” doesn’t have a hope in hell. Pitting a mitoid against Core is like pitting a Pokemon against Godzilla. The XWF suits know it’s a house show; they want to send the fans home happy, they “generously” offer this “promising” lunkhead a title shot, Core plays with him, smokes him in 2:37,and the bridge-and-tunneldata-apes haul their broods back to Schenectady, talking about what a great, epic title defense it was. El Diablo capers around the arena, soaking up the boos like a cheap, disposable tampon. His mask twitches; I guess he’s trying to leer menacingly, or maybe he’s having a heart attack already. I think he screams out something like “Core’s goin’ down!” but through the mask, it comes out approximately “Khrehh guhh deuuhhh!” The crowd’s jeers die down, and an expectant, electric silence grips the place. And then, it happens. I am a child of the ‘80s and grew up banging my head – again, don’t ask, kidz -to the Lightning, and so, my aged pulse quickens when the first strains of entrance music skew flavor-of-the-monthRyyptilique’scover of Proklamationn’s remix of dear old two-

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oh retro but still by-God-ass-kicking Metallica classic “Enter Sandman” reverberate throughout the Garden. And at that moment, as the entire gargantuan edifice shakes like a Tinkertoy structure amid a roar like a ground-zero Overkill detonation, I understand the true meaning of the term “pop.” “Ladies and gentlemen, now making his way to the Combat Zone.. . he weighs in at 282 pounds and hails from Brooklyn, New! York! City!” I had forgotten: Baron’s a hometown boy, too. The 87,996 fans vocally remind me of that fact. “…he is the reigning champion of the sport and the master of the Core MeltdownTM. Ladies and gentlemen, your.. .”(Here the crowd, in warbly drunken, adrenalinized “unison,” joins the announcer’s spiel:) .X! W! F! Heavyweight Champion of the Wooooorrrld.. . “DUKE! “CORE! “BAROOOONNN!” That last syllable, chanted by 90,000 voices and echoed, no doubt, by millions upon millions in front of monitors in dens and living rooms and sports bars and less wholesome establishments across the entire by-God world, is an implacable summons, like a god ordering his avenging angel to earth. Fog. Strobes. The bass line. The crowd leans forward. Say your prayers, little one… And there, as phosphorus flames blast in twin columns to the heavens, He emerges, to a pop that I fear will send Manhattan into the sea. Don’t forget, my son.. . Psychologists can analyze this, sociologists can argue it, pundits of all stripes can deride it. Depending on whom you ask, the XWF is a barbaric orgy of violence unworthy of a civilized society, a panderer selling lowest-common-denominatorpap to cretinous, testosterone-addled teens and the emotionally retarded adults they will become, the dry rot on the leprous corpse of a decadent, media-numbed, postindustrial, postmodern, ‘I..

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postcaring, postfeeling, downloaded, wired-for-convenience society so devoid of any real soul that it has to elevate clown-gods to beat the shit out of each other simply to satisfy its StUDOrOUS -. . – – _- concern _ _.__. . . . that .. .-.at lnact cnrnnnnn ,-, c n m a l n r IhGa ImG , ;e 13&ai..uuii iy QI IU L-I:-I ~ ~ ItyI Iaurrieiriing real.live, even if it is rage and fear. To include everyone… All these things are, to some extent, true. It does not matter. To these 87,000-plus,there is one God and His name is Core. They shriek hymns to him. They beseech him to smite the infidel, to let them, for just one night, throw the lightning with him and be as kings. Some, I believe, would die for him.


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c ker-Room Conversation, “You want me to be what?!?“

“Mr. Crenshaw, that is an insensitive, intolerable and, frankly, very two-oh remark on your part. The XWF does not tolerate slurs directed at ethnicity, creed, or sexual orientation, and as a representative of this company, you will damnwell remember that! the fact is, M ~Crenshaw, . are under con-

“Look, the creative staff has put a great deal of effort into grooming you for stardom, and we feel that this alter ego k the Perfect marketing Package O ‘ r the unique talents tract to the XWF, and its creative team has determined that you bring to the organization.” it is in the company’s best interest that you assume the iden“But, 1 mean, this… costume…. It’s … so… weird ….” tity, trademarks and character of The Polyp, complete with “What it is, my dear Mr. Crenshaw, is a one-wayticket tentacle headgear, suckers, catchphrase and, yes, that glowto notoriety. When you don your war mask, your battle per- ing logo on the seat area. sona, you cease to be a mere mortal. In the eyes of the mil‘6Mr,Crenshaw, the bottomline is thatwe can takethat lions… and millions… of XWF fans everywhere, you become 15 pounds of XWF intellectual property that you hold so ginan incarnate deity, an icon of worship.” gerly in your callused, post-lnformation-Age-reject, service“lt” just– polYP7 mean* isn’t that likesomething industry-xarred hands, and we can slap it on any of dozens, that grows on your ass or something?” if not hundreds, of eager, star-struck mitoids. To wit, there “‘pob,’ dear boy, is derived from the French ‘Poube?’ isnothing in the equation of your being that we cannot rewhich translates into the English ‘octopus’ or ‘squid.’ Don’t produce via the fortuitous union of a Lor&s you see the sucker marks molded into the latex? You are… a barista and a syringe in the ass. Now, do you want to be in creature Of the Oceanic a great kraken come the show, or do you want to be back out there, watching the limbs around Your foe and slowlY to Your XWF from the dubious comfort of whatever hovel your minicrush him into defeat!” mum-wage job affords you… at least until you have to hock “Well, does it… 1 mean, it’s fuxhia, forcrissake! People your obsolete mite? of a computer to pay for will think I’m, like, a fag or something-” “Good. 1 thought you’d agree. Break a leg… superstar.”



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Melinda Olson, homemaker: Well, last week, Superbeast came to the local shopping mall for an autograph session, and he stayed until every one of those kids got their toy signed. He was very sweet to my little boy, and he told all the kids that working hard and staying in school are more important than being an XWF superstar.

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Conversation during the filming of a clip from Monday Mega-Massacre, 4/24/08 Production Manager: OK, now, Superbeast, we want you to lurk in that alley over at stage right, and when Core walks* Superbeast: Hey, you checked this shit out, right? Like, no homeless dude’s hanging out in there all drunk and covered in his own shit and* Core: Yeah, ‘cuz you don’t want some bum givin’ you a preliminary ass-whoopin’ before 1 blast you through the roof at the pay-per-view! Superbeast Oooh, you’re so butch and manly, Core! 1 feel so… moist…. Production Manager: Focus, please, gentlemen! Remember: We’re setting up the grudge match of the millennium here, and we need this clip to convey hate, vengeance and primal rage! Okay, now, Core, you walk stage left in front of the alley, and then, at that point, you, Superbeast, pounce on him and smack him with the dumpster…. Superbeast: Which one? There are a bunch of dumpsters in here…. Production Manager. The one with the red tape on it…. Superbeast Gary, how many times do 1 have to tell you, I’m colorblind while I’m morphed! Core: Man, there better not be no actual garbage in that thing! ‘Cuz 1 don’t want t o get a bunch of nasty-ass rancid food and shit all over me. Production Manager: It’s clean, Core. Superbeast You sure this crap will work? 1 mean, a camera just happens to be here as 1 ambush Core?

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Yeah, yeah, 1 know, the marks’ll eat it up. Okay, Duke, I’m

lurking in the alley, waiting to pounce on you, hand-

* Core: You just keep your claws above the waist, Robby, this ain’t

no damn porno. Superbeast Yeah, 1 know; thosemotherfuckers can really act. Hey, Gary, can we get some theme music or something for this? Yeah, like maybe that “smack-my-bitch-up” jigga-jigga-WHOMP soundtrack from Hardballsor some shit? Core: Damn, Robby, settle your ass down. And, like, take some of that Mauler prize money and get youself a ho or somethin’ ‘cuz you starting to scare me. Production Manager: All right, let’s do this! Places, everyone. Lights… Core: And don’t be shootin’ on me or takin’ no cheap shot either, Robby, ‘cuz 1 don’t wanna have to really hurt you till it’s time. Production Manager: Camera… Superbeast Don’t worry, bro, 1 ain’t kickin’ your ass till I’m paid for it. Production Manager: Action! [scene is shot] Production Manager: Okay, that’s a wrap. Great sell of the dumpster shot, Core – 1 thought you were dead! Steele, a little less emoting next time. Superbeast Hey, that shit works on the skew-metal kids, it’ll work on the marks. Anyhow, if that’s it, I’m dorming down and hitting the showers. Oh, yeah, Duke, remember that Juggz place 1 was telling you about? They got one here in town, right next to the convention center. Great microbrew, no waitresses under 36DD, and it makes those plates of hot wings in the “Nova” size. Wanna grab a few plates? Core: Hell yeah! 1 ain’t had nothin’ to eat all day. Hook me up. Production Manager: Whoa, whoa, whoa, you can’t do that, you guys are BITTER ENEMIESnow! If the N! barracudas see you guys eating together …. Core: Get the damn stick out yer ass, Gary, 1 always wear my special sunglasses! Superbeast Yeah, they’re like Clark Kent’s magic glasses, so everyone lookin’ at him thinks he’s some 150-lb. w s s ! Core: 1’11 stick my 150-lb. w s s y boot up your hairy baboon-lookin’ ass at the pay-per-view, white boy! Now hurry the hell up, I’m hungry!


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N! Reporter: Mr. Stryker, rumors have circulated in recent weeks about you taking a role as a guest contender during next month’s XWF pay-per-view Hong Kong Karnage. Do you have any response for-

* Stryker: Hell yeah, son, 1gotta response for whatever [CENSORED] artists are goin’ around talkin’ smack about the Stone Badass! Do I look like a damn cartoon to you, son? Do 1 look like Core or Mauler or one of them other miteinjectin’, pumped-up, fake-ass faggots that goes out there and rolls around in his damn underwear so that a bunch of fat @Net turds can sit around and jack off? If Core wants to take off his little makeup and come out from inside his little arena and bring his little Core Meltdown to Tanzania or Macedonia or Kashmir or some other place where real men do real fightin’for a livin’, then the Stone Badass will be happy to shove the sole of my boot straight up his ass and stomp a mudhole in his $40-million-a-fight intestines, and that’s all 1 got ta say about that! So in answer to yer little question,

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The language of Violence Since the early 20th century, the business of professional wrestling has evolved its own unique terminology, much of which has been incorporated into the XWF. angle (noun): An issue, real or scripted, between XWF competitors. (‘‘See, the angle is that Maxx Mauler steals Core’s girlfriend, and Core’s pissed, so they have a lot of heat going into the pay-per-view.”) book (verb): To schedule a match between two (or more) XWF competitors. The person who schedules matches is referred to as the booker. DQ (noun, verb): Disqualification, disqualify. Face (short for “babyface”) (noun): A combatant generally perceivedas a “good guy” by the public at large; the fan favorite in a match. finisher (noun): A move or quantum attack that is considered particularly devastating and often results in a KO for the attacker. Finishers generally have special names (Core Meltdown, Mauler Bomb, etc.). Maxed-out powers often fall in this category. gimmick(noun): The “character” an XWF fighter creates for herself, if any. heat (noun): 1) Crowd response, good or bad. Having a great deal of heat is seen as a sign of being over and, thus, marketability. 2) Bad blood (real or scripted) between competitors. heel (noun): A combatant generally disliked and perceived as a “thug” or “bad guy” by the public at large. jobber (jabroni, scrub, ham-’n’-egger) (noun): A fighter of inferior skill o r power who loses the majority of his or her bouts. I n the XWF, jobbers are typically mitoids. mark (noun, verb, adjective): In its broadest sense, a mark IS any XWF fan or other outsider to the business. Specifically, the term often refers to rabid, “goober” fans or fans of a particular fighter. (“The marks were lined up around the block to get an autograph of Core.” “Yeah, whatever, I’m a mark for Ravana myself.” “Damn, that crowd marked out when Superbeast walked in!”) over(adjective): Popular with (or despised by) the XWF fanbase, and thus, generally perceived as a

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potential main-event attraction. (“Damn, Core is way over with the New York crowd!”) pop (noun, verb): Crowd response to a fighter, entrance or move. (‘‘Did you hear the pop Superbeast got when he walked in?” “The crowd popped huge for the Core Meltdown.”) shoot (noun, verb): A fight or interview that is not scripted out in advance, that is “real.” Most important XWF matches are shoots. work (noun, verb): A prescripted interview, comment or match designed to generate interest in an upcoming show. (“Nah, Core doesn’t really wanna kill Mauler for stealing his ho -that whole angle’s a work.” “Yeah, well, they sure worked me.”)

History The XWF firstbody-slammed its way into the public eye on September 30,2004 at Madison Square Garden’s infamous ManhattanMeltdown pay-per-view. However, the blueprint for the organization was drawn up well before, in the real and scripted combat spectacles of the 20th century. Fighting events have long been intertwined with American pop culture. Boxers like “Brown Bomber” Joe Louis, Rocky Marciano and George Foreman slugged their way to national adulation. During the ‘60sand OS, a dark-horse contender by the name of Cassius Clay metamorphosed into global icon Muhammad Ali, thrilling audiences in televised bouts like The Rumble in the]ung/e and The ‘Thri//ain Manila. In the O OS, a classic underdog story of a pug from Philadelphia gaining a once-in-a-lifetime shot against an Ali-like World champ launched the career of Sylvester Stallone. I n the late ‘80sand ?Os, men like Mike Tyson and Evander Holyfield commanded as much as $70 million for the winner’s purse in their bouts. Boxing’s sleazy “sister” sport, the scripted exhibition of professional wrestling, likewise became big business in the late 20th century. During the 1980s advent of cable television, the World Wrestling Federation, under the guidance of owner Vince McMahon, expanded its product from a regional to a national and, then, a global, audience. Playing on post-Vietnam America’s need for heroes and exploiting the popularity of movies like Rocky 3 and Rambo: first BloodPart

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of the day. “Sports entertainment” was no exception. Many novas and their quantum powers bore strong resemblance to the superhero comics that had been perennially popular since the 1930s. Accordingly, it wasn’t a great imaginative leap to envision, and ultimately promote, nova-versus-nova spectacles. In fact, it was the initial Utopia responseto the Galateacrisis that planted the seeds for the nova shootfights of later years. Many novas, confused and disoriented by their eruptions, fled Utopia and local authorities alike in search of anonymity; others were actively repulsed by Utopia’s intervention efforts. Some of these novas went underground, where they were contacted by shady and often exploitative “agents” in exchange for sanctuary from government or Utopian intervention teams. This phenomenon was particularly pervasive in China. Here, the large population and repressive People’s Republic administration combined to produce a nova refugee populace that was both sizable and fearful of the government’s plans for them. Many of these refugees ended up in Hong Kong, Malaysia, Bangkok and Singapore, where underground bloodsports had long proliferated in the underworld. Seeing opportunity, criminal promoters took the refugee novas under their wing, setting them up in brutal and bloody massacres in which the novas would destroy dozens of baseline opponents at once. The novas, of course, became celebrities, albeit underground ones. Most noteworthy of the promoters was a Thai citizen by the name of Yai Lokampang, who ran the first nova-vs.-nova “cockfighting” pits. His prize find was an American expatriate by the name of Louis Martin Freeman, a devastating plasma-wielder who proved virtually unstoppable in one-on-one combat. The underground shoot leagues’ reputation spread through word of mouth and Internet (later OpNet) newsgroups; tape traders made fortunes selling videos of the illegal proceedings. Meanwhile, in the States, interest in mainstream sports was withering in the light of the Nova Age. Baseball, football, basketball and hockey all took massive revenue losses. Networks no longer wanted t o pay for the broadcast rights to any but the major events of the conventional sports leagues. One of the biggest losers was Vince McMahon’s World Wrestling Federation. Compared to the exploits of novas, wrestling was seen as hopelessly mundane and “two-oh.” As the 21st century dawned, the McMahon family finally sold their shares to Houston investor William Blair (“6.6.”) Bartlett, bowing out of what they considered a dead enterprise. Bartlett had other plans. He had heard of the Asian nova shootfights, and he wasted no time in contacting Lokampang. Together, the two men laid the groundwork for an empire to be built on the ashes of the WWF: flashy, as big and bold as novas themselves, with enough shootfighting legitimacy to keep it dramatic (and legal) and enough glitz and glamour t o make it palatable to a

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mainstream First World audience. Taking a cue from the now-defunct Extreme Championship Wrestling, Bartlett dubbed his promotion-to-be the Xtreme Warfare Federation, or XWF. This was Bartlett’s dream, and he risked his father’s financial empire on the startup. To fill out his Executive Committee, Bartlett recruited Lokampang, as well as three others of varying expertise. Countess lsabella Bercaru, a European debutante with connections to the lnternational Olympic Committee, gave the sport some athletic legitimacy and provided valuable connections to global magnates. Dr. Jocelyn Silva, a management consultant who had formerly held a position in Project Utopia, was recruited t o smooth over the enterprise’s almost inevitable conflicts with that organization. Finally, t o run the day-to-day affairs and provide the “face” of the XWF, Bartlett contacted legendary retired wrestler “Nature Boy” Ric Flair, offering the multiple-time champ a job as CEO. Having had past problems with other CEOs, Flair relished the opportunity to “be the boss,” and the Executive Committee was complete. Bartlett banked everything on that first pay-perview, bringing in a host of novas and celebrity guests from around the globe. ‘The day after, the numbers bore out Bartlett’s business sawy; the PPV had pulled in a mind-boggling 32.7 rating, and a new cultural phenomenon had been born. Since then, under the guidance of the Executive Committee and fueled by the drawing power of awe-inspiring and marketable novas like Duke “Core” Baron, Maxx Mauler and Rob “Superbeast” Steele, the XWF has been an unstoppable financial machine. Racked almost monthly by some scandal or another, riddled with shady dealings and ties to organized crime, the XWF simply takes any controversy and uses it as fuel for ever-higher ratings. One suspects, in fact, that 6.6. Bartlett wouldn’t have it any other way.

Structure Fundamentally, the XWF exists t o promote shoot matches between novas, who compete for money and championship titles. Everything about the corporation is geared toward this end. The company is based in Stamford, Connecticut and headed by the Executive Committee. Under the Committee are the departments of Creative, Marketing (both in charge of characterization), Public Relations, Legal, Human Resources/Talent Acquisition, Financial and Administrative. Novas work with the XWF on an independent contractor basis. Typically, a nova signs a contract guaranteeing a certain amount of money (in the low sevens or thereabouts) t o work a certain number of dates (typically 20 or so a year, with the understanding that injuries might reduce this figure and that “no work = no pay”). The real money comes in the form OF prize

purses, which are set up by the Committee and var) depending on the status of the combatants. A matct between relative unknowns might merit $100,000 or so, while a title fight for the Black Circle championshiF might have a $50 million purse. Purses are typically splil 75 percent125 percent between the winner and loser Note that while individual purses are often lower than in late 1QQOsboxing, novas’ accelerated healing means they typically can fight many more times a year than even the toughest baseline fighter, so there is ample opportunity for a nova t o get rich beyond his wildest dreams – if he’s tough enough to take it. Currently, the XWF has 24 novas under full-time contract, with about an equal number “dropping by” for occasional series, one-shot contracts, etc. The XWF loves “celebrity death match” bouts, in which a nova luminary from another field (novox, TV/movies, city franchise, DeVries, etc.) is persuadedto enter the arena for a one-shot match.

portant matchup and to avoid bringing the building down around customers’ ears.

The Combat

The Circuit Although the XWF hosts numerous cross-promotional specials and (tax-deductible) charity work, the bottom line still comes from the fighting events. ‘Three tiers comprise the total circuit, and a combatant’s status generallydetermineswhere on the circuit she competes. At the apex of the circuit are the pay-per-views: six per year, featuring the cream o f the crop and drawing US ratings in the 20s and above. The Havoc in Havana pay-per-view, held in June, is a perennial classic and is complemented by December’s year-ending Manhattan Meltdown. Pay-per-views are held around the globe, and cities compete to host the events the way they used t o vie for the Olympics. It is at the pay-per-views that the most important matches -title fights, grudge occur. blowoffs, celebrity bouts The XWF also broadcasts a one-hour week1 prime-time show, Monday Mega-Massacre show is broadcast via N!, at QPM Easter Standard Time over conventional and OpNet channels. “Triple M,” as its fans refer to it, occasionally features title bouts, but more often focuses on the up-and-coming contenders, with jobber bouts and copious interviews thrown in as filler. The XWF would like to feature more big-name fights on Monday nights, but they don’t want t o risk excessive injury t o their big-money pay-per-view draws, and they aren’t about t o give away too many PPV matchups for free. At the bottom rung o f the XWF circuit are the “house shows” -nontelevised events occurring at venues around the world. House shows are typically held in major cities, to make the gate revenue worthwhile, and tend to feature lower-tier stars. Combatants at house shows often hold back from fighting at full power both so as not to spend themselves before a more im-

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-strutted, and all components were engineered to be both light and durable. A built-in computer allows the arena to keep track of elapsed time, warn combatants about rules violations and even throw up vitrium panels between combatants if a ring doctor determines the match should cease. ‘The arena is typically set up in the midst of a larger stadium: an “arena within an arena.” The typical arena shape consists of a one-level, fenced-in structure with vitrium panels providing simultaneous visibility and protection. For super-agile, flying o r other combatants, the structure is often varied. And, for those omnipresent “gimmick” matches, a variety of special components electrified fences, firepits, opening and closing trapdoors, rows of spikes – can be used to customize the arena. Within the confines of the Combat Zone. novas



can smash, blast or soar away, confident that the viewing public is safe from harm. Still, no precautions can fully safeguard against the fallout from a nova-fight, and show attendees are warned that the XWF is not liable for any accidental injuries t o bystanders that occur as the result of a bout (this has been upheld in the US by the Supreme Court, and similar decisions have been handed down in most First World countries). The Combat Zone is set up and reconstructed between matches by a unit of special ring workers known as the Kombat Krewe. 7he Krewe are highly skilled, almost fanatical about their job; they have turned the construction of the arena into an art form. Arena construction is open to the public viewing, and,sometimes, provides nearly as much of a spectacle as the subsequent matches. Krewe members deftly swing along cables, flourish their tools in the manner of a Benihana chef, monkeyup thesuperstructure to precariousheights and otherwise provide as much entertainment as possible for the eager marks.

The Rules Much as with its pro-wrestling antecedent, the

XWF has few rules and guidelines, most of which still tend t o be liberally ignored by fighters, fans and promoters alike. Essentially, the only barred move is the eye gouge, due to the risk of permanent injury. As well, no foreign objects may be brought into the arena, though makeshift weapons constructed from the arena surface itself are acceptable. Biting is not only permissible, but (in the case of freaks like Superbeast) expected. Lethal attacks are acceptable, subject t o the restrictions noted below; however, Disintegrate o r other aggravated attacks are forbidden, and novas with such powers are not allowed to compete. Combatantsleavingthe confinesof the Combat Zone itself have until a five-count (made by the Combat Zone’s computer) to reenter the ring or be disqualified. This allows, for example, a leaping or flying combatant to make an attack whose trajectory takes her outside the C2‘s ceiling, but the combatant cannot hover out of reach without being DQed. A combatant will also be disqualified if he or she receives outside interference from a colleague, though telepathic assistance is nearly impossible to check for. Disqualifiedcombatants lose, of course, and a title can change hands on a DQ, so such occurrences are rare. Most preliminary matchups have a 15-minute time limit. Semi-main and number-one contendership matchups typically go to 30 minutes, and all title matches are no-time-limit bouts. Battles are t o knockout or submission; unlike old-style 20th-century wrestling, pinfalls are not counted, though a combatant immobilized for longer than 30 seconds is generally considered to have effectively submitted. Matches that go to the time limit are generally considereddraws, though matchesbetween

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combatants with very similar styles can be judged on points. One or more paraphysicians sit at ringside, and they have the authority to stop a fight (awarding the match to the opponent) if one combatant appears to be at risk of serious injury (has taken sufficient lethal damage to reduce her t o Maimed on the Health chart). Novas with lethal attacks typically compete in the Red or Black Circles only. Tor Fjellanger is very wary of booking lethal-attack wielders, and the Executive Committee typically pairs lethal fighters against each other (in a “live by the sword” philosophy). The XWF is a violent world, but the Committee does not want its paid-for franchises to die o r suffer lasting injury if it can be avoided. Deaths can and do occur, however, and all combatants (including and especially mitoids) are required to sign liability waivers.

Jobbers ~



It is an old wrestling truism that every circuit need: mits scrubs: ~ ~ the guys whose purpose is to make the rea

tor is paramount: The combatant must be able to put on a good show. Both her personality and powers must be geared toward making an exciting match. This trait. far more than the nova’s actual ability, is the key t o getting hired and marketed in the XWF. Novas who lack flash and panache, or at least a rugged badass charisma, tend not t o be hired or t o languish in the undercard, regardless of their ability to fight. For example, a nova who surrounds herself with a devestating lmmolate quantum field might well be a credible contender, but it’s not entertaining t o watch her stand there for 30 minutes while her bare-knuckle opponent tries to figure out a way to affect her. Likewise, a nova with the ability t o control others’ brainwaves might well be able to make an opponent submit with a glance -but that’s not what a pay-perview audience wants to see. Nothing affects the bottom line more than an audience chant OF “BORING!”, and so, novas with “subtle” powers o r low-key personalities aren’t generally sought by the promoters. Generally speaking, Mega-Strength, Dexterity and Stamina, Armor, Force Field, Quantum Bolt. Fliaht and

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stars look good. In 20th-century professionalwrestlina

a more prominent wrestler, the iobbers helDed build interest in that wrekler. Although the XWF bills itself as promoting nonscripted, no-holds-barred, nova-vs.-nova competition, this is not strictly true. While only a small percentage of bouts are outright faked, the XWF knows better than to run the risk o f one of its nova superstars injuring him- o r herself at a house show or other non-main-event bout. Then, too, novas willing t o risk injury o r death in the XWF are relatively Few and f a r between. And so, the XWF maintains a pool of “jobbers” – dime-a-dozen preliminary fighters who can (sort of) look good in the arena but who can’t hold a candle t o the true novas on the circuit. Jobbers are typically mitoids, snared through the web of Yai Lokampang and his HeavenThunder connections. The XWF recruits such characters, using 6.6. Bartlett’s political clout and Jocelyn Silva’s Utopia connections to get authorities to (thus far) look the other way. Typically, the XWF‘s Creative Department packages its recruited mitoids with ostentatious names, gimmicks and costumes designed to show off their chemically enhanced physiques. Indeed, the scrubs oftentimes have more outlandish personas and attire than the novas bhemselves, to detract from their rather bread-and-butter combat abilities (and, if the mitoid dies, the gimmick :an simply be given to another scrub). They are then, more or less, thrown to the wolves. Some mitoids battle each other in preliminary and indercard matchups, while “lucky” scrubs might get to )attle an actual nova at a house show or other smaller ienue. Due to the relative sparsity of novas, XWF shows )Ften feature more mitoid matchups than nova vs. nova uperfights; the public isn’t typically even aware of the fifference, so long as one of the “superdudes” does iomething cool like lift a car during the fight. Generally speaking, novas try t o take it easy on he jobbers, realizing that they need a supply OF such bpponents t o pad their records. Nonetheless, a obber’s career is usually short-lived, as they tend t o vind up maimed, crippled or dead. Ironically, the most :ommoncause o f jobber “permanent countout” is not njuries from Fights, but cardiac arrest, as their sysems collapse under the constant infusion o f mite.

A few jobbers manage to survive (if not necessarily win) several bouts. These guys actually gain a small modicum of recognition, becoming minor characters in the XWF circus and being paid accordingly. Indeed, the OpNet hosts several OpNet sites and fan clubs devoted solely t o “Butcher” Moretti, a toughas-nails mitoid whose loud mouth and 0-36 win-loss record combine t o make him a minor cult celebrity (he has the honor of having his spectacular four-second loss t o Core memorialized in the intro clips of Monday Mega-Massacre) .

Championship Circles Obviously, not all nova combatants are o f equal ability. Nova A might be a whirlwind of destruction among baselines but be completely unable to penetrate the tank-shell-bouncing skin o f Nova 8. Accordingly, the XWF Executive Committee has declared three levels, or “circles,” in which fighters may contend: the Silver, Red and Black Circles. A nova is assigned to a circle depending on her relative power level, as determined by a battery of tests and the quantum-sensing abilities of Tor Fjellanger. Generally, novas stay in one particular circle. However, if computer simulations and Fjellanger’s intuition indicate that a particular combatant would have a t least a fighting chance against a more “powerful” foe and (more importantly) the XWF promoters think it’s a money matchup, the Executive Committee will usually make the match. Within each circle, rankings based on win-loss record (and, unofficially, on considerationssuch as marketability) determine the relative position of combatants. Rookies start at the bottom and must work their way up the contendership ladder. To gain a title shot against the champion, a contender must scale the ranks until he gets a shot at the number-one contender, then must beat the number-one contender to get a title shot. A t least, this is the theory. In practice, the Executive Committee can and does make matches that they think will be interesting and revenue-generating, regardless of relative positions in the rankings. This sometimes leads to unscrupulous behind-the-scenes feuding, as a nova low on the contendership scale publicly badmouths or even ambushes the champ. Though the nova typically suffers a huge fine for doing this, the public often gets so interested in the bad blood that the Executive Committee declares a title shot for the upstart, in hopes of increasing pay-per-view buyrate. More than one nova punk has rocketed t o main-event status in such a fashion.

Silver Circle Not all XWF combatants are monstrous brutes capable of juggling tanks. As the “lightweight” division

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of the XWF, the Silver Circle hosts matches that, despite lacking the raw force or firepower of higher circles, provide some of the circuit’s most spectacular displays of nova ability. Warriors of the Silver Circle can’t necessarily lift a battleship, blast through that battleship or survive the aforementioned battleship being dropped on their head. Nonetheless, they are most dangerous. Although seen by some of the more mouth-breathing fans as less “badass” than monsters like Core, Silver Circle combatants are often among the most skilled fighters, as they tend to rely on speed and ability over brute force. The Silver Circle division has played host to breathtaking aerial duels, contests of blinding super-speed and displays of inhuman martial prowess. The Silver Circle Champion is considered the number-one contender t o the Red Circle Champion’s title and may challenge for it at any time. However, if the Silver Circle challenger loses, she must forfeit her championship and must work her way through the contendership ranks once more. For this reason, intercircle challenges take place only rarely. In game terms, Silver Circle combatants rarely inflict more than 15 health levels of damage with an attack.

Silver Circle Champion: L a Araiia No one has seen the true face o f Mexican contender La Araiia, “The Spider.” As swift and silent as the legendary ninja, La Araiia can envelop a foe in shadow, close in and defeat the foe with a flurry o f strikes without him getting a single shot in. Never speaking, she conducts all business through her manager. La Araiia is slight o f build but deceptively strong and blindingly fast. She wears a full black eufiber bodysuit and featureless mask, the whole adorned with silver “spiderweb” strands. Notable Traits: Strength 4, Dexterity 5, MegaStrength 1 (Quantum Leap), Mega-Dexterity 4 (Accuracy, Enhanced Movement, Physical Prodigy, Rapid Strike), Mega-Stamina 3 (Durability, Resiliency), Holo 1, Shroud 2, Athletics 5, Martial Arts 5


Red Circle The “middleweight” range of XWFers, Red Circle fighters can throw and take nastier quantum punches than their Silver Circle counterparts but lack the sheer force o f the Black Circle “heavies.” The Red Circle

Champion is considered the number-one contender t o the Black Circle championship and may challenge for the title, subject t o the same restrictions as the Silver Circle champion. In game terms, Red Circle fighters tend to inflict/ withstand somewhere in the 15-20 health level range, with some exceptions on either side. This division is probably the most eclectic in terms of power levels and matchups, and this fact produces some of the most interesting contests on the circuit, as two fighters with completely different sets of quantum powers test their skills against each other.

Red Circle Champion: Raja Ravana (“The Demon King”) No one knows the origin of this enigmatic competitor, who dominates the Red Circle with a diverse arsenal of raw strength, grappling skill, speed and fiery breath. A popular competitor, Ravana also involves himself in the burgeoning Mumbai film industry, where he has been the villainlantihero i n several action-adventure flicks. Raja Ravana is rumored to have a human form, but no one has ever made any believable claim to have seen it. When fighting, filming o r making public appearances, the Demon King appears as an imposing 6’6″, red-skinned behemoth, with four sinewed arms, blazingred eyes and a ruby embedded in his brow. Notable Traits: Mega-Strength 3, Mega-Dexterity 2 (Enhanced Movement), Mega-Stamina 1(Adaptability, Durability, Regeneration), Mega-Wits 1 (Quickness), Armor 3, Body Modification: Extra Limbs, Quantum Bolt 3, Teleport 1, Arts (Acting) 2, Martial Arts 4, Dormancy 5

Black Circle This is for the true tanks: the guys who can lift buildings, blast through a fortified bunker or crush diamonds in their bare hands. As the heavy hittersof the circuit, BlackCirclecombatants are among the most idolized, “household name” novas, despite the fact that they often substitute raw power for fighting skill. The Black Circle champion is considered the champion of the entire XWF, along with all the perks and responsibilities that entails. In game terms, contenders seeking entry into the Black Circle should be able to routinely inflict and/or take 20+ health levels of damage.

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Black Circle Champion: Duke “Core” Baron The most dominant figure in the sport, Core is arguably the most popular XWF combatant of all time. Born in a working-class neighborhood in Brooklyn, Core (then Louis Freeman) was a difficult child t o control and left home at an early age. Learning t o fight gave him a degree of discipline, and a stint in the Navy gave him some useful j o b skills, but Freeman was just too stubbornly individualistic t o fit into a barracks or corporation. His eruption left him confused, and his military time had made him less than trustful of the US government’s goodwill, so when the intervention teams came for him, he fled the country. Hooking up with Yai Lokampang, Freeman became a fixture o f the shootfighting circuit and later the XWF. Core is a roughhewn, intimidating fighter, as elemental and uncontrollable as the plasma he wields, but will go out of his way to counsel troubled youths as best he can. Notable Traits: Strength 5, Dexterity 4, Stamina 5, Charisma 5, Mega-Strength 3, Mega-Dexterity 1, MegaStamina 4. Boost (Strength, Quantum Bolt) 4, Force Field 3, lmmolate 3, Quantum Bolt 4 (Extra: Supercharge), lntimidation 5, Martial Arts 5, Quantum 4

Other Noteworthy Contenders Rob “Superbeast” Steele Nova w i t h N o Heart … L o r d o f t h e Dead…

Corpsegrinder… these sobriquets and many more are given t o feral XWF warrior Rob Steele, better known as the Superbeast. Relatively new t o the XWF scene, Superbeast has slashed and clawed his way through the contenders’ rankings, even gaining a couple of title shots at Core himself. Out of the arena, Steele appears as any other baseline, albeit one with striking, rugged good looks and a perpetual two-day stubble. When preparing for battle, though, Steele accesses his quantum matrix, transforming himself into a savage, monstrous, semihuman man-beast. I n this form, Steele uses his nhuman strength, athleticism and wicked tusks to .end his competition into submission. Steele’s brash charm and looks have made him imnensely popular, and he is one of the XWF’s most prized

though most critics believe this was due to Steele’s XWF rep rather than on their musical merits. Notable Traits: Mega-Strength 4 (Quantum Leap), Mega-Dexterity 3 (Catfooted), Mega-Stamina 5 (Resiliency), Armor 3, Claws 3, Athletics 5, Brawl 5, Perform 2, Dormancy 5

Christine ”The Terminatrix“ Jesensky This malevolent creature claims to represent the Teragen, though no known Teragen have substantiated her boasts. A shrieking f u r y i n the ring, Jesensky alternates between the Red and Black Circles; she has had one t i t l e fight, though she lost. She gives a hell of an interview, claiming that she does battle i n the XWF as a means of punishing those novas who would prostitute themselves for the baseline masses; skeptics note that she cashes her prize checks like the rest. In the ring, Jesensky stands nearly seven feet tall, with rough gray skin; a wide, sharklike mouth filled with pointed teeth; long barbed claws; and blank, staring black eyes. The promoters, and most of the other combatants, fear her and give her a wide berth. The baseline public finds her fascinating, though, and Jesensky “puts asses in seats,” so she is tolerated for now. Notable Traits: Mega-Strength 3 (Crush), MegaDexterity 3 (Accuracy, Rapid Strike), Mega-Stamina 4 (Adaptability, Regeneration), Claws 3, Disrupt 2, Brawl

Melinda Guzman At the age of 27, Melinda Guzman is already an XWF icon. It is not for her size – she is a petite 5’3” nor she commonly competes in the for her raw power

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Silver Circle division. Her win-loss record is not the greatest, though it is quite good. However, she is unique among the XWF‘s fighters in that she “ran the Triple Crown,” which is to say that in 2007 she won the Silver Circle championship, used her number-one contender status to challenge for the RedCircle championship, won it, immediately challenged for the Black Circle championship and, in a stunning upset, defeated the reigning champion. Guzman’s reign did not last long (she was dethroned during her second title defense), but nonetheless, the feat has forever earned her legendary, almost godlike, status among XWF contenders and fans alike. Considered the “Upset Queen,” Guzman has made a career out of beating foes against whom, on paper, she shouldn’t stand a chance. Notable Traits: Mega-Strength 1, Mega-Dexterity 2 (Accuracy), Mega-Stamina 4, Mega-Charisma 1 (Dreadful Mien), Density Control (Increase) 1, Luck 5, Willpower 10

The XWF Executive Committee The true “big boys” of the XWF, the Executive Committee are the top managers and decision-makers of the promotion.

B.B. Bartlett Growing up in Houston, Texas, as the son and heir apparent to the Bartlett banking and consulting empire, William (“Billy”) Blair Bartlett had a keen love of sports and a keener eye For “bidness.” In high school, “B.B.” was a standout athlete, lettering in football and winning several wrestling trophies; when he wasn’t studying at his daddy’s knee (in the process learning more about investment banking than most MBA grads twice his age), he was hitting the gym or the field in preparation for a pro football career. However, despite his lofty birth, 6.6. just wasn’t quite NFL caliber, and he languished in the second string at the University of Texas. Bitterly disappointed, 6.6. focused his considerable energies on his studies, with the result that he graduated summa cum laude from Harvard’s MBA program. Moving back to Houston, 6.6. voluntarily took a position as an entry-level business analyst for Bartlett Consulting, then worked his way through the firm’s ranks on merit alone (or so he likes to tell his lovers and drinking buddies). 6.6. always had a true Texan’s love of “rasslin’”; he grew up on the old World Class Championship Wrestling, and as a college student avidly followed the WWF, WCW and ECW. During the wrestling boom of the late ‘?Os, 6.6. invested a considerable sum of money into the World Wrestling Federation IPO, buy-

ing enough shares to gain a position with the McMahon family o n t h e WWF’s Board of Directors. A f t e r t h e t u r n of t h e Nova Age, t h e public, hungry for novas, grew bored by t h e a r t i f i c i a l theatrics of t h e WWF, and t h e company’s stock nosedived. But where the McMahons saw ruin, Bartlett saw opportunity. Buying out the McMahons’ shares, B.B. became the sole owner of the World Wrestling Federation in 2000. From there, he built the XWF empire and is the Chairman OF the Executive Committee. Bartlett is your classic “ruthless businessman”; t o him, “bidness” is like sports, and both are like war. A Texas drawl and laconic manner conceal a steel-trap mind; if Bartlett sees a competitive advantage, he will run you over, nova o r baseline, like a ‘78 Steelers blitz.

Countess lsabella Bercaru No one knows much about the deliberately cryptic Countess Bercaru or her claims to nobility. She first surfaced in t h e lQQOs,as part o f lnternational Olympic Committee tyrant Juan Antonio Samaranch’s coterie of hangers-on. A jetsetter and debutante, Bercaru has connections t o the rich and famous everywhere. She has taken several of the XWF beefcakes as lovers/pawns, using them in various underhanded and typically petty power plays. The other members of the Committee find the Countess’affectations grating, but her connections with world leaders and glitterati are invaluable. As a onetime lover of Teragen spokesperson Count Orzaiz, Bercam is the XWF‘s meal ticket in the European and African markets.

Yai Lokampang Formerly a small-time promoter, Yai Lokampang ran bloody, underground pitfighting competitions in turn-of-the-century Thailand and Malaysia. When the nova boom hit, Lokampang saw the possibilities and quickly began promoting illegal nova-versus-human

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o r nova-versus-nova death matches. Expanding his operation to Japan, Lokampang hooked up with and ultimately managed the powerful nova Louis Freeman; the cagey promoter knew a meal ticket when he saw one. Of course, the Nakato and HeavenThunder Triad came looking for their cut, and Yai readily joined the latter, seeing it as a powerful source of connections and favors. When the XWF began consolidating and legitimizing the s h o o t f i g h t l e a g u e s , Lokampang quickly assimilated his stable of fighters, most notably Freeman (now known as Duke “Core” Baron) into the division. Recognizing Lokampang’s familiarity with shootfight promotion, as well as his knowledge of the expansive Asian market, B.B. Bartlett offered Lokampang a seat on the Executive Committee. Next t o Flair, Lokampang is the most “hands-on” promoter; he keeps the mite coming and is invaluable in planning overall operations strategy. Still, Bartlett distrusts Lokampang and has warned him on several occasions to keep his blatantly illegal dealings separate from the XWF – at least separate enough to keep the Justice Department at bay.


Jocelyn Silva A former Utopia employee, Jocelyn Silva maintains close ties with the Project. She is invaluable to the success of the XWF, as Silva’s connections enable the company to maintain smooth and harmonious relations with Utopia’s administration. Additionally, Silva’s international connections serve the XWF in good stead when negotiating with venue owners for pay-per-view and TV broadcasts. Silva monitors the condition and treatment of XWF employees, keeps Utopia properly apprised of the XWF‘s operations and handles joint XWF-Utopia public-relations efforts. In reality, Silva is a member of Project Proteus. Acting on orders from Director Thetis herself, Silva ensures that XWF novas adhere to vigorous training regimens, which allows the Project t o constantly monitor the novas’ vital signs, quantum-expenditure rates and other vagaries of their bodies. Sometimes Silva, acting through intermediaries, sends a particularly talented fighter out to do a “small errand” in exchange for a title shot or makes sure that a potentially troublesome nova is prematurely pushed into a

nore prestigious (and likely injurious or fatal) match ,gainst far superior competition.

Ric Flair (”The Nature Boy”) To be the man, you gotta beat the man! And as far as the XWF is concerned, acting CEO “Nature Boy” i i c Flair is still “The Man.” Ric Flair is as old-school as they come; he was a mainstay of pro wrestling from the 1970s through the late “?Os,where he “walked the aisle” in his trademark sequined robes, accompanied by a bevy of “lovely” ladies, to the strains o f “Thus Spake Zarathustra.” More often than not, he walked back victorious, bearing one of the over 15 recognized World titles that he held during his checkered career. A classic wrestling “heel” or bad guy, Flair was nonetheless loved around the world for his work ethic, showmanship, panache and, well, flair. When the XWF Executive Committee needed an acting chief executive and public spokesperson, they approached the ex-champ. Already a successful manager of several gyms, Flair took to his more extensive duties with aplomb. Today, Flair is a white-haired patriarch approaching 60, yet still walks with a champion’s poise and presence. As acting president of the XWF, Flair routinely contends with some of the most godlike presences and colossal egos on the planet, yet backs down from no one. (“I was goin’ 60 minutes with Rick) ‘The Dragon’ Steamboat when you were a quantumpowered stain in your daddy’s briefs, boy! Now pui down my Lear Jet – and not a scratch on it, or 1’1 fine the quantum right outta yer ass – and pack you’ bags for the Seattle show like 1 tell ya! And just fol that, yer ridin’ Coach! Woooo!”)

N’dolu Nyala (“The Power Monger”) Hailing from the war-torn territory formerl) known as Sudan, N’dolu Nyala apparently erupted ii the early 21st century. Receiving military training, Nyal; first served his nation as a soldier, then became an elite then forsook that life for the glamour of the XWF. Entering the circuit in 2005, Nyala made a brie splash, but his powers (the ability t o supercharge h’ quantum matrix, thus boosting his strength, durabil ity, speed and reaction time) were not on the level ( the heavy hitters like Core; moreover, while his mill tary background had made him a good fighter, the tri

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)ros left concepts like “good” in the dust, and Nyala vith them. Accordingly, Nyala’s win-loss record beIan to drop, his time in the XWF’s infirmary began to ,ise, and he retired from active competition at the md of the year. Resigned t o a job in the XWF‘s PR department br, worse, pimping himself t o a toy company, Nyala’s ortunes changed when he discovered that he could iugment the quantum matrix of other living beings. The Executive Committee was elated; Nyala’s pow?rs, coupled with whatever shit-for-brains baseline osers and wannabes stepped up t o the plate in search )f glory and fortune, provided an endless stream of jisposable scrubs. Today, Nyala (dubbed the “Power Monger” by