Tuesday July 26th
Panic Mode- Extreme!
7 A.M
Day three of the Summer XXXTreme Cruise is just starting, and the atmosphere on board has been nothing short of exciting. The fans and superstars and Bombshells alike are all taking advantage of the various appearances and events scheduled from day to day, while also finding time to relax and just enjoy the aspects from the cruise. It’s still early in the morning, and most are either still sleeping, or just starting to rise for the day. A select few others have, of course, been awake all night partying and just having a good time.
Internet Champion, Rage, is not one of those people.
He’s been up for going on three hours, and after giving up on falling back asleep, he decided to head to gym for an early workout. He made sure to leave quietly, though, as Kittie was still sleeping soundly when he got out of bed.
When he walked through the doors leading to the gym, he was glad to see he was the only one there, at least for the moment anyway. He headed straight for the weights and used the time to clear his head. Or try to at least, because there were a couple of things plaguing the big man’s mind at the moment. And neither was his upcoming title defense against Steve Ramone and Kain.
The biggest thing on Rage’s mind right at this very moment? How he’s going to actually build the courage to propose to Kittie.
After he finishes his workout, he leaves the gym and starts heading back to his and Kittie’s room. But as he is walking there, he’s hit with an oncoming panic attack. It’s never happened before, but he knows exactly why. He leans against the wall and takes his phone out of his pocket, immediately pulling up his contacts and finding the person he needs to call. He brings the phone up to his ear and waits for the person on the other end to answer. After a few rings, he’s relieved when she does.
Fantasia: Hello?
She sounds like she was just waking up, but Rage doesn’t seem to care. He takes in a deep breath before he goes on a full blown tangent.
Rage: I...I can’t do it, Fantasia. It’s a fucking stupid idea, and I can’t do it. What the fuck was I thinking?!
Fantasia: Whoa, whoa, whoa, Rage. Calm down. What are you talking about?
Rage: You know what I’m talking about! I can’t ask can’t propose to Kittie! Not only will she laugh in my face, but I’m standing here on the verge of a panic attack and I have a match on Sunday! This was a seriously fucked up idea!
Fantasia lets out a sigh as Rage runs his hand over his head. There are still beads of sweat from his workout, but some perspiration is also from him panicking.
Fantasia: Rage, listen to me, sweetie. You need to calm down and really listen to me.
Rage takes in a few deep breaths and lets Fantasia talk.
Fantasia: You’re nervous, I understand that. But you’re also way too invested in this now to turn back. The arrangements have already been made and you are going to go through with this. Kittie will not laugh in your face. Not as long as you do this the right way and don’t make a fool of yourself.
Rage: THAT is supposed to make me feel better?!
Fantasia chuckles a bit.
Fantasia: No, I suppose not. But it should get you to open your eyes. You took a huge step in buying the ring. You let me set up the details, which I am NOT calling to cancel now. I understand you have a match on Sunday, but think of it this way. This is a positive thing to do heading into the match. You’ll ask Kittie to marry you. She’ll accept your proposal and then you’ll go on to Summer XXXTreme and successfully defend your title.
Before Rage has a chance to get a word out in response, he hears another familiar voice on the other end of the phone. Fantasia’s better half- The Sin of Pride, “Sxxxy” Shane Boswell. And judging by his reaction, he just heard everything Fantasia said.
“Wait...what?! Peanut head is proposing to Kittie?!”
Rage closes his eyes and lets out a sigh.
Rage: Well isn’t that just great. Now Shane knows!
Fantasia: Unintentionally, Rage. He just got out of the shower and happened to walk in. I’ll make sure he doesn’t say anything.
Rage: It doesn’t matter, because I’m not going through with it! And tell him he better keep his mouth shut regardless!
Fantasia: Rage, listen to me. You ARE going through with this! You’re understandably nervous, but I really think this will be a huge step in the right direction for you. And for Kittie. You’re going to go to dinner tomorrow night. Clear your head of any negative thoughts and have a good time, and at some point in the night, you’re going to present that beautiful ring and ask Kittie to marry you. Do you understand me?
Rage takes in another deep breath and he shakes his head even though Fantasia can’t see it.
Rage: And what if I don’t?
Fantasia: Trust me, you don’t want to know the answer to that question, Rage. Quit trying to chicken out of this, because after all the help I’ve given you, I’m not going to let that happen.
“Peanut head needs to find his bollocks apparently!”
Rage: Remind me to bust his jaw next time I see him.
Fantasia: There will be none of that, because next time you see him, we’ll all have plenty to celebrate. Your’s and Kittie’s engagement. Your successful title defense. Chris winning the Roulette Championship. And Despayre bringing the World Heavyweight Championship to the Sins where it belongs. Summer XXXTreme is bringing great things, trust me.
Rage: What the fuck has happened to me, Fantasia?
Fantasia chuckles again.
Fantasia: It’s called change, Rage. Change is a good thing. You’re growing as a person. You’re evolving, but you’ve got it stuck in your head that it’s a bad thing when it’s really not. You’ll always be a Sin if that is what you’re worried about. You’re just strengthening the bonds of this unconventional family of ours. Relax.
Shane laughs in the background.
Rage: Tell Shane to please shut the fuck up, because he’s not helping.
Fantasia: Don’t you worry about him, Rage. Just focus on having a great time on that cruise, personally and competitively. Everything will fall into place!
Rage: Yeah, we’ll see about that. Look, I’ll let you go for now. I’ll let you know what happens.
Fantasia: I better be the first to know. Good luck, Rage. And don’t forget to dress somewhat nice!
Rage nods.
Rage: Yeah, yeah, thanks. Talk to you soon.
The two exchange their goodbyes and Rage ends the call. He takes in another deep breath and returns his phone to his pocket. He stands tall and regains his composure before he starts heading back to his room, and along the way, he tries to take Fantasia’s advice and clear his mind of any negative thoughts.
Wednesday
7:30 P.M
A Raging Proposal!
The night is finally here. The moment is drawing closer, and Rage couldn’t be more nervous. Kittie can tell something is up as the two of them are making their way to dinner for the night. Kittie has no idea it’s just going to be the two of them, but she does know that something is up because not only is Rage dressed somewhat nice, but he made sure that she was, too.
Kittie: Alright, goat face. You gonna tell me what is going on? Don’t try and tell me it’s nothing, because I’m not stupid.
They stop walking for a moment and Rage turns around and looks at her, frowning a bit. He did his best to avoid glaring, as it would probably turn into an argument.
Rage: I told you, we’re going to dinner.
Kittie: Yeah, I know that. But, what’s with the button up shirt and dress pants? And me in a skirt?
Rage shrugs, trying to come up with a believable excuse.
Rage: Look, I just figured that we’re on a cruise and it called for semi-formal clothes. Would you please stop giving me the third degree and just deal with it?
Kittie folds her arms across her chest and rolls her eyes.
Kittie: Whatever. I still think something is up.
Rage now rolls his eyes, but he turns and starts walking again. Kittie follows behind him and she only grows more confused as she spots the table for two just ahead. They’re headed for the door leading to a secluded part of the deck and Kittie starts walking slower.
Kittie: Ok...what is going on? What is all that?
Rage stops by the door, pushing it open for her. Kittie notes just how un-Ragelike he is being and she scratches her head.
Rage: That...is where we are having dinner. I just wanted to have one quiet night. Is there a problem with that?
Kittie’s just drops a little and she slowly walks up to him. She reaches up and feels his face.
Kittie: Are...are you feeling okay? Better question, who the fuck are you and what have you done with Rage?
Rage rolls his eyes and lets out a growl, casing Kittie to smirk.
Rage: I swear...I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t! Would you just go along with this, please?
Kittie: Uh huh...Now I’m just wondering what the hell you did.
Kittie shrugs it off quickly before she walks past Rage and out on to the deck. Softer music is playing in the background and a waiter pulls Kittie’s chair out for her. She takes a seat and thanks the waiter, as does Rage. After pouring them each a glass of wine, the waiter walks away, leaving the two alone for a few moments.
Kittie: I have to say, I’m impressed. A little confused, too, but impressed.
She sits back in her seat and folds her arms, smirking at Rage. Rage takes a drink of wine, then makes a funny face as he’s reminded of why he has never been a wine drinker. He takes a gulp of water soon after to get the bad taste out of his mouth.
Rage: You act like I’m totally incapable of doing something like this.
Kittie laughs.
Kittie: Oh I know you’re not. If I had to guess, I’d say someone helped you set this up, and I think I know who.
Rage now folds his arms and stares at Kittie with a raised eyebrow.
Rage: Alright. Who do you think helped?
Kittie: It’s pretty obvious. Despayre...and Angel.
Kittie lets out a laugh as she takes a drink of wine and Rage bursts out laughing. He shakes his head and takes another drink of water.
Rage: For once, you’re wrong about something. I definately did NOT have Despayre and Angel help me with this and for good reason. They don’t even know we’re here, and there is a reason for that, too.
Kittie: And the reason for that would be?
Questions...so many questions! Rage just blinks as Kittie waits for an answer, but he can’t come up with one fast enough. Luckily for Rage, the waiter returns with their dinner and he puts a plate in front of each one of them. Kittie waits for a moment, expecting Rage to answer her question, but he quickly starts digging into his food and she’s forced to follow suit.
The two are mostly quiet throughout their meal, and dessert, but eventually their plates are taken away, leaving only one thing left for Rage to do. The ring box is in his pocket and his nerves are starting to grow.
Rage: So...I need to talk to you about something.
Kittie turns to look back to Rage, and the look on her face is almost dreadful.
Kittie: Oh God...here it comes.
Rage raises an eyebrow.
Rage: W-what?
Kittie: You fucking did something and now you’re about to tell me what you did! That’s what all of this...
Kittie points to the whole dinner setting, only confusing Rage.
Kittie: ...was for! You feel guilty about something and....Wait. I...I know now. How fucking stupid could I be?!
Rage quickly reaches into his pocket, now convinced that Kittie has figured it out. Just before he pulls the ring box out, though, Kittie goes on a tirade.
Kittie: This is about Electra! You...you fucking gave into that psychotic bitch again! I knew it!
Kittie throws her hands up in the air, frustrated and growing more angry by the second. Rage’s eyes widen and he leaves the ring box in his pocket as he holds his hands up defensively.
Rage: Whoa, whoa, whoa...Wait a minute!
Kittie: Don’t try to deny it!
Before Rage has a chance to defend himself a familiar face suddenly bursts through the door and both Kittie and Rage turn their attention towards him.
Rage: Despy?! What the fu...heck are you doing here?! Get out of here!
Despayre: I can’t! There’s a Snorlax right on the table! A Snorlax!
Rage facepalms and then lets out a loud growl.
Rage: Oh you have to be fucking kidding me! Despy, get out of here with that pokemon shit!
Kittie just turns and stares at Rage, now angry with him for yelling at Despayre.
Despayre: Just let me catch him first!
Rage quickly pushes himself away from the table and stands right in Despayre’s way. Despayre tries to step around him, but Rage doesn’t let it. He heads over to Despayre, snatches the phone out of Despayre’s hands and then leads him back towards the door.
Rage: I’m kinda busy here, Despy! I’ll catch the damn thing for you, just...get out of here right now!
Despayre: Boy, Angel must have peed in your cornflakes again this morning!
Rage growls again before he shuts the door and shoves Despayre’s phone into his other pocket, forgetting about it for the moment. Kittie is now on her feet, prepared to leave, but Rage is blocking the door with his back turned to her.
Kittie: Was that really necessary?! Geez, have I ever told you you’re a fucking asshole?!
Rage: Yeah, well then I guess that’s why we’re fucking perfect for each other then! So why don’t you just marry me?!
Kittie doesn’t have time to react before Rage takes the ring box out of his pocket, opens it up and drops down to one knee in front of her! Her eyes widen and she goes speechless as she looks around them, then back to him and the ring.
Kittie: I...All of this...You mean...
Rage gets back to his feet, still holding the ring out to Kittie, waiting for an answer.
Rage: This had nothing to do with that psycho bitch, but leave it up to you to think it was. Can...can you just give me an answer already?
Kittie takes in a deep breath and then runs both hands through her hair. She stands there, still in shock as she stares at the ring, completely speechless, until she looks up at Rage and takes in another deep breath…
********************
Let’s flash forward to a short while later, shall we? Rage and Kittie are heading back to their room, but both are unusually quiet. Kittie has her hands hidden and Rage has a blank expression on his face as the finally approach the door to their room. Rage unlocks the door and pushes it open and when the two of them step inside, they’re both shocked to see someone waiting for them. The very familiar, yet very unwelcome face of Electra Blaze. She stands up from the edge of the bed as she was waiting for them. Or at least one of them.
Electra: Rage...Kittie...
Rage snarls but before he has a chance to react, Kittie steps forward, ready to pounce.
Kittie: What the FUCK are you doing here?! You have a death wish, don’t you?!
Electra: Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t. I didn’t want it to come down to this, but Rage gave me no choice.
Rage: Like hell I didn’t, Electra. I gave you the ONLY choice in the fucking matter. I gave you your last fucking warning last week and now? You’re fucking--
Electra: Not until you hear what I have to say!
Electra turns to Kittie.
Electra: Kittie, please. He somehow listens to you. Just get him to talk to me alone for a few minutes because this is important. Please.
Rage rolls his eyes and turns around, frustrated. Kittie takes a step forward, glaring at Rage’s ex-girlfriend and she shakes her head.
Kittie: No. Whatever you have to say to him, you can say it in front of me, too.
Electra: Look, no offense, but that’s not an option. This is between Rage and I right now and--
Kittie then holds her left hand up, revealing the shiny new engagement ring on her finger. And while Electra knew Rage had bought a ring, she was surprised to find out that he actually went through with the proposal and that Kittie had apparently accepted.
Kittie: This ring on my finger now says that I’m in on this now, so whatever you have to say...Now is your fucking chance.
Rage: Kittie, I don’t want--
Kittie: Shut up, Rage! I’m fucking sick of her and this whole stalker shit she has going on. You don’t want to hear whatever she has to tell you, but I do. So, go ahead Electra. Say whatever it is that you’ve been wanting to say.
Electra takes in a deep breath and turns her attention to Rage. He’s shaking his head, but he’s now facing both of them and looking directly at Electra, but he’s not at all happy. When Electra realizes this is the only way, she finally reaches into her pocket and pulls out a photograph and holds it out to Rage.
Electra: This isn’t about me, Rage. This has always been about her.
Rage snatches the photograph out of Electra’s hand and looks down at it. He recognizes the little girl in the photograph, as does Kittie.
Rage: Your niece? What the fuck about her?!
Electra shakes her head.
Electra: I know you ran into her and my brother a few months ago. He called me freaking out after it happened.
Rage: Fucking hell. If your brother is worried that I’m gonna go near his kid--
Electra: She’s not my niece, Rage. She’s...she’s my daughter.
Rage’s eyes widen for a brief moment, but he passes the photograph of the girl back to Electra. The expression on Kittie’s face falls as she seems to realize something. Something that Rage hasn’t quite grasped.
Rage: Well congratulations. I guess some unlucky son of a bitch actually made the mistake of knocking you up. What the fuck does that have to do with me?!
Electra looks at Kittie for a moment, but Kittie just has her eyes closed, shaking her head, and Electra looks back to Rage.
Electra: She’s not just my daughter, Rage. She’s YOUR daughter. You’re Ember’s father.
Rage’s expression falls, and he begins shaking his head. He starts backing up towards the door, refusing to believe what Electra has just told him.
Electra: Now do you see? NOW can we talk alone for a little bit so I can expl--
Rage snarls at her and points a finger at her.
Rage: Fuck...You! Stay the fuck away from me! That’s not my kid!
Electra: Rage, she’s your--
Rage: FUCK YOU!
Rage quickly turns and storms out of the room, not wanting to hear another word. Electra and Kittie stare at the door for a moment and when Electra prepares to chase after Rage, Kittie steps in front of her and stops her.
Kittie: You’re going to leave him the fuck alone right now, got it? You want to explain...Explain it to me.
Electra laughs, but as she stares at Kittie’s face, she knows Rage’s future wife is serious. And the only way to get through to Rage...may be through Kittie.
So...here I am. Just two days away from my next title defense, where I find myself in yet another fucking triple threat match. And, ya know, I’ve had a few people here and there ask me that stupid ass question, “So...are ya nervous now?”
HA! Me? Nervous? Fuck that! If I’m honest, I think if I was going to be nervous for any fucking match, it would have been in title defense at Into The Void V when I was going up against Dmitri again. Casey Williams was a non-issue, because I knew there was no way he would walk out of that match with the win. But Dmitri already proved he could beat me, even though that was a one time fluke occurance because I was off my game that night. But that’s not my fucking point.
My point is, tell me why the fuck I would even be the SLIGHTEST bit nervous going up against guys the likes of Steve Ramone and Kain. ESPECIALLY Kain!
Kain, I know you’re out there somewhere watching this, listening to my every word and that’s good. I seriously fucking hope you are, because you, Mr. King of Kings, are about to be ripped to fucking shreds and I’m going to enjoy every damn thing I’m about to say to you. You talk a big fucking game every time you pop back up here in SCW and it’s high time someone beats you down off that fucking pedastal you built for yourself, because ya don’t deserve to fucking be there.
Kain, you really and I mean REALLY need to give up the whole “King of Kings” bullshit, because you’ve done nothing to live up to that fucking name. Especially lately! You want to be known as a fucking King? Prove it and win a fucking match and don’t blame the damn loss on someone else, because regardless of the damn circumstances, you still have the loss on your record. So, fucking live up to it and shut your annoying mouth for once in your fucking life! I’m so sick of this holier than thou bullshit attitude you got and when it comes down to it, you don’t deliver!
Shit...and people call ME boring?! I had to force myself to sit through your weak ass promo last week. But you know what I won’t have to force myself to do?
Beat your ass. Because that’s going to be very...very…VERY easy for me. And enjoyable.
You want to sit there and spew out all those insults and shit at me? Wait...hang on...they weren’t even really insults, because I’ve never denied being an asshole, so nice fucking try there, dumbass. You can try and use your words against me. Use every fucking lame ass insult you got, Kain, because in the end, it doesn’t mean shit to me. I can be an asshole, Kain, but you? You’re just a fucking dick, and everybody knows it. And I’d rather be known as an asshole than a dick. And, yes, there is a difference.
Here’s what’s going to happen, Kain. I’m going to lay it out for you real fucking clear, because right now? At this very moment, I’m throwing money down on the table betting on the fact that the events that will happen after Summer XXXTreme IV will happen EXACTLY as I’m about to tell you.
First, I’m going to walk down to that ring, real fucking calm. Am I speaking slow enough for you? No? I don’t fucking care. Just fucking listen. So I’m going to walk to that ring real fucking calm with the Internet Championship belt around MY waist, because I’m the fucking champion for a damn reason, understand? You don’t just walk back into this company after nine fucking months and expect people to consider you worth any fucking title just because you’re a damn hall of famer or grandslam winner. The second you walk out of the doors for one bullshit reason or another makes all that shit fucking worthless and undeserved, but hey, that’s probably just my opinion.
So, after I step into that ring and give Steve Ramone a warning glare first, I’m gonna look right at you, and all fucking bets are off. I’ll hand my title off to the referee, whoever the fuck it is. Drew, Jasmine, Jacob or even Holly...I’ll hand it off to them and tell them to ring that fucking bell because once they do? I’m gunning straight for you, dickhead. Steve will get what’s coming to him, don’t you fucking worry about that, but you? I’m taking you out of this fucking match before it really even gets started, because as I’ve said before and I’ll say it again. You...DO NOT...deserve...this...shot! Ya fucking lost three straight matches and somehow you still…STILL think you deserve this shot! You must have blown one of the match makers, because that’s really the ONLY way that makes sense of you getting put in this fucking match.
I’m done playing games with you, Kain. I’m FINISHED listening to you run your mouth week after week trying to be all intimidating and acting like you own the fucking place. Newsflash for ya, Kain...You don’t own shit! And you definately won’t own a fucking title after Summer XXXTreme IV. No, after I beat your ass and toss your ass straight back to the end of the line where you fucking belong, I have a little prediction on something I see happening. You see...we all know what happens when big important matches don’t go your way, Kain. Don’t try to fucking deny it, but we’ve all see it happen time after fucking time.
You fucking walk out the doors like a pussy bitch, but ya claim to use **air quotes** personal reasons as an excuse every fucking time. That gonna be your excuse this time, Kain? Because that’s exactly what I see happening. No matter what you think or what you say, you don’t stand a fucking chance at walking out with MY title. And not only that, this WILL BE your fourth straight loss.
Stings, doesn’t it?
I know it’s gonna happen. I know you’re gonna fucking cry off like the bitch that YOU are, because it’s all a fucking pattern with you. You don’t mean shit in SCW, Kain. You might think you ever have, but sore losers like you earn a reputation, and you’ll never be able to get rid of that fucking reputation, Kain. And, it brings a sick smile to my face knowing that this time, I’ll have a hand in making you disappear again. This time hopefully for good. If you know what’s good for you, Kain, when you fucking walk out next time, you won’t EVER come back, because your bullshit is getting real old. But, I’ll let you think about all that for the next couple of days, Kain, because I think I’ve spent more than enough time focusing on you, when there is another prick in this match that needs a dose of reality.
I’m talking to you, Steve.
For the past month, I think you’ve been an even bigger thorn in my side that Kain fucking has been, and it’s all going to end on Sunday. But, it’s not going to end the way you want it to, Steve. You’re not going to luck out like you did with the Roulette Championship, because there’s no fucking way I’m letting YOU walk out as the new Internet Champion. Not a fucking chance.
You like to run your mouth, Steve. You can dish out every bit of bullshit you feel like, but when the same shit happens to you, you fucking cry foul. The last couple of weeks you’ve done nothing but bitch and moan about your nasty slut and what Kittie did, or in this case DIDN’T do to her. Get the fuck over it, Steve. Your slut wants to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong, she WILL suffer the consequences. Don’t sit there and try and compare it to whatever the fuck you did to Jessie Salco’s boyfriend or brother or whoever the fuck it was last year.
So the slut has a sore neck, supposedly from that headlock? HA! You honestly expect people to believe that shit? Why don’t you tell her to stop sucking so much dick or being such nasty whore, and maybe that neck of her’s wouldn’t be so fucking sore, because trust me...Kittie isn’t at fault for this one.
You know what else, Steve? If you’re smart, and if you know what is good for you and your goon squad, you’ll make sure to keep dipshit one and two and your porn star whore backstage, because if they try and interfere to help you out, there’s gonna be a huge problem, but I suspect you’d cry foul to that, too, because of Synn and Kittie, right?
You see, there’s a difference with me and you, Steve. The two people who accompany me to the ring have never and will never interfere to help me win a fucking match. What they WILL do, however, is interfere to stop other assholes from sticking their noses where they don’t belong! I’m more the fucking capable of winning a match cleanly, and this Sunday will be no different. Make no mistake about it.
This is your last chance, Steve. This is your ONLY chance. Whether you’re the one pinned or not, you’re not getting another shot at my title, Steve. You can go back to the Roulette Division or go to directing your sluts next movie for all I care, but the Internet Championship? It’s staying with me. Plain and fucking simple.
Four “challengers” have already been defeated. This Sunday at Summer XXXTreme? Two more will be added to that list. And you know what? It’s high fucking time they give me a real fucking challenger and not someone who just THINKS they deserve it or someone who fucking demands it.
But, then again, there really isn’t anyone in SCW who actually deserves it, is there?
Either way, one by one...they’ll all fucking fall to The Sin Of Wrath.
See you Sunday fuckers!