Exit Conference

Refueled 8.

What’s left of it.

The fire is out.

All are gone.

Except the three left behind.

Debris is everywhere.

It’s dark.

It’s miserable.

Amongst all of it, the…

Beaten,

Battered,

Tattered,

Bloodied,

Defeated,

Outsmarted,

Bested,

Wooded,

Buried,

…egg bandits lay.

Jiles: Uh… did we win?

Dean: It doesn’t feel like it.

Jiles: But…

Doozer: Don’t even start.

A pause.

Jiles: Well then. There is one good thing. A deal has been undone. Gentleman, pardon me while I once again protect myself from the blinding rays of High Octane’s Mongoloidian lights.

With renewed vigor, Jiles shoots his mangled hand high into the sky, breaking through the debris and rubble of Refueled 8.

A whistling can be heard.

It grows louder until.

Clang.

Like a straight line between two dots, the Skynet T-shades whoosh through the air and into Jiles open and bloodied palm.

Jiles: That’s better. Well, it was a good run. Hold your heads up high. At least this time it took half the roster to bury us and we didn’t have to take care of it ourselves.

Dean: So…that’s it?

Jiles: What do you mean?

Doozer: He means after literally and figuratively being buried by half the roster, what now?

Jiles: Oh. I suppose there’s always Plan C?

Doozer: No.

Jiles: Yes.

Dean: No.

Jiles: Yes.

Doozer: You can’t. 

Dean: He’s right. You can’t. You know. Ya know.

Jiles: Guys. The rocks are on top of us, that’s how low we are. If we are going out, I’ll be damned if it’s as COOL Cool Jiles.

Doozer: Don’t do it.

Dean: Please, I was just starting to have fun again. 

Jiles: You call this fun? This is what we get? We are the egg bandits not the elevator bandits. I’m doing it. I don’t care. I got my shades back. We are scorned. We have nothing left to lose. Plus, OCW is waiting to welcome us with open arms.

Doozer: OCW closed. 

Jiles: Oh. When did that happen…

Doozer: A couple of days ago. 

Dean: Come on you guys, we can bounce back from this. Soon, the stage crew or firefighters will come and save us. There’s no way they just leave us here. I’m Beautiful for Christ’s sake!

Jiles: I guess we will know when we hear the forklift. 

Doozer: Hopefully that doesn’t run us over, too.

No laughter.

Dean: Say, how hurt are you guys? I haven’t been able to move for a little while now and I’m getting a tad concerned. I think there’s a nail in my foot.

Dooze: Same. About the nail, I have one in my foot, too. That or it’s on fire.

Jiles: Yeah, can’t say I’m really feeling it. My body that is. I think both of my palms are really fucked up. Those guys sure did a number on us. Good thing we should have plenty of time to heal since we don’t have to concern ourselves anymore.

Dooze: Uh… 

Dean: Don’t you?

Dooze: Yeah. 

Jiles: Oh, shit. So much for three days.

Dooze: You think he’ll reschedule? We did get him an ascot.

Jiles: New number, who dis?

Dooze: You fucker.

Jiles: Look on the bright side, it’s a good thing Handson didn’t pin you and then the whole roster ran a train on you and left you for dead, huh Dooze? Momentum is on your side! Main Event! Don’t let us down!

No response.

A few minutes of dead air.

Bobby sneaks in a quick nap.

Jiles’ arm remains extended through the debris with his prized T-shades in his grasp. He’s using the mirror tint to see if his hair sustained any damage during the vicious, vile and completely unnecessary attack.

Doozer: Hey, maybe he will agree to a gentleman’s game? Russian Roulette perhaps?

Jiles: Pretty sure we are dead already, and cheaters never prosper, remember Dooze?

A wild, unbridled scream.

More time passes.

Dean: Hey, did one of you guys fart? It stinks here. The blood has finally stopped flowing out of my nose and I can smell again. 

Jiles: Check the apron. Could be Dane’s shitmark from all the way back.

Dean: Oh god it is that bastard!

Jiles: That’s some next level last laugh shit.

And so was that.

——————

The hospital.

All three bandits lay in hospital beds in the same room.

A bargain.

Machines go beep.

Medical IV’s go drip, drip, drip.

Wounds have been bandaged and redressed. 

Staples.

Stitches.

You name it, their faces and bodies got it.

Matter of fact, Jiles is undergoing surgery for a head wound in a little bit.

Cosmetic.

Black. Blue. Yup, all three of them. Looks like Jiles and Doozer are wearing black and blue bitch chokers from the wire strangulation they suffered at the hands of The Dying Breed. Bobby’s back is black and blue from the powerbomb through the announce table. Part of it anyway. His back roll absorbed some of the blow.

Jiles: I still can’t believe it… oh well, got to give it to them. I have no doubt they will be able to carry on the legacy and tradition we briefly established.

Dean: They are truly, an undying breed. But hey, at least we won’t be the ones losing the titles to Ground Zero now.

Jiles: That’s what I love about you Bobbo, always looking at the bright side.

Doozer: Will you two shut the fuck up already?

Jiles and Dean laugh. They are on all sorts of pain medication and have been going back and forth with each for the past few hours.

Dooze, who has not slept well since bunking with the bandits went live, is more tired than angry.

That’s not to say he isn’t angry though.

Jiles: So if I weren’t high enough already, we get a handicapped match after getting trounced and trounced again? And it’s in Atlanta? And it’s a new dash returning show called Chaos?

Dean: Somebody has to take the pin, and honestly, no one takes it better than the Bandits.

Jiles: Don’t worry pal, they don’t call me Magneto for nothing. Still, look at us. We are in the  hospital doing hospital things. I don’t even know what’s wrong with me that’s how wamboozled I am. Oh well. Beats getting pinned by Handson. 

Doozer: …

Flatline.

————-

Same hospital.

Days later.

Bandits still in the same room.

Jiles: Who is calling and telling HOW that we are sick and tired?

Dean: You’ve seen what happened last time I made a HOW call— definitely ain’t me.

Jiles: Dooze? You up for it? I would, but in an attempt to sell my numerous injuries I can not reach for the phone.

The Dooze tries to answer, but Jiles just speaks over him.

Jiles: OH WHATS THAT DOC? We need more popcorn to watch what happens from our hospital beds? Yes please!

The Doctor enters the room.

Doctor: You guys are all fucked. Good day.

The Doctor leaves.

Jiles: Well that was rude.

Dean: That doctor looked familiar.

Jiles: Hey, is this like that TV show? Like, are we dead, and our time spent in the hospital is purgatory? I haven’t seen Kostoff crawling around so I could be mistaken.

Dean: Have you tasted this food? Feels like hell to me.

Jiles: I thought we just left hell.

Doozer: HOW.

Dean: Same thing.

Plan C

The one you don’t fuck with.
Roleplay Countdown

RELATED BY

  • Exit Conference: Part 3

    Hello. Is it me you’re looking for? I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in your smile. …the feeling, is mu-tu-al. I won’t front. You...
  • OUT

    CRACKING NEWS. SAY IT AIN’T SO. Reports coming from inside the deepest depths of Camp Bandit are saying that barring a miracle, The Maestro of COOL, Cool Jiles, is...
  • Who will it be?

    BREAKING NEWS. With the possibility of Cool Jiles being out for the main event, High Octane Wrestling has announced that a random superstar will be selected as a witness...
  • Pig Headed

    The old guard is out.  The new guard is in. The roster has seemingly doubled overnight. The pressure to perform, and keep ahead of the pack, doubling right along...
X
X