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#97rulez — Today at 4:26 PM
Can’t wait for War Games! New champ will be crowned!
The Best Mark — Today at 4:27 PM
Screw Conor Fuse! Best Team Forever!
Wrestling Junkie — Today at 4:27 PM
Conor might be the worst fucking drafter of all time holy fuck
DaBears — Today at 4:28 PM
Hope he doesn’t draft like that in fantasy football LOL
Cawks — Today at 4:28 PM
David Noble is going to mop the floor with the stupid video game guy
[emoji reaction: thumbs up] [emoji reaction: 100]
LT’s Pappa — Today at 4:29 PM
Jace > Conor
JohnnyPunchline6969 — Today at 4:29 PM
Tyler Best will be the next champion!!!
[emoji reaction: face full of hearts]
FANofHOW — Today at 4:30 PM
I watched Refueled XCVII again, Lee fucking buries Conor! You love to see it!
Celtic #1 From Japan — Today at 4:31 PM
Fuse is in the mud!!!111 Rejoice!
[emoji reaction: laughing]
[replying to Celtic #1]
Troll 101 — Today at 4:33 PM
cOnOr worst #97 since Cancer Jiles!
Definitely Not a Burner Account — Today at 4:34 PM
Scott Stevens LFGGGGGGGGG
— — — — —
THEN
Rumble at the Rock
Post Match, Mike Best def. Conor Fuse for the World Championship
San Francisco Bay, CA
October 30, 2021 – 23:59
Pulling myself from the canvas felt like it took hours. The cameras are off, the rightful champion has taken his belt and gone home. I’m left in the center of the ring picking up the pieces. I tried to get cute, I wanted to make a statement. Weapon Get the knee. Teach the legendary champion a thing or two and show him I’m as able as he is. Like he said… I’m the future.
Guess he was right. I ain’t the present.
I lean on the ropes for support and stare into the distance. It’s blurry. If there was a crowd, would they have waited all this time? Doubtful. They love the SON.
It all came together so fast. One minute, I’m simply hoping to survive a couple of challengers in a War Games match, the next I’m being asked to take down the best wrestler in history. But one thing is certain…
I refuse to go back to that state of mind.
No. I held my own against Mike. Fell short, but held my own. I will no longer be okay with being in the middle of the pack. Second place isn’t good enough. I want the gold trophy, the #97. I’m not playing for fun anymore. Win a few levels, congratulate myself and move on. Not gonna work.
I drop to my knees and roll outta the ring. It’s a slow walk down the rooftop stairs and through the narrow corridors zig-zagging their way to the emergency exit.
And there I see him, waiting at the doorway. He turns to notice me, as if he didn’t hear me coming. His eyes light up, a coy smile crosses his face. His arms open, he’s willing to welcome me in for a big hug.
“Tough loss, buddy, real close one,” New-Age Conor says, his beady little eyes bouncing around with delight. I’m halfway to him by now. “Maybe I can help you find a new edge? An edge you’ll never have to lose…”
I rush right on by, pushing the emergency door so it slams against the side of the wall. A storm has begun. Rain starts to trickle, thunder cackles in the distance.
“Fuck off.”
And I walk out of the building.
I don’t need him.
“Who were you talking to?” I finally come to a stop and realize my brother Tyler has been waiting in the parking lot. I remember how he helped me earlier in the night.
Turning to look behind, nobody’s there.
“Nothing,” I reply to Tyler. “Just talking to myself.”
He’s not one for social support but he gives me an empathetic hand gesture.
“You’re in no shape to drive, I got a rental,” he explains, showing the vehicle while rain continues to pour. “Hop in.”
I give one last glance at the exit door… which still swings openly given the wind and rain swirling around. NAC’s long gone.
Good. He can stay fucked off.
In fact, everyone can.
*************************************************************************************************************
We interrupt this story for a brief message…
Name: Jace Parker Davidson \ Status: Foe
Jace, no hard feelings bud after you chose The Board over Simon and I, it’s cool. No worries about ripping on my draft pick abilities, either. I didn’t select David Noble, so I should eat a ton of shit for it. Looking back on my decision, it was a strange call. Perhaps as strange as Mike Best not drafting you to his team before the tiny dick powerlifter. That’s gotta be awkward… if you had a brain to process this information. But gosh, here I am, conversing with a guy who seemingly forgot I wrestled in his namesake against Scott Stevens while he was on the shelf. It’s fine though, I’m not really bitter. I mean this. Because our opposite alliances allow a closed door to be reopened. In December you and I were meant to have our long awaited singles match against each other. We tend to have similar wrestling styles and we were going to see who the better man was. Obviously the match did not happen, I won the World Championship and our true contest is still outstanding. This won’t stop me from popping you across that smug looking face of yours, though. Sounds peachy to me. By the way, you’re the simp of the Best Team. You know this, right? Just as long as you’re cool with being disposable. I know Simon and I would have never treated you with a lack of class. There was no hierarchy in the AoA.
*************************************************************************************************************
THEN
High Octane Asylum (HOA)
Dream Sequence
December 26, 2021 – 02:00
I usually try to visit once a week.
It’s nice to keep appearances. When you’re a guy like me, who lives and dies off your opponents, it’s vital to remember everyone on your hit list. I prefer the term Rogues’ Gallery but you gotta freshen up the language a little. What does Superman call his baddies?
Regardless, I’ve walked these halls before. You’ll remember if you follow my stories. The High Octane Asylum, home to all of Conor Fuse’s top level villains. The ultimate bosses for the ultimate gamer. It’s a dark lit hallway, only a few red lights at the top of the corridor. The bulbs haven’t been replaced in years, they flicker on and off at various times. To my right and left there are holding cells, complete with triple pad-locked doors. Honestly, some of the doors are padlocked so many times I didn’t count. 64-bit renderings of each inmate hang over the top of their nameplate. It’s a bit tacky and sometimes I think the pictures are off. For example, when I pass by BYRD, his cowboy hat looks like shit. I put in the request weeks ago for 16-bit renderings but obviously nothing has changed.
Once again, I see some names I don’t recognize. It’s a calming experience. Means I’m nowhere near done playing this game.
Then there are the common folk.
The weightlifter merely looks up from his sixty-seven-thousandth wrist curl on a dumbbell weighted for 97lbs, before going for wrist curl sixty-seven-thousand-and-one.
The milkman takes another swig of his 3.5% before thumbing me down.
The patriot stands at his window, head raised, eyes closed, reciting the national anthem with a bald eagle on his shoulder.
The goon plays mini stick hockey and celebrates after scoring a goal on an empty net.
Whatever. I continue on route.
The guard leads me further down the hall. A former friend scoffs at me, his snake-eyed tongue sliding out of his mouth. I even walk by a room completely illuminated in magenta. It’s fucking painstaking. However, finally, I reach the intended location.
“Here we are…” the guard states, turning to me and allowing myself the space to cautiously approach.
I look at the 64-bit pic. They did a good job. I peer into the two way glass and I see him in the far corner, facing away. The guard tells me he hasn’t moved from this position since the last time I visited and the time before that, etc, etc.
The nameplate reads: NEW AGE FUSE
I inquire if I’m allowed to open the door. Unlike the others, this one isn’t padlocked.
“Sure,” the guard responds and motions his head towards NAC. “He’s you, right?”
I nod, somewhat unsure. “I mean yeah… I guess. I’m kinda a fucked up guy.”
The guard looks around the Asylum and laughs. “You’d have to be if you dream this up.”
I open the door carefully, as if not to piss him off. But he hears me. And he never moves. He stands in the corner, swaying slightly from left to right.
“New Age Me,” I begin. “It’s good to see you again.”
I await a response. I don’t receive anything.
“Listen, I have another World Championship opportunity coming up and I can’t lose. I need to win #97 back.”
Again, nothing.
“You wanna know my opponent?”
Finally, NAC methodically cocks his head. His eyes find where I am in the room but there’s no life to them.
“I have Clay Byrd in the first round.”
Every time I visit, I tell him who my opponent is but it doesn’t matter. His eyes are on me but they don’t see me. They’re dull, the pupils are narrow. And eventually he turns his head into the corner.
“Alright, another time then,” I announce before exiting the holding chamber.
“Nothing?” The guard questions.
“Nothing.”
And out of the HOA I go.
*************************************************************************************************************
Name: Clay Byrd \ Status: Wimp
I’m not sure what to tell you, Clay. I have tried to put aside our differences but your pigshit brain can’t get past the fact I beat you for the World Championship. Despite me literally telling you the following words: “if we win War Games I will give you a rematch”, you continue to double down on your own piss poor attitude and not play a role on this team. No wonder why I want nothing to do with friends anymore. I said I’d look past your blindsiding attack on me at ICONIC if you could even begin to understand I had nothing to do with The Board getting in our way. Whatever. I don’t know what you’ve got going on with your Highwaymen and honestly, I don’t give a fuck, either. You have a long way to go before becoming the playable character in High Octane. Because the main player of this game shows up week in and week out and takes what’s coming to him. Continue to show up when you want. Choose whatever attitude suits you best. You’re right on one thing, though. Actions speak louder than words. You want me to prove I’ve got your back on Sunday? Why is this responsibility only on me? I’m talented enough to look out for both of us. If by any means you make it to the end, Clay, I’ll be stunned. Until you learn to be responsible for your own shortcomings, I think I have a deadbeat partner. Enjoy never winning the big one.
*************************************************************************************************************
NOW
High Octane Asylum (HOA)
Dream Sequence
June 1, 2022 – 02:00
I return to NAC’s dungeon. Nothing has changed. He remains standing in the far right corner of the room, facing the wall. Does he ever sleep, I wonder. I suppose when I told him to “fuck off”, I really meant it. No amount of begging or pleading has brought him back. I’ve told him my opponents, he’s disinterested. I’ve explained my new found confidence and attitude, nadda. The guards wonder why I try every week. I could visit other cell blocks, they say. Everyone is riled up to face me now. War Games is on the horizon. I tell the guards there’s a time and a place for everything. I intend to speak to David Noble. I have lots to get off my chest towards Jace Parker Davidson but I want NAC’s attention.
“NAC,” the guard declares as he opens the door. “Conor is here to see you. Again.”
I wander in, a little deeper than before. The room is empty, he doesn’t have a bed.
“Hi NAC…” I start off peacefully. “Sutler had to go to a very dark place to win War Games. I have to go to this place, too. I’m better than SRK, he doesn’t even reside in this building anymore. It sucks. I thought he was going to be the person I’d do battle with forever.”
I chuckle as I glance around the vacant brick walls.
“Everyone needs that one guy, you know? The one person who ups the stakes. Obvious examples are Batman-Joker, Superman-Luthor,” I gesture towards the entire building. “All the inmates housed here still matter… but there’s a vacant room at the end of this hallway for one special soul. Sutler used to take its space. Then I thought… Mike Best could.”
I let out an awkward laugh.
“In Mike’s asylum, I would be a mere footnote…” My voice drifts. “Plus, he retired.”
There was even the opportunity for Florida Man to take residency until a few days ago.
I reach into my front pocket and pull out a folded sheet of paper.
“Well a few things have happened to me recently, NAC. I’m not sure if you’re aware.” I begin to unwrinkle the paper. It’s a mugshot of someone. “Lee returned. Ya know, good ol’ Big Boss. And get this… he fucking noticed me this time.”
While New Age may have his head cocked over, looking at me with dead eyes, I can’t help but sport a wicked smile on my face.
“Fans think I’m in trouble. Lee believes he’s torn me a new asshole. The people expect Conor Fuse is vulnerable. Naa man, naa. This is exactly what I want. See, this time I’m Lindsay Troy going against the boss. And I’m better than that stunned cunt, let’s be real. I’m sharper than Teddy Palmer. MOAR devoted than Clay Byrd. For fuck sakes, I’m the most lovable, awesome, purest good guy in the world…”
I run my left hand across the mugshot to make sure it’s as flat as possible before holding it up.
“His name is Tyler Adrian. He’s just a kid. Even younger than Sutler. But here’s the catch…”
I lean forward. I still don’t get too close. Once these words leave my mouth, I feel a chill run down the spine of the HOA.
“He’s a Best…”
And for the first time in months, New Age Conor’s eyes flicker, a tiny little bit. His eyes examine the mugshot.
“You know he’s gonna live up to his family name. You know he’s gonna be decent.”
NAC’s eyes continue to fixate on the picture. His demeanor has never changed but I know I’ve got his attention now.
“Tyler could be the answer. The answer for me, for you, for our newfound relationship. I don’t gotta be the biggest boy scout in the world…” I say with a wink in his direction. “Because that didn’t get me back #97 and it certainly isn’t the reason I keep it…”
His eyes haven’t left the picture.
“What do ya say?”
No reply.
“He’s out last, too. Of course grandpa gave him the best slot. How original.”
Not to upset NAC, I slowly fold the sheet of paper and slip the image of Tyler Best into my pocket.
“You think about it and let me know…”
Once I reach the exit door, I take the handle but the door is stuck. It takes me a moment to realize NAC’s right behind me. My evil subconscious sports a wide, white-toothy grin, looking into my eyes.
“When do we start?”
*************************************************************************************************************
Name: Tyler Best \ Status: Foe
Every time I see the name Tyler I think of my angry, disgruntled, older brother. Then I see your family name and a part of me doesn’t want to bother. It’s like I know what to expect from you already. Can you run your mouth? Goes without saying. I’m not gonna be able to keep up with you. And yeah, I’m well aware of what your daddy did to me. Real swell stuff, glad you were watching, hope it was entertaining. Now let ME welcome YOU to real fucking life, kid. ‘Cause your dad can tell you “people die here” but perhaps I’ll be able to show you more clearly. Beyond my love for video games and all those nifty little jabs you like to throw out at my expense, you realize I’m the mother fucking guy, right? And while pappa may have one-upped me in Alcatraz, I stuffed his face full of whatever ‘outta shit’ he had left when the SON limped into ICONIC and got the sads because his best friend beat him in half a minute. Then I crushed his BFF. The more I hear you talk, Tyler, the more I just wanna ignore you. In fact, you remind me less about your father and more about another family relative. You may have heard the name Sutler Reynolds-Kael? He was here for a hot minute, then I pounded his fucking skull in, Weapon Got his daddy’s quaint little finisher and showed him where to RAGEQUIT. I’ve taken your pop’s knee. It’s a nice knee. And I have the ability to download it immediately. Your father once told me everyone WILL let you down. I’m here to tell you if you aren’t like some of the other outspoken pigs who waltz in thinking they are entitled to a shot at High Octane’s last levels, I will not let you down and we can do this many times over. I’ve never backed away from a challenge. So as long as you hold a sliver of your father’s abilities, maybe I’ll welcome you with open arms. You’ve certainly piqued my interest.
*************************************************************************************************************
Eggslut
Chicago, IL
June 1, 2022 – 09:26
“So, a few ground rules…” I demand.
“No. No ground rules.”
“Hey, hold on, don’t get me wrong, NAC,” I rebut, perhaps I’ve already put him on edge. “I’m a different guy than before. I’m willing to… ya know… get my hands messy.”
New-Age Conor tilts his head to the ceiling and rolls his eyes. The two of us sit in Eggslut, having finished our breakfast. Well, I finished my breakfast. NAC watched me eat.
“Listen, dude,” I continue. “I brass knuckled that wiry fucker Cecilworth… totally allowed my boys to cheat Jeffrey James Roberts outta the World Title…”
I pause and giggle.
“Then again, maybe he was gonna cheat, too…”
Back to my preamble.
“I got so pissed at David Noble I hit the guy with a low blow and then claimed I knew nothing about it, LOL.”
New-Age Conor doesn’t seem impressed. He sits there, across from me, deadpan.
“Great. So this is edgy Conor Fuse?”
I nod with vigor. “Yeah man, aren’t I awesome?”
Again, he’s deadpan.
“Conor, buddy, you know I love ya, and I’ve been trying to give you a MUCH added edge for a solid year now but those are baby steps…” NAC gives his head a crack. “Mike Best murdered people.”
My hands go up. “I don’t wanna murder anybody. It’s too far.”
“I never said you had to…”
I search my brain for some examples NAC would be proud of. “I don’t really have friends anymore. I mean there’s Simon, sure. Then Bobbie. Maybe Zion. Hmmmm that’s three friends already. But I tossed David Noble to the side.”
New-Age gives a slight nod of approval.
“Do you want me to get rid of Zion? Sparrow? Carey? Look, the bottom line is I gotta keep this title. I would become a mother fucking legend if I walked in and out of War Games with this.” I hold up #97. A few people inside Eggslut take notice. “Mike Best hasn’t even accomplished this feat.”
“Here’s what I want, Conor…” NAC has a way of not getting sucked into my bullshit. “I have provided you consistent messaging. Be selfish. Take. Look out for you. If it means step on someone else, please, by all accounts, do it. Does that make you a bad guy? I believe you said it yourself before facing David Noble. Do you care anymore? You shouldn’t. I represent an older version of you, an older and SUCCESSFUL version of you who would go as far as it took to ensure my name as one of the greats.”
NAC looks around the restaurant. Then he stares at my title.
“Would you kill a guy for the title?”
“I wouldn’t want to, no…”
NAC shakes his head.
“It’s not a matter of want. If you had only two options, kill someone or relinquish the belt, what would you do?” New-Age continues before I can decide. “The real greats go beyond. You’ve taken some solid steps. Passing over your former friend David Noble. Whatever excuses you had to tell yourself to hate him…”
“They weren’t excuses.”
“Sure they weren’t,” New-Age winks sarcastically. “My point is, this is your fucking result. #97red. Nothing else matters.”
NAC points to my championship.
“Who gives a flying fuck if you kicked Noble in the balls or didn’t? The record books don’t show why or how. They simply show ONE thing…”
He takes a long pause and displays that toothy-white grin.
“Who.”
“Conor Fuse,” I reply to a statement which likely didn’t need an answer.
“You’re god damn right, Conor Fuse,” New-Age adds.
Another lingering pause follows.
“Three years later and does anyone care about the depths Mike took against Max? They cheered him over Clay Byrd and Clay had a legitimate gripe.” My subconscious beckons. “When I ask ‘would you kill a guy?’ the chances are slim to none you’ll ever be placed in this position. The point I’m making is… only when you accept all outcomes will your outcome be possible.”
His eyes glisten in the light.
“Conor Fuse, Ultimate Gamer, War Game winner, survivor, still World Champion and absolutely impossible to bring down.”
I like the sound of that.
“I came to you, didn’t I?” I ask of the evil voice in my head. “This tells me I’m ready to go to whatever length is needed. End David’s career? Not gonna give it a second thought. I’ll do it. Stab Zion in the back? Christ, he’d do it to me if he could. I’ll play nice, too. I’ll do what you do. I’ll lure the pigfuckers in. Whatever it takes.”
“Whatever it takes,” New-Age restates. “It’s nice to hear.”
I survey the room again. Everyone’s doing their own thing.
“Am I talking out loud for both of us?” I ask NAC.
He winks and attempts to take a sip of my orange juice.
“Na man, you’re good. I only speak inside your head.” He confirms. “And you’re talking quietly enough. Besides, pretty sure nobody’s gonna fuck with the dude who’s having a Wednesday morning conversation with himself at Eggslut.”
“Good point.”
New-Age rolls his shoulders and loosens his neck.
“I want you to go all-in, Conor,” he states. “Embrace everything about yourself that makes you unique.”
I nod along. Sounds easy enough.
“Great. Let’s talk about match specifics, too…”
NAC and I converse into the afternoon.