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hesbuckcompton-baby · 14 days ago

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Damage Gets Done - SAS: Rogue Heroes x OC - Chapter 13

AO3

Summary: In the aftermath of a fateful night, Diana attempts to come to terms with the prospect of freedom

Relationships: L Detachment x Platonic!OC, Reg Seekings x OC

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, injury description

Word Count: 4.8k

Tags: @20th-centu-fairy-girl @6thofapril1917 @dcyllom @footprintsinthesxnd @regseekings @roseszirnheld @hellofanidea

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Morning came as an even ruder awakening than usual, sunlight streaming through the entrance to Diana's tent and hitting her square in the eyes as her face practically shrivelled at the intrusion. Groping blindly for her blanket, she tossed it off, pushing herself upright as a tired groan escaped her dry throat. She cringed to remember the night before - the chaos she'd left in Cairo, the belongings she'd inevitably have to return to collect from her father's house. But as she raised a hand to scoop her curls into their usual half-arsed attempt at a bun, she found herself groping at empty air.

Oh, that's right.

Her hair was cropped short beneath her ears, the result of quick, whispered work between her and Johnny, done by the light of a torch. He'd grinned when she handed him the scissors, that mischievous spark in his eye visible even in the dead of night. What was left of her curls had been swept unceremoniously beneath the sand, gone as if it had never existed, a physical purging of the emotional baggage she had disposed of back in Cairo.

Withers was lingering by her tent as Diana stepped outside, his nose to the ground as he attempted to dig some ants out of the sand. "C'mere beastie," She tutted, scooping the little dog up with one arm as he let out a confused whine, ear flapping backwards as he tilted his head up at her, eliciting a chuckle.

Jalo was still quiet, many still hiding from the brightening dawn. A breeze struck the back of her neck, its presence soothing and unfamiliar as she headed for the mess hall in search of something to eat. The dark room was mercifully cool as Diana clattered about one-handed, still holding Withers with one arm as she emptied the stray grains of sand that had gathered in the bottom of the kettle. Beginning to squirm, she let the dog go, but he didn't stray from her, lingering at her feet and hoping for a loose scrap of food.

"Mornin'" Kershaw's voice rang out behind her as he wandered in, not yet sparing her a glance as he went straight for the food.

"Hey," Diana hummed. "Making coffee, d'you want some?"

"Yeah, I- Fuckin' hell," He blurted, cutting himself off the moment he locked eyes on her.

"Oh, God, did Cooper fuck up the back?" She groaned, hand groping at the back of her head as she tried to feel for something terrible.

"No. No, it looks fine. Just... last night went well, then?"

Diana chuckled, rather more darkly than he had intended, a response which only made Dave's brow arch further in confusion. Her laughter trailed off awkwardly, offering a serious nod.

"Yes," She stated. His stare only grew more pointed. She sighed. "Look, I threatened a few people. Including my dad. But I didn't hurt anyone."

"Right."

"Oh, that's not true. I went to see Andrew in the hospital."

"The one who got-"

"The one who got shot, yeah. I sorta... stuck a finger in it."

"In what?"

"The bullet hole."

"Jesus Christ," He huffed, pinching his brow exhaustedly. Diana watched his reaction for a moment, bottom lip drawn between her teeth as she stood awkwardly.

"... So... Coffee?"

Dave stared at her.

"... Yeah."

"Alright."

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Diana squinted in the sun as she headed outside after breakfast, another cup of coffee in her hand as her heels sank into the sand slightly with each step. The desert didn't bother her today - not the way it usually seemed to. The warmth against her face was soothing, the taste of coffee on her tongue rejuvenating. Even the desert sore on her thigh didn't bother her as much. She was in a good mood - a genuinely good mood for the first time in what seemed like forever.

She may have only slept a couple of hours last night, but those hours had been peaceful, unburdened by nightmares. More and more over the past week she had found herself under the water again, feeling that hand against the back of her head as she fought for breath, waking up choking and drenched in sweat. It had been a much-needed reprieve.

"... Di?"

At the sound of Reg's voice, she turned to look at him, a friendly smile leaving creases in her cheeks. Her eyes were dark with exhaustion, but the smile was very real. Real enough to reassure him, and wonderful enough to knock the breath from his lungs.

"Hey!" She chirped, taking a few steps back up the sandy slope towards where he had paused mid-stride at the sight of her.

"Wh-" He paused slightly, searching for the right words. "... You-"

"Yeah, Johnny gave me a hand with it when I got back last night. Oh, and I made coffee - there's some left inside if you want some."

"Uh huh," Reg nodded, jaw hanging slightly slack. "... It looks nice."

"Oh, thanks," Diana grinned. "Yeah, I like it. It's... breezy," She shrugged.

He nodded again. Reg wasn't a fool - he didn't need to probe to figure out why she'd really done it. He'd seen her throw that painting over the balcony, that portrait of a woman that had never been her. Her hair had grown sun-bleached, curls tight and frizzy against the desert breeze. A small scar dipped in the centre of her forehead. She'd told him once she'd gotten it her first day in the SAS. She was branded as one of them, now more than ever.

"... You're alright though, yeah?" Reg grunted, passing his weight from foot to foot. His gaze darted from her to the sandy ground below, unable to meet her eye from the moment the question passed his lips, frightened as if the moment she looked back into him she would know everything that went unspoken with those words.

He heard her let out a huff, and without even looking he knew she was smiling.

"Yeah."

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Withers curled up on Diana's lap, snoozing in the afternoon sun as she lounged in one of the dusty old deck chairs, thumbing through one of Paddy's poetry books whilst the men played rugby nearby, scrambling and shouting and kicking up clouds of sand. An engine rumbled in the distance, growing steadily louder as whoever it was approached. She did not bother looking up - if anything had been amiss the men would've stopped playing by now.

The car fell silent, footsteps nearing, crunching against the sand. Diana turned the page, skimming over the next verse.

"Diana," Stirling's voice came, sweeter than usual in a way that made her frown.

She peered up at him over her sunglasses. "What."

"There's a dossier in my tent that we'll be needing for this afternoon's briefing."

"Well, that's nice."

"Can you get it while I assemble the men?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Have your legs stopped working?"

David rolled his eyes, leaning down closer. "If you go and get it now you can read the classified parts."

Diana's brow pinched with a frown, pouting slightly like a bribed child.

"... Fine."

With an irritated huff, she gently patted Withers awake, shooing the pup from her lap as she stood up. Shooting David a glare, she began to march up the dune towards the tents.

"Where will you be?" Diana called over her shoulder.

"Mess hall!" Stirling blurted before he could stop himself. Realising his plan was crumbling, he yelled again. "Actually no, I'll-!" But she was already too far away, and he cut himself off with an exasperated sigh. "Shit."

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A book hit the side of Stirling's tent with a muffled thud as Diana rummaged through his belongings, growing steadily more incensed with each second that passed without finding the files she had come for. "Fucking prick wants me to do all his fucking work, come find it yourself you fucker," She muttered, tossing his blanket onto the floor and condemning him to a bed full of sand. Still nothing.

"Fuck it," She scoffed, hands thrown up in irritation as she clambered back out of the tent, squinting momentarily in the sun's glare as she marched back towards the mess hall.

Storming up the slope, accidentally kicking sand into her boots as she went, Diana's cheery mood from that morning had all but vanished.

"Send me to fetch your fucking papers. I'm not your errand boy," She uttered to herself as she approached the entrance, brow furrowed in annoyance, far too absorbed in her own annoyance to notice what the men inside were saying.

"David, next time you want me to fetch you fucking files, at least-" Diana cut herself off with a squawk, rage sapped from her the moment she stepped through the door. "-Christ!"

Some of the men had been fast enough, hands flying downwards to cover their naked fronts the moment she had burst in yelling.

Most had not.

Something between a snort and a guffaw ripped free from her throat, doubling over as she scurried back out the door, leaving a room of red-faced men in her wake.

By the time the men began to reemerge, wincing and aching from their tended sores, Diana found to her amusement that they couldn't quite manage to meet her eye. The French shuffled awkwardly past, and the men that she had grown closest to over the last several months cringed to find that she was still lingering outside when they were freed from Doctor Gamal's toothbrush.

Almonds had been one of the lucky few to require no serious attention, still fumbling with the top button of his shirt as he paused on his way by. "How, uh-" He began, looking past her instead of at her. "What did you see?"

"Oh, everything."

"Christ," Jim sighed. "It just... feels like my little sister's walked in on me showering, yunno?"

"Yeah, well," Diana nodded, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "At least your penis is fine."

"... You saw Dave then."

"Oh, Jesus Christ, I'll never unsee it."

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Her trousers pooled around her ankles as she stood in her shirt and underwear, hands planted firmly on her hips as Doctor Gamal scraped away the infected flesh from the desert sore that had bloomed on the side of her thigh. Stirling was midway through the process of catching her up on the men's briefing, pausing as she let out a slight hiss of pain.

"... Are you sure you wouldn't rather wait until you're finished?" He asked tentatively.

"Waste of time. We can multi-task," Diana stated, eyes narrowing as another jolt of pain shot through her leg. "You managed to do the speech with thirty-odd dicks in your face, you can do it without my trousers, David. I believe in you."

"Right..." He glanced back at the map on the wall, doing a double-take back to her. "Have I already mentioned the submarine?"

"Yes, David."

"... Right."

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The beginnings of a cool evening breeze were blowing through Jalo as Diana made her way out to the jeeps, rifle slung over her shoulder, her thumb tracing across the familiar nicks and dents in the wooden stock. It hadn't been long since her last jolly, but her exile from the most recent run made her yearn for it as if it had been years, a morbid smile tugging at her lip at the sight of everyone ready to go, loaded up with bombs and guns and ready to wreak all manner of chaos.

"Oi," Kershaw called from the passenger seat as she passed by his jeep. Turning on her heel, Diana approached, propping her elbow against the door.

"Evenin'. So they've seen to your... issue, then," She nodded towards his crotch, earning a shove to the shoulder.

"Fuck off. Yes," He scoffed. "Yours?"

"All good," Diana affirmed. The padded dressing taped to her thigh felt awkward beneath her trousers, but it beat the alternative.

"Good, good. You with Stirling then?"

"Needs someone to tug his lead," She shrugged. There was something restrained in his nod of reply. "... Hey, you good?"

"Yeah, yeah," Kershaw nodded non-committally.

"... Still hurts doesn't it?"

"Oh, god, yeah," He laughed, wincing slightly as he shifted in his seat.

Diana offered a sympathetic smile, chuckling slightly as she pushed herself away from the jeep. "Alright. I gotta head over. See ya later."

"Oi! Watch your arse out there!" He called as she began to walk away.

"Only if you promise to shave that dead rat on your chin when I get back!"

Letting out a snort, Dave shook his head teasingly. "Nevermind - you don't have to come back."

She grinned, flipping him a middle finger. "Whatever."

Still smiling to herself as she walked away, Diana headed in Stirling's direction, where he was talking to his driver about something. Nudging his shoulder in acknowledgement as she passed, she clambered up into the back with a grunt, crouching beside Johnny, the pair bracketed by machine guns. Cooper gave a satisfied nod as he took a moment to peer at her hair, finally getting a good look in the daylight.

"Not too bad," He stated.

"You're multi-talented, dear," She smiled, their shoulders bumping against each other as the jeep swayed slightly as Stirling climbed in.

"How's the leg?" David asked.

"Looking for an excuse to remember me in my underwear, are we?" Diana teased, grin widening as she heard Johnny let out a snicker.

"I don't know why I bother."

"You don't really have any other friends."

The wind whistled past her ears as they streaked across the desert, the sky fading from blue to black as night fell upon the group, obscuring the horizon from view. Diana tugged at her scarf, pulling it up to her chin, short hair leaving her neck freshly exposed as a sharp chill rattled down her spine. Her thumbnail rubbed back and forth against the grooves in the wood of her rifle, tracing the spot where she'd scratched her initials into the butt as a girl.

D. F.

Even her father's cruelty had its limits. If he'd taken her name - branded her with his own - maybe she'd never have left. Maybe Diana Hannigan might have felt loved as something other than a weapon.

She didn't know her mother's name. It was so easy to fade into nothing, as if you'd never existed, never left so much as a footprint in the sand.

Diana was her footprint.

She always got too in-her-head on these long drives, swaying against the lurching of the jeep, gaze listless and unfixed. The lights of Benina were barely a speck in the distance as they rolled to a halt and she felt Johnny's elbow poke gently into her side, rousing her to attention. He raised a brow. She nodded.

"Plan," Diana prompted, digging her foot against the back of Stirling's seat.

"I have an idea," He announced, voice raised slightly so that the others could hear.

"Hm. Threatening."

"Tonight, we will be raising a little bedlam with our new toys."

Only half convinced that he hadn't started to crack, she let out a long, low hum, chuckling as Reg muttered an 'oh, fuck' from the next jeep.

For a moment, her excitement faltered, replaced by a low sinking of dread. She hadn't steeled herself for a fight - hadn't felt that rush of adrenaline - since the day she'd almost died, the day she'd realised she wasn't as good as she thought she was. If Diana focused hard enough, she could still feel the man's grip, her hair caught in his fist as he held her under, the water filling her mouth. These situations were nothing alike, but that didn't seem to matter to an exhausted mind.

It seemed little longer than a blink before they were rolling at full-speed toward Benina, although she knew that couldn't be the case. Her fists clenched around the rifle, knuckles whitening, finger hovering over the trigger. A pair of gloves would have been nice, the cold night air battering exposed skin, but the feeling of her palms against the gun calmed her. It was familiar and safe in her hands, a reminder of something she knew she could do, a means of defending herself that couldn't be taken away.

The rattle of gunfire was deafening, a sharp ringing in her ears as her senses were dulled to everything but the task at hand. Machine guns mowed down the crowds without discrimination - her work was more precise. With each tug of the bolt handle, empty cases shooting outwards, she picked off the stragglers one by one, taking out the lone men, too far from the groups to be worth hitting with a dozen rapid-fire bullets.

One shot would do just fine in her hands.

It didn't occur to her to care that they were already fleeing.

Something went ping against the side of the jeep, and before she knew it a sharp stinging sensation slashed across her upper arm, throwing off her focus. "Fuck!" Diana hissed, voice lost within the wall of noise as she glanced down at where the fabric of her shirt had frayed, a bullet fragment embedding itself in the skin as blood began to ooze from the wound. It was painful but shallow, and she raised her rifle again, closing her mind off to the throbbing as she pulled the trigger to fire. Again. Again. Again.

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The sunlight was almost blinding as Diana's eyes blinked slowly open, squinting uncomfortably in the glare. At some point during the drive back to Benina, she'd managed to fall asleep, rocking this way and that with the movement of the jeep in such a way that she was simply glad not to have fallen out in her unconscious state. When she'd woken up the previous morning, the world had felt vivid and alive, a hefty weight lifted from her shoulders. Now she just wanted to sleep again.

She had her freedom. There was just nothing to be done with it.

Swiping a hand across her brow, she brushed away the sand stuck to the sweat, groaning as she stretched out her neck. Cooper's knee bumped against hers, and she glanced over at him.

"Y'okay?" Diana asked, blinking again as she finally adjusted to the light.

"Mhm. Yep." He nodded without commitment, clutching the side of the jeep to steady himself.

She found herself staring at him for a moment. He was so young. When she had been his age, she was ready for war. She shouldn't have been.

"I need a fucking nap," She confessed.

Johnny snorted. "You just had one. Thought you were gonna fall out when we went over the dunes back there."

"Well, it's a good thing you woke me up out of concern then, isn't it?" Diana shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. He laughed, smiling that boyish grin that always met his eyes.

The moment they reached the rendezvous, she could tell Stirling was in a foul mood without even having to see his bitter expression. She could read it in the way he held his shoulders as he walked ahead of her, their months of proximity paying off - he was soured, even more so than usual.

"How'd it go?" Diana called to Paddy as she and Stirling wandered towards the well, empty flask in her hand ready to be refilled.

"Premature ejaculation on behalf of the French," Paddy admitted, less irritated than she'd come to expect. "Got nothin'."

She hummed, pulling up the bucket. The ragged edges of her ripped shirtsleeve flapped in the breeze, stained a deep red where her blood had seeped through the fabric and dried. Stirling scooped a palm through the warm water, lifting a handful to his mouth, brow firmly furrowed.

"David-"

"Go and sort yourself out, Diana," He ordered. "I won't have you bleeding all over the place."

"Armed or unarmed they're still the enemy," Diana pressed, looking to Paddy in the vague hope of some support. "Yes?"

He said nothing.

"Paddy-"

"Right. Armed or unarmed. They are the enemy." He repeated, voice uncomfortably steady.

Stirling was staring at her, assessing her, trying to figure out how much she truly believed what she was saying.

She met his eye, catching his gaze and holding it.

These things didn't weigh on her conscience. That mere fact was more haunting to her than any of the things she'd done.

She could play the monster if it gave the others a shred of humanity in return. She was good at that.

"Clean yourself up," Stirling muttered. Diana pushed herself away from the well with the heel of her palm, taking a swig of the foul-tasting water. Paddy brushed a hand against her uninjured shoulder as she passed, the hint of affection almost making her pause.

He raised a brow - the closest he'd ever get to asking if she was alright. She nodded.

There was a makeshift aid kit stashed in one of the jeeps, and she located it quickly, wandering through the ruins until she found somewhere solitary and quiet. For a moment, Diana just stared at the scorch marks running up the wall, the sand-coloured stone marred a sooty black. She couldn't quite picture what this place might have been before it was destroyed.

What had she been?

She shrugged off her shirt to leave the wound bare, tying the sleeves around her waist so that it hung loosely, unwashed hands rummaging through the aid kit. Each time she moved her arm, she could feel the bullet fragment, rubbing against her flesh from the inside, its intrusion almost violating. Locating the tweezers with a slight huff of relief, Diana angled her arm awkwardly, attempting to get a decent look as she readied herself for the task at hand.

"Oi," Reg called, stilling her movement. "Don't just- Don't do that. Give it here."

She hadn't heard him approach - hadn't noticed him following her - but the moment she heard his voice something in her relaxed, an ounce of tension releasing itself from her body, her fists unclenching.

"Hey," Diana sighed, handing over the tweezers without protest. He wrapped a gentle hand around her arm, palm rough against smooth skin, the bullet catching the sun with a glint as he angled her towards him.

"Not too bad," He uttered, leaning in close. "Not deep," She hissed as the tweezers poked inside, pressing against tender flesh as they pinched around the fragment. Her eyes screwed tightly shut, fighting the urge to flinch and make everything worse.

"Yeah, well. You should see the other guy," She huffed, trying to distract herself. He worked slowly, carefully, clearly unsure of himself - a gesture she would've appreciated had it not made the whole ordeal take twice as long.

"Reg, I really don't care if it scars, just get it out."

"Almost done, fuckin' hell," Reg scoffed. Another twang of pain shot through her with the last slight tug, and then it was over. He flicked the fragment onto the ground, leaving a slight spatter of blood across the sand.

"Thanks," Diana sighed, rubbing the back of her thumb across her brow. Without saying a word, he started to unravel a bandage, tying it around her arm before she scarcely had a chance to notice what he was doing.

He did so much for her without having to be asked. Over and over, time and time again, he softened those rough hands of his for her without ever expecting a thing in return.

He'd fixed the strap on her helmet before their first jump. She could tell he'd been embarrassed then - he wasn't now.

Her gaze softened as she watched him, his fingers fumbling as he tied off the knot and she felt the tug of a smile.

She felt safe with him. Actually safe, properly safe - how many people could she say that about? Even when he caused her pain, she knew it never came from an intention to hurt. There was a vulnerability that no one else had quite drawn out the same way. A vulnerability that she wasn't sure she'd known existed before she met him.

And what the hell had she ever given him in return?

It didn't seem fair - it wasn't. There was no equal exchange. He gave and she took because deep down Diana wasn't sure she knew how to give back. She wasn't sure she had anything worth giving.

"There," Reg nodded, meeting her eye as he looked up from the bandages. She was still staring. "... What?"

Her hand pressed against the back of his neck, sucking in a sharp, deep breath as if she were about to plunge below water.

She kissed him.

Diana could feel his nose pressing on her face as she pushed her lips hard against his, uncertain of how anything she wanted this much could still feel so forced. His hand hovered at her jaw, barely touching her as if afraid she might vanish if he did.

It couldn't have been more than a few seconds before she broke away, taking one quick breath after another, her forehead resting against his.

"... Right," Reg breathed.

"Yeah," Diana nodded, taking a step back.

"Okay."

"Mhm."

She untied her shirt from around her waist, shrugging it back over her wounded shoulder. Her heart was pounding so hard that she could hear it, and there was a sudden creeping anxiety that he could hear it too.

Passing her weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, she tucked a curl behind her ear. "I'm gonna-"

"Oh, yeah," He nodded.

"Right. Yeah."

Diana walked away, sweeping past him before he could even get the chance to say anything else. Reg listened to the repetitive crunch crunch crunch of boots against sand, her footsteps trailing away until they were gone and he was wholly alone.

He grinned.

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Paddy and Diana sat quietly beneath their makeshift canopy, battered books in their hands and sweat beading on their brows, the thin sheet of fabric over their heads little use against the desert sun.

Their tiny camp was silent, calm - uncharacteristically so. The rumble of an approaching engine pulled every eye as the jeep came into distant focus, taking shape against the flat wasteland. With one hand, she reached for her gun, holding her page with the other.

Paddy was already up. Diana held back, waiting for the driver to come into view.

She knew that terrible beard anywhere.

Rifle and book both discarded, she clambered to her feet, a lopsided smile tugging at her cheek as the jeep rolled to a stop and Kershaw sent her a wave. As Reg climbed out, advancing towards them, they exchanged a wordless nod of acknowledgement.

"Message from GHQ Cairo," He announced, stopping before Paddy. Diana hovered at his side, bouncing on her heels.

"Go on, then."

Even as he unfolded the paper, she had a feeling that whatever it was, it was big.

"Stirling captured at Gabes Gap... Stop," He gave her an uneasy look. She tried not to let her expression flicker at the news. "Overall command of SAS regiment, all units to pass to Maj-... Overall command of SAS regiment, all units to pass to Major Robert Blair Paddy Mayne."

There was a moment of prolonged silence. Diana slowly turned to stare at Paddy, gaze drilling into the side of his head.

"They've made you a major and put you in charge, Paddy. The mad bastards have put you in charge of fucking everything."

Mayne glanced over to meet her eye. In her surprise, Diana let out a cackle of laughter, smacking a hand over her mouth to stop the sound.

"Sorry."

Suddenly he was chuckling too, the pair laughing among themselves as the others watched on in silent shock. At some point over the next few days, it would sink in that Stirling was gone. In the next few weeks, she'd start to miss him.

Right now it was all just far too fucking bizarre.

Paddy began to walk away, still chuckling to himself, the low sound growing more menacing the longer it went on. Diana let out a sigh, her laughter trailing off as Reg stared at her like she'd gone mad. "Let's see it," She muttered, taking the note as he passed it over. She was still half-smiling as she read it over - once, twice, again.

Then she realised it was real.

She looked back up at Reg, eyes wide. She wasn't smiling anymore.

"... Oh, fuck."

#fic | damage gets done #oc: diana #sas rogue heroes #sas rogue heroes fic #sas rogue heroes oc #sas: rogue heroes #reg seekings #dave kershaw #sas: rh #reg seekings x oc #david stirling #johnny cooper

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air--so--sweet · 6 months ago

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TUA Season 4 Spoilers

Not trying to be a conspiracy theorist but it feels like some of Klaus' story was cut or changed in post or else rewritten and reshot. And I think that plot was was about Dave or at least his dog tags.

At Sy's dry cleaners, when he presents the box of alternative timeline objects Diego goes through it and hands items to Viktor and Ben. No one else grabs any items except Klaus who runs over the box excitedly and goes straight for one item - dog tags.

I wasn't able to read these (which feels like a mistake, wouldn't you want them legible in close up to hammer the point home?), but I think it's safe to assume these are Dave's dog tags, especially considering how Klaus interacts with them the rest of the scene (did my best to crop these so you can see him a bit better without totally murdering the quality).

Which really confused me because Klaus was wearing his dog tags at the end of season 3 right? And then I went back and looked at the scene and realised Klaus is wearing something on a chain but at no point do we see what it is because whatever is on the end of the chain is tucked into his shirt. And yes his dog tags are tucked into his shirt at other points in the season but it always just looks like they slipped into the shirt as he moved around, as they're often off to the side or at an angle...

...and even at times switching between inside his shirt, outside of his shirt and then inside it again within one scene (which is not a criticism, it's just the nature of having multiple takes and multiple angles, it can lead to inconsistencies)...

...whereas in the final scene of season 3 they're perfectly placed, hanging straight down and remain inside his shirt the entire time, even when he bends down.

So then I thought oh, it must be intentional. What he's wearing isn't his dog tags, Reginald rebooting the universe clearly erased what happened with Dave. We're going to get a scene something like the scene below from Ain't No Place (To Call Home) by Hara_Kiri.

(Sidenote: Very much recommend this fic, don't love how it ends, but don't still love the majority of the fic and it's a better ending then what we officially got tbh, also dont know if the author has a tumblr but happy to tag them if they do)

But then that never happens and the dog tags are just never seen or mentioned again. But then why have the scene of him finding them in the box? When he should have already had them? And then he still doesn't wear them?

But what really makes me think part of Klaus' story was cut, was the birthday promo video we got on October 1st last year. The cast are all in costume and it says 'previously recorded' because it was released during the SAG strikes, so it was likely filmed on set either between takes or at the end of a day, with the cast just in whatever costume they were in that day. And Klaus is in clothes we see him wear in the season....with all of his tattoos, except the Umbrella, clearly visible.

But then we never see him get his tattoos back in the show??? And this can't just be an error, there's no way a make up artist would accidentally apply four whole tattoos, and then Robert Sheehan wouldn't question it, and no one else on cast or crew would pick it up as a mistake. Like even if this was for some reason actually filmed separately to the show, he starts the season without his tattoos, there's no reason for them to forget that when they come to post the promo. Which suggests there was more to his plot with him somehow regaining his pre reboot body, but it didn't make it into the show.

#the umbrella academy #tua #the umbrella academy season 4 speculation #the umbrella academy season 4 spoilers

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sonicboomseason3 · 8 months ago

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Sonic Boom - Theft

NOTE: Here you guys are, a random excerpt from the larger Sonic Boom Season 3 project I've been working on! If people like this one, then I'm down to share more in the future as well (but only occasionally because I don't want to clog up any of the tags). But yeah, I'm not usually someone who's super confident in my writing, but I genuinely did like how this one ended up, and I want to test the waters with this so. lol.

Some context for this: Shadow has a part-time job at Meh Burger. and it's a running bit for Sonic to have a shitty time every time he tries ordering from him, but people who have been on my blog long enough already know about that particular lore. Also, sometime before this, Meh Burger replaced all of their menus with thin slabs of steel with words etched into them due to Reasons. Don't worry about it. Smiles.

“Uh…” Sonic faltered when he noticed that Shadow’s expression was visibly stormier than it usually was. “You… okay?”

“Where are my gloves.”

“Come again?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, hedgehog,” Shadow snapped. He pointed an accusatory finger right between Sonic’s eyes, causing him to go cross-eyed. “I haven’t been able to find them since this morning, and so I’ve had no other choice but to wear a backup pair provided by Meh Burger. Where are they.”

It took Sonic another moment to register the words coming out of Shadow’s mouth. Indeed, the latter was wearing the standard white gloves that everyone else wore instead of those weird gauntlet things. Aside from the golden rings clamped around his wrists, Shadow’s whole look was suddenly looking very, very plain.

“I… don’t know?” Sonic slowly replied, pushing Shadow’s finger back towards its owner. “What makes you think I have anything to do with that?”

Shadow scoffed and crossed his arms, clearly not believing him. “Because you are the one who would gain the most out of stealing from me. You want my gloves to enhance your own gear, which will in turn make your battles more efficient.”

“Are you serious, Shadow? I don’t even know where to begin with any of that,” Sonic said, beginning to get annoyed at all the hoops Shadow was jumping through just to blame him for his personal problems. “One, if I really felt like upgrading anything, I would’ve just asked Tails instead of going through all that trouble. Two, I have a perfectly good pair of gloves that I’ve been wearing for years, and I have zero problems with them. No holes, no chafing, no nothin’. I don’t even see what makes your gloves so special.”

“Of course they’re special. They’re the only pair in existence, unlike your inferior ones.”

Sonic’s eye twitched. “Yeah, well, at least mine don’t make me look like I’m wearing a couple of toilet plungers on my hands.”

“What?”

Honestly, Sonic didn’t really think that Shadow’s gloves were that bad, but he had his limits to how much he would take lying down before dishing right back. While he was definitely getting better at the whole ‘ordering Meh Burger when Shadow was on his shift’ thing, there were still times when he lost his patience. This was one of those times.

“Hey, can you exchange insults somewhere else?” Dave, showing up out of nowhere to stand next to Shadow, whined. “I’m sick of doing overtime cleaning up after your fights.”

Sonic supposed he should feel some semblance of gratitude towards Dave for preventing the fistfight that had definitely been about to happen, but he was still too irritated at being falsely accused. “Dave, tell Shadow it makes no sense for me to steal his gloves.”

Dave turned to Shadow with an eyebrow raised. “Your gloves are missing?”

“Since this morning. And if it truly wasn’t Sonic who took them—”

“Dude, for the millionth time, it wasn’t.”

“—then I will hunt down this unknown thief if it’s the last thing I do,” Shadow finished, completely ignoring Sonic. “And they will pay for daring to steal from me.”

“Wow, it’d sure suck to be them then,” Dave yawned, raising a hand to cover his mouth. The other two immediately took notice of the fact that he had on a very familiar red, black, and white gauntlet. “Too bad I don’t know anything.”

Sonic stared at Dave’s hand shielding his yawn, and then stared at his other hand hanging by his side. Sure enough, there was Shadow’s other glove. “Seriously?”

“David,” Shadow ground out through clenched teeth as he reached for one of Meh Burger’s steel menus.

To Dave’s credit, he didn’t even flinch at the realization that he had been found out. Instead, he closed his eyes in acceptance right as Shadow smacked him in the side of the head with the menu, the CLANG resounding throughout the entire restaurant. He fell to the floor, out cold.

“What’s wrong with you, Shadow?” Sonic asked in exasperation. “You’ve been here with him for hours at this point. How in the heck did you not notice until now?”

Shadow didn’t reply, only gazing down at Dave’s unconscious form with open disdain. Something else in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and his scowl deepened. “Sonic,” he snarled, his mood worsening even more. “My air shoes are missing.”

“Come again?”

Shadow, growling like a wild animal and possessing more flexibility than a limp pool noodle, kicked his leg high up in the air and slammed it down on the counter for Sonic to see.

Thankfully, he had socks on, but Sonic still could have gone on with his life without the increased proximity to Shadow’s unshod foot. “Oh my god, dude, don’t—”

“I said my air shoes are missing,” Shadow repeated dangerously, his leg still resting on the counter. The counter where food was supposed to be served. “If you have something to do with this, say so now.”

Sonic threw his hands up in the air. “We’ve already proven I didn’t steal your gloves, so why would I steal your stupid shoes?! And again, how do you go around not noticing this stuff?!”

Shadow opened his mouth say something, but the sound of an evil laugh coming from above cut him off. They both looked up at the sky and saw Eggman hovering in the air… with some newly acquired footwear and not his Eggmobile. Sonic slapped a palm to his forehead as Shadow’s eyes narrowed into slits.

“There you are, Sonic! Behold, my greatest plan yet!” Eggman announced smugly, descending to the ground and striking a pose in front of his foe. He was trying to look cool, but the effect was slightly dimmed by how he was clearly in pain despite all his gusto. Of course he was, given that Shadow’s shoes were a few sizes smaller than his own. “I’ve figured out a way to match your speed, and now I can finally defeat you, thanks to my new roller skates! Don’t even try to stop me—”

“Trust me, I don’t have to,” Sonic sighed, hand running down his face.

“Wait, what?”

“They’re air shoes,”came three menacing words from right behind Eggman. Eggman barely had the chance to realize that Shadow had teleported from his spot at the counter before another CLANG even louder than the last one rang out. Down the street, a few villagers in their homes opened their windows, poking their heads out in confusion.

“This pathetic island is populated by trash and trash only,” Shadow sniffed. He threw the menu off to the side and bent down to take his shoes back. When he couldn’t remove them so easily, he growled again and resorted to yanking on them with so much force that Sonic was surprised that Eggman’s feet didn’t pop off with them. Putting them under one of his arms, he stomped back over to Dave’s body to do the same with his gloves. With all his gear now back in his hands, he glanced over his shoulder at Sonic. “I’m out of here. You can go get your swill elsewhere. Or starve. It makes no difference to me.”

He teleported away to who even knew where, leaving Meh Burger completely unmanned by anyone still lucid.

Sonic stood quietly for a second before looking down at Eggman, who was face down on the floor with his butt in the air, his toes red from being crammed into ill-fitting shoes, and his hands covering the rapidly forming bruise on the back of his head. “You okay, Egghead?”

“Mombot…” Eggman whimpered, dazed. “I want Mombot…”

“Yeah, I dunno how you thought that could’ve ended any other way, to be honest.”

#sonic boom #sth #boom!sonic #boom!shadow #dave the intern #sonic #shadow #dave #writing thing #meh burger #eggman

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zeformulaeater · 3 months ago

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Hehe. Matt (Dsaf) x reader

You’re the janitor of Freddy Fazbenders. You and your coworker Matt were strolling through pizzeria. He slides his hand into yours. Your hold it back. Not saying anything. He points out where shenanigans had happened you guys make a stop at the prize corner. You begin cleaning over there. His gaze is fixated on you. Blush on his face, his smile like always. But more real. You arch over down to the ground to pick something up. His gaze looks back and fourth from you. You finish cleaning and walk back to the supply closet for the prize corner, your gaze fixates on everything. Walls lined with plushies and cheap plastic toy. He walks behind you. Chuckling and commenting “heh, yeah, nice for a fazbenders.” He chuckled. His smile soft. Your favorite thing., his smile.. it’s so.. perfect. Most people say it’s scary. Rude. Or vile. But no.. you find it just so beautiful.. it’s warm.. soft.. it’s his.. you chuckle. A slight blush forming on your face. He points to a back room. Saying to follow him to it. You stepped in. It’s off camera. It smells of musk and sweat. Two spring-lock suits in there, you hear a voice ring. It was your phone headed boss calling for Matt. Matt scurried to go see what he wanted you were left alone. You were about to leave the room when,. None than other Dave showed up. That stupid purple skinned spring lock scarred co worker of yours. He made you and offer, tell him about Matt.. or. No Las Vegas for you! You had no idea what to do. GORE TW STARTS HERE!

Backing up a bit. Dave pinned you to a wall. Chuckling. You declined. He seemed mad. He got angry. He pulled out a knife. And pointed it to your throat. When you heard the door open. It was Matt. He yelled at Dave. Asking him what he was doing. He persisted that he was just messing around. But when Matt tried to get you out of this situation. But when he came near. Twist. You felt a burning on your side. You gasped for air. Barely being able to breath. You let out a whimper as tears formed in your eyes. Twist. You felt your organs twist Synchronized with the knife in your side. Your wheezed. Coughing out your own blood. He rushed to your aid, as your fell onto the ground your knees Buckled. The soft faint screams coming from your mouth, he grabbed you by your neck and waist. He bent down on a knee right there next to you. He cried. His tears falling onto your blood remains from your coughing. Wiping them off each salty tear at a time. You used some of your final strength to place a hand on his cheek. Giving him a. Soft warm smile. He looked back at you. He slowly bend his face down to yours. Pulling you in for one last kiss. The taste of iron from the blood invading his sense. You slowly lost your hearing.l you couldn’t hear him, you gave back into the kiss. Him sobbing. You felt the tears stream down his face and into yours. You lost your sight. Nothing was visible. Only thing you felt was him, and soon. Everything was lost. Matt held your dead body. Cursing Dave’s name. As you died.

End!

word count! 598, (I think..)

@owlthehybrid (tag vin in this or smth..)

#matt dsaf #dsaf jack #dsaf #dsaf dave #dsaf x reader #reader x character #my fic

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jeffersonhairpie · 2 years ago

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8 shows to get to know me

I was tagged by @haahka to deliver the good news of these self-defining TV shows! Wahoo alright let’s go - in alpabetical order so no one feels shafted

1. Bojack Horseman

The terrible tale of a washed up actor from the nineties trying and failing to regain their mojo - also he’s a depressed horse. Equal parts comedy and devastatingly morose commentary on the human condition. If you finish it and need more please go check out Tuca and Bertie.

2. Chernobyl

It’s the story of the Chernobyl nuclear disaster! Woohoo everybody party! I’m sure nothing depressing will happen and we’ll all be feeling extremely normal by the end. (Is the best bit of television I’ve ever seen though)

3. House MD

Hilson shown for...reasons. Anyway I haven’t watched this show in years, I am comstantly battling a demon on my shoulder telling me to change that BUT I say say with great confidence that it’s a foundational text of my media enjoyment. The terrible tale of a drug addled doctor who gets away with eye watering quantities of malpractice due to him being the only guy who can solve medicine’s toughest riddles. Proceedural television never felt so good

4. Red Dwarf

The terrible tale of the last human in the universe waking up from stasis more than a million years since the rest of the species died off. Dave Lister is stranded on the space ship that was his place of work for the rest of his life, with nothing but a gobby computer, a creature that evolved from his pet cat, a robot and a hologram of his dead bunkmate. Yes, it’s a British comedy from the early nineties. Yes, there are only six episodes a season. Yes, there’s a laugh track. Wait, come back! Where are you going I thought you wanted to watch Red Dwarf!

5. Steven Universe

The terrible tale of a boy who lives with a piece of his dead mother so visible on his body that most of the galaxy expects him to fulfil her destiny rather than writing his own. The funny thing about Steven Universe is that people are still so mad about it for so many reasons but it remains one of the best TV shows of all time so who’s really winning? Don’t watch unless you can handle kids shows trusting their audience doesn’t need everything spoonfed to them lmao

6. Succession

The terrible tale of a family who couldn’t lose everything if they tried, and the kids who failed to keep themselves together. If you’re following me and don’t know this show by now then you need to start putting in more hours on tumblr. Also, that’s Tom!

7. Taskmaster

A despotic control freak and his extremely pathetic and wet assistant force people to compete in a variety of cruel and unusual tasks. Some for the game show to turn your brain off to, stay for the most insane dynamic between two men that you will ever have seen. Then, once you’ve polished off all 15 seasons of the British version, go and enjoy the international Taskmasters. This ride is never going to stop because they’ve discovered the perfect television formula

8. Twin Peaks

The terrible tale of Laura Palmer, who washes up on the shore of a lake, already dead, and then we get to learn everything about her. TV nerds the world over are ready to gush about this show at a moment’s notice and it’s with good reason. One of the few pieces of anything that really can more or less be all things to all people. Plus, it’s a David Lynch show so it’s weird as hell without apology

tagging @valoricky @crustacean-frustrations @hickeywiththegoodhair @duelsong @holy-yeosang @tomshivyuri @fuckyeahashes @bby-daesung and anyone else who feels like sharing. You can do it or not. It’s fun to talk about things you like though!

#bruuuhhh this was so hard to keep it to 8 #doing 5 would have been easy doing 20 would have been easy but that in between space....#so many things had to be carefully culled #about me #shitty text post

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doublegoblin · 1 year ago

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Get To Know My OC (Andrea time)

Thank ya to the ever cool @asterhaze for the tag (wasn't popping up for a notif but I did see my little name in your bunches of people)

I've done this for Alex and Dave (I think lol) so this time I'll be filling this one out for the lovely Andrea; second in command to Alex and honestly the one who helps keep them sane. Let's go!

Are you named after anyone?

To be perfectly honest; maybe? I don't often talk about it, but, back when I first came here, back when I had those memories still; there was just something about that name that stuck to me. I'm not sure if it was that portion of me's name, someone we liked, or like...whatever else. I still really like it, and it feels like it suits me. Though if I was looking for a change I'd probably go with something like a Rebecca or Sally. Best friends before I started working for the large and looming. Like they still are my best friends...I think? We chat every once in a while but what with work and all...I'm sorry, that wasn't part of the question!

When was the last time you cried?

Saw a really cute bunch of Dreamers hanging out on the park benches before coming here so uh...I'll let you put those pieces together.

Do you use sarcasm?

Depends on who I'm around. Most of the other co-workers are fine but uh, boss and big boss? Yeah, nah, it'd turn into one of those moments where you try and make a joke but then that other person makes it out into a whole big lecture. Alex I think would be more likely to tolerate if not understand it, I mean they've tried their hand at it before anyway. Dave on the otherhand...good luck explaining the nuance of that kind of thing to a god. I swear, you'd have a better chance trying to convince him to change the uniform mandate.

Do you have kids?

Mostly the new batch of newbies that stumble in. Unless you mean the other part of me? Then I have no freakin' idea!

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

How well they can take a little ribbing. Most people are pretty chill and even tag along. But some, hooo boy, they throw a giant fit! "Oh give it back!" this "How did you even get ahold of it?" that. Bunch of killjoys.

What’s your eye color?

So! The shade I'm going with now is like a mix of a soft lavender with an undercut of hazel! When I get bored of it I'm sure I'll change. I love lavender though! Oh my gosh it has to be one of the best colors of the visible spectrum! I haven't tried ultraviolet though...ya know what, think I got a new style to try out.

Scary Movies or Happy Endings?

Every waking moment here is a nightmare of horrors and corporate smothering...so happy endings are nice!

Any special talents?

I can throw a knife reeeeeally good. Like, really good. Care to see?

Where were you born?

Skip

What are your hobbies?

Oh man don't put me on the spot like this! Uhm...wow mind is a complete blank. I promise I'm not boring! I just...uh...well...I like to go for walks? Do crosswords? Uhm...ugh! I hate these kinds of question so skip!

Do you have any pets?

Oh my god! *she rummages around in her pocket and pulls out a heavily creased photo* This is Piere! *unfolding the photo you are greeted with the chittering maw of some kind of furry cephalopod * He is the sweetest little Mawlite! He's about three cycle old so still just a hatchling! Now despite his sweet looks he can be such a little rascal! Why recently-*for roughly the next 2-3 hours she enthusiastically goes over every small detail of her pet, the words all blurring together at some point*

What sports do you play/have played?

Uuuuhm, look I'll be honest with you. If I'm not out working I would much rather set my happy ass down on the couch and snuggle my wittle baby~ But, I was pretty okay at archery.

Favorite subject in school?

If there is anyone out there who liked anything about onboarding or those stupid preliminary classes I wou-you know what no, I know at least one person. Let me level with ya, I have forgotten most of the nitty-gritty so we'll just skip this question also.

Dream job?

Despite my bitching, I couldn't think of a better department to work in. Well...maybe the Wildlife sector but then I'd have to deal with that manager and wouldn't have as much time to be home and all that jazz. Though, I would get a sick kit. Knowing Dave though this will be going onto an official record so I'll just say I'm happy where I am.

Tags!: @stanrendipity @lola-theshowgrl @tailoroffates @tisiphonewolfe (Idk how many you have done for these!) @gummybugg @moonluringfrost @mysticstarlightduck

#writeblr #rituals and red tape #tag game #get to know the oc tag game #original fiction #the more I think about Andrea the more off kilter she skews #not quite manic pixie dream girl #but not a stereotypical receptionist

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homestuckemotes · 1 year ago

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HE >>> BLOG HOME

why hello there. full time AAC, power wheelchair, hearing aid and GJtube user, severely and visibly physically / developmentally / mentally disabled.

this blog serves as a spot for me to collect things possibly useful for various forms of AAC. additionally, i plan to produce some of my own AAC symbols, boards and cards and post them to this blog.

a proper website to host my information is under development.

my special interests are Homestuck (webcomic), DC-Marvel (primarily comic series - not interested in MCU), animals, textiles, computer science and web development.

(gif of a swirls in various colors)

my tagging system is generally the following:

fandom/theme

-> #not hs

--> #dc

--> #marvel

--> #animal

--> #video game

--> ect

-> #hs

--> #dave strider

--> #john egbert

--> ect

use / type

(high tech aac)

-> #symbols

-> #board sets

--> #TDSnap

--> #Coughdrop

--> #Proloquo

-> #other high tech

--> #text to speech

--> #eye gaze tracking

-> #low tech aac

--> #communication cards

--> #physical boards

--> #whiteboards

--> #writing based

--> #binders

--> #other low tech

(colorful swirls again)

i have no proper DNI - i block freely and unapologetically if i have an issue

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homestuck-fanauthor-coalition · 2 months ago

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@jellysmudge

You answer the door when the pizza arrives because Dirk looks like he’s going to make no move to do so in your stead, and spend the rest of the morning making a huge plan of attack for how you’re going to clean the apartment. The plan is incredibly detailed, no thanks to you. Your attitude towards cleaning tends to be, ‘pick something up and see what happens’, but Dirk doesn’t, apparently, operate that way. In fact, he seems almost overly prepared, but after a few minutes of trying to keep up with what he’s saying, you decide that you might as well let him drag you along. It’s not like you know what you’re doing in any capacity. As long as you see significantly less puppet ass by the end of this whole ordeal, you’re happy as a pig in mud. Additionally, and very fortunately, you also get to see Dirk react to eating pizza, which was something you didn’t know would get such an obvious, visible reaction. He takes a bite, and his face goes slack with surprise, eyebrows raising in such a comical display of ’holy shit’ that you actually laugh out loud. “I’ve never had… pizza in this body before,” Dirk defends himself, mouth full. That makes you stop for a moment. Your brain does a backwards wheelie and falls off a fucking cliff for a moment, giving you a split second to blue-screen while looking at Dirk, and even when your thoughts come back online you don’t know what to think. You don’t know what to say to that.

Chapters: 3/?

Rating: Mature

Archive Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: Gen; M/M

Fandom: Homestuck

Relationships: Dave Strider & Dirk Strider; Roxy Lalonde & Dirk Strider; Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider & Dave Strider; John Egbert/Dirk Strider; Rose Lalonde & Roxy Lalonde; Rose Lalonde & Dirk Strider; Auto-Responder | Lil Hal & Dirk Strider; Auto-Responder | Lil Hal & Dave Strider; Jane Crocker & Dirk Strider; John Egbert & Jade Harley & Rose Lalonde & Dave Strider; Rose Lalonde & Dave Strider; Jane Crocker & Jake English & Roxy Lalonde & Dirk Strider

Characters: Dirk Strider; Dave Strider; Rose Lalonde; Roxy Lalonde; Jane Crocker; John Egbert; Auto-Responder | Lil Hal; Jade Harley; Jake English; Dad Egbert; Davesprite (Homestuck)

Additional Tags: Ultimate Dirk Strider; Not Canon Compliant - Homestuck 2: Beyond Canon; Not Canon Compliant - The Homestuck Epilogues; POV Dave Strider; POV Dirk Strider; Strider Feels (Homestuck); Sober Roxy Lalonde; Autistic Rose Lalonde; thats not rlly all that relevant but its important to me that you know; Ultimate Selves; Alternate Timelines; Timeline Shenanigans; Fluff; Fluff and Angst; Fluff and Hurt/Comfort; Brother-Sister Relationships; Family Dynamics; Family Bonding; Dissociative Identity Disorder; Rating May Change; Warnings May Change; Rating for jokes/references to nsfw stuff

#dirk stider #dave strider #rose lalonde #roxy lalonde #homestuck #homestuck fic #homestuck fanfic

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pcwpolwrestling · 2 months ago

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11/23-PCW Extreme Political TV

Last Week on Night Two of PCW’s Extreme Election Night 2024 -Wellness checks on Hollywood celebs who threatened to do things if Trump won. No one seen at the airport leaving the country. Bono has not driven his car off the cliff. Rob Reiner has not set himself on fire. -Pulp Fiction Videos: PCW Women’s Champion Catherine Cline and challenger ‘The Ultimate Political Operative’ Kathryn Randall Collins -Don Lemon announces he’s leaving X. -MATCH #1-PCW WOMEN’S TITLE: Catherine Cline (Ind) © defeated Kathryn Randall Collins (Prog Alliance) to retain the title -The View’s Whoopi Goldberg goes to the Concession Stand… what could go wrong there? -Pulp Fiction Videos: The Green World Order and PCW Tag Team Champions Starz N. Stripes and ‘The One Man Anti-Hollywood A-List Stone Chism -Back at The View, Whoopi complains about the Concession Stand -MATCH #2-PCW TAG TEAM TITLE: Starz N. Stripes/Stone Chism (Amer Patriots) © defeated The Green World Order (Prog. Alliance) to retain the title. -Don Lemon puts out a press release announcing he’s leaving X. -A concession worker comes out and tells Johnny Suave that there was a mechanical breakdown and that’s why Whoopi Goldberg’s food order couldn’t be filled. -Wellness checks on the Hollywood celebs. No one has flown out of the country. Bono has not driven his car over the cliff. Rob Reiner has not spontaneously combusted. -MATCH #3-EXTREME HOUSE CAGE MATCH: The American Patriots defeated The Progressive Alliance -One last wellness check reports Eva Longoria has left the country, Bono has not driven himself off the cliff, and the streets of Hollywood are safe from Rob Reiner setting himself on fire. -MAIN EVENT-PCW TITLE: Charlie Blackwell (Amer Heartland) © defeated ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Prog Alliance) to retain the title.

Political Championship Wrestling Extreme Political TV Central Bucks High School Gym Doylestown, PA Saturday November 16th, 2024

Announcers: ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave AGE: 50 / HT: 5’ 11” WT: 195 HOME: Philadelphia, PA HAIR: Brown / STYLE: Like Ronnie Dunn / FACE: Goatee DRESS: Brown suit without tie

Colleen Crowder ‘Low-Level New York Times Reporter Trying to Make a Name for Herself’ AGE: 38 / HT: 5’ 5” WT: 142 HOME: New York City, NY HAIR: Black / STYLE: Curly / FACE: Narrow face with rounded jaw, turned-up nose, faint freckles, and thin lips. Bulging blue eyes, thin eyebrows. DRESS: Black pants suit

PCW Champion: Charlie Blackwell (American Heartland) Since 2/10/2024 Contenders: ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels (Progressive Alliance) Kirk Walstreit (American Patriots) Mike the Mechanic (Main Street USA)

PCW Women’s Champion: Catherine Cline (Independent) Since 9/21/2024 Contenders: Kathryn Randall Collins (Progressive Alliance) Laura Brobert (American Patriots) ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith (Main Street USA)

PCW Tag Team Champions: Starz N. Stripes and ‘The One-Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism (American Patriots) Since 3/3/2024 Contenders: The Deplorables: Ray McAvay/’Prairie Populist’ William Daniels Bryan (American Heartland Coalition) The Green World Order: GreenPete/’Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee (Progressive Alliance) The Sports Entertainment Corporation: Gator Bates/The Alabama Kid (SEC) Bi-Partisan Dream Team: Blue Dog D/RINO Main Street USA: Ken Worth-American Trucker/Farmer John Deer

***

The first match is joined in progress…

MATCH #1: Dave McCormick (-Pennsylvania-American Patriots) vs. Bob Casey (Pennsylvania-Progressive Alliance) The sound of splintering wood echoes through the arena as Dave McCormick slams Bob Casey through a table propped in the corner. The crowd erupts in a frenzy of cheers and boos.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP! McCormick just put Casey through that table like he was made of paper!

Colleen Crowder, seated beside Suave, visibly winces. Her stomach turns at the violence, but she maintains her professional composure and mutters under her breath.

Colleen Crowder: That’s hardly a legitimate political tactic.

McCormick, sensing victory, goes for the pin. The referee’s hand slaps the mat once… twice… but before the third count, Bucks County (PA) commissioners Diane Ellis-Marseglia and Robert J. Harvie Jr. rush the ring, yanking the official away.

Johnny Suave: What the hell are they doing?

Ellis-Marseglia, her face red with exertion, shouts at the referee, “Recount! We demand a recount!”

The crowd boos as the referee reluctantly begins the count again. Casey barely moves, clearly dazed from the impact.

One… Two… The referee’s hand hovers in the air, but once more, Ellis-Marseglia and Harvie intervene, demanding yet another recount.

Johnny Suave: This is absurd! Dave McCormick has Bob Casey pinned but Diane Ellis-Marseglia and Robert J. Harvie Jr are interfering with the count.

McCormick, frustration evident on his face, slides out of the ring and reaches underneath, pulling out another table.

Colleen Crowder: Oh great. Another table.

The crowd roars as he sets it up, their chants of “PCW! PCW! PCW!” drowning out Colleen’s protests.

With a burst of strength, McCormick hoists Casey up and delivers a thunderous body slam through the second table. The impact reverberates through the arena.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Colleen Crowder: Good God, that man has a family!

McCormick covers Casey again, and the referee begins to count. But like clockwork, Ellis-Marseglia and Harvie are there, demanding yet another recount.

Johnny Suave: Again Ellis-Marseglia and Harvie interfere and-

Suddenly, the crowd erupts as Lara Trump and Scott Presler charge down the ramp, steel chairs in hand.

Johnny Suave: IT’S LARA TRUMP AND SCOTT PRESLER!

Colleen Crowder: Oh my. This can’t be legal!

WHAP! Trump’s chair connects with Ellis-Marseglia’s back. WHAP! Harvie crumples to the ground after Presler cracks him in the back the steel-folding chair.

Johnny Suave: It is in PCW.

Casey, miraculously, staggers to his feet. Lara Trump, a gleam in her eye, tosses her chair to McCormick. The metal glints under the arena lights as it arcs through the air.

WHAP! The chair meets Casey’s skull with a sickening thud.

Johnny Suave: OH… HOLY CRAP!

Casey collapses like a marionette with cut strings.

McCormick covers. This time, the referee is not interrupted in making the count. One… Two… THREE!

The bell rings, and the arena explodes in a cacophony of cheers and outrage.

Johnny Suave: He’s done it! Dave McCormick has finally pinned Bob Casey!

Colleen, her face a mix of disgust and disbelief, shakes her head.

Colleen Crowder: This isn’t politics, this is madness.

As McCormick celebrates in the ring, Colleen can’t help but wonder if this spectacle is a reflection of something far more troubling in the current political landscape. The line between entertainment and governance has never seemed so blurred.

***

Opening: PCW!… PCW!… PCW!… PCW!… PCW!… PCW!…

The show cuts to Johnny Suave and Colleen Crowder inside the ring, microphones in hand. The arena buzzes with a mix of elation and dismay, mirroring the stark divide that’s gripped the nation.

Johnny Suave: Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to PCW Extreme Political TV! Tonight, we are at the Central Bucks High School Gym for tonight’s show. I’m Johnny Suave. She is Colleen Crowder, a low-level New York Times reporter trying to make a Name for herself.

Colleen cringes but offers a tepid wave of her hand.

Johnny Suave: Extreme Election Night 2024 is in the books, and boy, oh boy, has the landscape changed in PCW!

Colleen’s lips press into a thin line, her eyes narrowing behind her stylish glasses.

Colleen Crowder: Changed is certainly one word for it.

She mutters just loud enough for the mic to catch.

Suave, caught up in the moment, breaks into an exaggerated shimmy – the ‘Trump dance’ that’s gone viral across the country.

Johnny Suave: We’ve got a new sheriff in town, folks!

Colleen looks like she’s swallowed something particularly sour. This can’t be happening, she thinks, fighting the urge to cover her eyes. Columbia Journalism School did not prepare me for… whatever this is.

Colleen Crowder: Oh, for the love of –

Colleen’s words are drowned out by a deafening roar from the crowd.

Johnny Suave: WAIT A MINUTE! IS HE HERE?

He’s here.

The arena explodes as Donald Trump, flanked by Elon Musk, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., Tulsi Gabbard, J.D. Vance, and Mike Johnson, emerges from behind the curtain”USA! USA! USA!” The chant reverberates through the building.

Colleen can’t resist.

Colleen Crowder: Well, if it isn’t the Avengers of Alternative Facts.

Her voice drips with sarcasm as the Trump party strides down the ramp, basking in the adulation of the majority of the crowd.

Johnny Suave: The once and future CEO of PCW Donald Trump is here tonight!

The new PCW power players settle into their front-row seats, waving to their adoring fans. Trump, grinning widely, throws up twin victory signs.

Johnny Suave: Look at that, Colleen! A true American moment!

Colleen’s gaze drifts to the blue seats, where a pocket of attendees sit stone-faced, arms crossed.

Colleen Crowder: Not everyone’s feeling the love, Johnny,” she observes. “I think those folks up there would rather be at a root canal.

Johnny Suave: Hey it could be worse. You could be watching The View.

Colleen’s eyebrows shoot up, a retort forming on her lips, but before she can speak, the feed cuts abruptly.

***

The View The screen flickers, revealing a visibly uncomfortable Sunny Hostin on the set of The View. Her eyes are wide, darting nervously off-camera as she speaks in a stilted tone ‘legal note’ that she’s been directed to read like a hostage forced to read a message.

Sunny Hostin: In light of recent… developments, I would like to clarify my earlier statements regarding the… legitimacy of certain election results. After careful consideration and consultation with our legal team, I acknowledge that my previous comments were… unsubstantiated.

The feed cuts back to the PCW arena. Johnny Suave claps his hands together, his enthusiasm seemingly unaffected by the uncomfortable interlude.

Johnny Suave: And on that note, folks, we’ll be right back after this commercial message!

***

State of California Commercial California Governor Gavin Newsom appeared on screen with the Golden Gate Bridge outside of San Francisco in the background.

Flashback to 2020 where Newsom dined out with some ‘friends’ inside a swanky restaurant without a mask on while normal Californians were subjected to strict guidelines against large gatherings and ‘staying home.’

Gavin Newsom: Well. Kamala didn’t win at PCW Extreme Election Night 2024 and become the new PCW CEO. That being said, I’m here to tell everyone… don’t forget that California is still open for business!

In the background, an endless parade of moving trucks pass by… leaving California.

Gavin Newsom: “Forget putting your business in rednecky Red State states out in the middle of Nowheresville USA… California is the place where your business should be. California as the home of Silicon Valley, Hollywood, the Pacific Coast, Disneyworld-

Johnny Suave: “Stores closing. Employees laid off. Crap on the sidewalks… literally.

Gavin Newsom: “And-“

Johnny Suave: “Choking regulations driving business out of the state.”

Several moving trucks honk as they drive past towards the Arizona border.

Johnny Suave: “An average California home costs two–and–a–half times the average national home price and the average monthly rent is 50 percent higher than the rest of the country.

Gavin Newsom: “With all that, it’s no wonder that California is the place to be. So come to California, PCW. And, oh, make sure you bring your checkbook…”

**SFX-the screen goes static and crackling**

Little did California businesses know that they were cosigners on the state’s nearly $20 billion loan from the federal government that was used to cover California’s unemployment fund shortfall during the COVID pandemic. This ugly truth became apparent when the state recently decided to stop making payments on this loan. When a state defaults on its federal unemployment insurance loan, federal law requires that the state’s businesses repay the loan.

The state’s decision to default is inexcusable. California recorded a nearly $100 billion state budget surplus last year, thanks to the state’s top earners, that could have been used to repay the debt. The state received $27 billion in federal COVID aid it could have used to repay the debt. The state’s record $300 billion–plus 2022–23 budget could have retired the debt. Even after defaulting, the state could have resumed its payments this year and offset the tax burden on businesses, as it planned to do in its 2023–24 budget. But as the state’s finances continue to decline, the state has walked back making payments or offsetting higher business federal unemployment insurance taxes.

Twenty-two states received federal unemployment loans during the pandemic, and California is just one of four states that have not yet repaid the debt. As of the end of last year, California owed nearly two-thirds of the outstanding $27.5 billion federal unemployment insurance debt among these four states. The other states with remaining unpaid debt are New York, Illinois, and Connecticut, all of which are high-tax and high-spending states that are all losing population to other states. I will let you draw your own inferences about why people are leaving California and these other three states and moving to states with lower taxes, fewer regulations, more economic freedom, and lower living costs.

**SFX-the screen goes static and crackling**

Gavin Newsom: …so you too can live the California dream…

(pause)

Newsom finishes in a low voice.

Gavin Newsom: …and help us pay off our debt.

***

Backstage The camera pans to a backstage area. The husband, Tom, adjusts his “I Pay My Bills On Time” lapel pin while his wife, Sarah, smooths her “Fiscal Responsibility” sash.

Tom (puffing out his chest): Honey, did you see how I paid our electric bill three days early this month?

Sarah (beaming): Oh yes, dear! And I cancelled our streaming services to save an extra $29.99. We’re so responsible!

They high-five, their faces glowing with self-satisfaction.

Cut back to the broadcast desk…

Colleen Crowder: What the hell was that?

Johnny Suave: A young couple doing the right thing. Why?

Colleen Crowder: Why did we need to see that?

Johnny Suave: Why not? Let’s go to the ring for our next match.

***

MATCH #2: The SEC Squad vs. The Buffet Club The arena lights dim, then flare to life as Kimber Marshall’s heels click-clack up the steel steps. She slides under the bottom rope, her wavy brunette hair bouncing as she springs to her feet. The crowd’s roar washes over her like a wave, and she can’t help but grin.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for our next match!

She pauses dramatically, brown eyes sparkling.

Kimber Marshall: Already in the ring, we have… The Buffet Club!

The spotlight swings to illuminate two figures: a massive man whose belly strains against his singlet, and a lanky youth fidgeting nervously beside him.

Kimber Marshall: First, standing at 5’11” and weighing in at a whopping 346 pounds – ‘The Big Hungry,’ the ‘King of Buffet Style’… Couch Potato!

The larger man raises his arms, eliciting a mix of cheers and boos. Kimber suppresses a chuckle. He looks like he’d rather be lounging in his namesake than standing in this ring, she thinks.

Kimber Marshall: And his partner, from Chesterfield, Missouri, standing at 6’3″ and weighing 165 pounds… The Order Taker!

The skinny wrestler steps forward, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Do you want fries with that?” he shouts, his catchphrase met with groans and scattered laughter.

Kimber opens her mouth to continue, but a booming voice cuts her off.

Booming Voice: Now hold on just a minute!

Paul Finebaum strides down the ramp, a smug grin plastered across his face. Three imposing figures flank him, moving with the easy confidence of apex predators.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen, coming to the ring, led by SEC apologist Paul Finebaum… The SEC!

The crowd erupts as the new arrivals climb into the ring. Finebaum grabs the mic from Kimber’s hand.

Paul Finebaum: You call that an introduction?” he sneers. “Let me show you how it’s done. These men represent the greatest conference in all of sports!

Kimber rolls her eyes but steps back, allowing Finebaum his moment.

Paul Finebaum: From Gainesville, Florida, standing 6’3″ and weighing 239 pounds… Gator Bates!

The first wrestler steps forward, mimicking the infamous ‘Gator Chomp’ with his arms.

Paul Finebaum: From Tuscaloosa, Alabama, 6’2″ and 234 pounds of pure Crimson Tide… The Alabama Kid!

The second man raises a fist, drawing cheers from a section decked out in crimson and white.

Paul Finebaum: And finally,” Finebaum’s voice drops to a reverential hush, “the ‘Enforcer of the SEC,’ from Cordele, Georgia, standing 6’6” and weighing 295 pounds… ‘Georgia Bulldog’ Brice Brantley!

The largest of the three newcomers growls, baring his teeth in a ferocious grin.

As Finebaum continues to extol the virtues of his team, Kimber catches the eye of Johnny Suave at the announcer’s table. He gives her a wink and a thumbs up.

MATCH INFO: Paul Finebaum’s SEC model themselves as the best of the best. The Buffet Club are always looking for their next big meal.

KEY MOMENT: The match unfolds like a tornado tearing through a trailer park, with The SEC dominating from the start. Bates and The Alabama Kid take turns pummeling The Order Taker, their coordinated attacks a testament to their superior training. Couch Potato, meanwhile, lumbers around the ring’s perimeter, his massive bulk an obstacle the SEC wrestlers can’t seem to overcome.

MATCH FINISH: Inside the ring, Bates and The Alabama Kid exchange a look of frustration. They’ve worn down The Order Taker, but Couch Potato remains untouched. With a simultaneous grunt, they charge at the 346-pound behemoth, attempting to lift him for a double suplex.

Their muscles strain, veins bulging, but Couch Potato doesn’t budge. The crowd’s laughter turns to gasps as Brantley, the SEC’s enforcer, climbs through the ropes uninvited.

Johnny Suave: The Georgia Bulldog’s joining the fray! This can’t be good for the Buffet Club and-

Johnny’s drowned out by the thunderous crash as the SEC trio heaves Couch Potato over the top rope and through a conveniently placed table. The splintering wood punctuates the crowd’s chant: “PCW! PCW! PCW!”

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Back in the ring, Bates wastes no time. He grabs The Order Taker, his hands mimicking jaws as he clamps down on his opponent’s head.

Johnny Suave: Gator Chomp!

Bates slams The Order Taker to the mat.

The Alabama Kid tags in, climbing to the top turnbuckle. With a cry of “Roll Tide!” he launches himself into a picture-perfect moonsault. The referee’s hand slaps the mat once… twice… three times!

Kimber slides into the ring, her hair slightly disheveled but her voice strong as ever.

Kimber Marshall: Ladies and gentlemen, your winners… The SEC!

AFTERMATH: As the victorious trio celebrates, Paul Finebaum snatches the microphone from Kimber’s hand. His face is flushed with triumph as he addresses the booing crowd.

Paul Finebaum: You’ve just witnessed the dominance of the Southeastern Conference! In football or in this ring, the SEC reigns supreme. It just means more!

***

Backstage-Joe Scarborough and Mika Brzezinski The camera cuts abruptly to a dimly lit backstage area. Joe Scarborough and Mika Brzezinski stand before a PCW banner, their faces a mix of defiance and unease.

Joe Scarborough: Look, we know our meeting with Trump has ruffled some feathers, but-

Mika Brzezinski: We’re journalists. It’s our job to-

A blur of motion erupts behind them. Keith Olbermann, eyes blazing with righteous fury, swings a steel chair into Joe’s back. The sickening clang echoes as Joe crumples to the ground.

Rosie O’Donnell, her face contorted in disgust, grabs Mika by the hair.

Rosie O’Donnell: You sellouts!

Rosie slams face-first into the concrete wall.

Olbermann, looming over the fallen pair, spits out his condemnation.

Keith Obermann: Not a word Mr. and Mrs. Vichy Quisling say can ever be trusted again – not that those words ever should have been trusted. They are confidence tricksters – and grifters!

Berkeley, California Professor McCarthy strides into the scene, his Flock in tow. The Ultimate Social Justice Warrior’s eyes gleam with fanatical zeal, while the Legion of Anti-Fascists (LOAF #1 and #2), Codee Pink, and Emily S. List flank their leader menacingly.

McCarthy raises his ‘good book’ (a Bible-like book that tells people things that are correct or incorrect to say, think, or believe) high, its gilded edges catching the spotlight.

He thunders…

Professor McCarthy: Behold! The path of righteousness! Joe and Mika have strayed, and they must be silenced! Anyone who strays from the orthodoxy must be immediately shouted down!

The crowd’s boos crescendo, but McCarthy’s sneer only deepens.

Professor McCarthy: Silence, you simpletons! You lack the intellectual capacity to grasp these matters. We, the educated elite, must guide your feeble minds! So shut up and sit down because you people aren’t smart enough to think for yourselves and educated elites like me need to do the talking for them.

As the jeers intensify, Johnny Suave steps in.

Johnny Suave: Whoa there, Professor! Looks like it’s time for a commercial break!

McCarthy’s face purples with rage as the camera fades to black, the boos of the crowd still ringing in the air.

***

Backstage Cut to another man, Dave, ironing his work uniform. He winces, clearly battling a nasty head cold.

Dave (to himself): “Ugh, I feel like death warmed over. But by God, I’m going to drag myself to work anyway!”

He coughs dramatically, then strikes a heroic pose.

Dave: Because that’s what real Americans do! We work, no matter what!

Cut back to the broadcast desk…

Colleen Crowder: What the hell?

Johnny Suave: Don’t you think it’s great that people do good things?

Colleen Crowder: Fine. But why do we have to hear that?

Johnny Suave: I thought you liked virtue signaling.

Colleen turns to Johnny.

Colleen Crowder: I… I…

She throws her hands up.

Colleen Crowder: Whatever.

Johnny Suave: We’ll be back after these messages.

***

Commercial Break The screen flickers to life with a somber piano melody. A disheveled Jimmy Kimmel appears, huddled in the corner of a dimly lit studio.

Narrator: Every day, late-night hosts suffer in silence. Their once-vibrant shows now reduced to echo chambers of despair.

The camera pans across empty seats where Seth Meyers sits alone, feebly attempting to deliver a monologue to no one.

Narrator: With Trump’s victory, these endangered creatures face a crisis. Their ratings plummet, leaving them starved for attention and validation.

Stephen Colbert is seen scrounging through a dumpster marked “Leftover Trump Jokes,” his suit tattered and stained.

Narrator: But you can help. For just pennies a day, you can sponsor a late-night host, providing them with the essential Trump zingers and resistance rhetoric they need to survive.

Sarah McLachlan’s “Angel” swells as the camera lingers on Jimmy Kimmel, tears streaming down his face as he clutches a framed photo of himself with Obama.

Narrator: Please, call now. Don’t let their voices be silenced.

“In the arms of an angel, fly away from here…

***

The commercial fades, replaced by the raucous energy of the PCW arena. Johnny Suave stands in the center of the ring, his booming voice echoing through the stadium.

Johnny Suave: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to PCW Extreme-

Johnny’s eyes suddenly widen, his attention drawn to something above. A chill runs down his spine as he spots the commotion in the Eagle’s Nest.

Johnny Suave: MATT, LOOK OUT!

The camera whips around, revealing Dawn McGill at the production controls. Matt Gaetz lounges nearby, oblivious to the danger lurking behind him.

In a flash, American Patriot Senators Lisa Murkowski (Alaska), Susan Collins (Maine), John Curtis (Utah), and McConnell (Kentucky) descend upon Gaetz like a pack of wolves. Curtis shoves a table in front of Dawn, cutting her off from the melee. McConnell stumbles, inexplicably falling asleep on his feet, blocking Dawn’s path.

Johnny’s heart races as he watches the brutal assault unfold.

Murkowski and Collins rain down blows on Gaetz, their faces contorted with partisan fury. Curtis joins in, his fists a blur of bipartisan aggression.

The senators, drunk on their momentary power, drag Gaetz to the edge of the Eagle’s Nest.

Johnny Suave: Oh, no no no no-

With a collective heave, they send him plummeting towards the arena floor.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Johnny’s scream tears through the arena as Gaetz’s body crashes onto the unforgiving concrete.

The senators pose triumphantly, basking in the shocked silence of the crowd. But their victory is short-lived.

A blur of blonde hair and righteous indignation storms into view, wielding a steel chair like an avenging angel, descends upon the gloating senators.

Johnny Suave: THAT’S PAM BONDI!

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

Johnny Suave: BONDI TAKES THEM DOWN ONE BY ONE!

Murkowski, Curtis, and Collins crumple under Bondi’s furious assault.

Johnny, his voice hoarse from the chaos, can only shake his head in disbelief.

Johnny Suave: Ladies and gentlemen, Matt Gaetz was attacked and taken out . But now, they have to deal with Pam Bondi.

Bondi poses over Murkowski, Curtis, and Collins on the ground.

***

Backstage In the next room, a woman named Karen is writing in her gratitude journal.

Karen: I treated the barista like a human being today, just like I aspire to treat everyone with respect.

She looks up, making eye contact with the camera.

Karen: I always say ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ It’s not much, but I know it’s honest work and I’m sure the barista appreciated it.

Cut back to the broadcast table…

Colleen Crowder: Okay… what?

Johnny Suave: Don’t you love virtue signaling?

Colleen Crowder: Ahhh… yes. But not this.

Johnny Suave: Okay. As you know, Bud Light is trying to regain the market share they lost during a recent ad campaign. Tonight, we debut one of their new commercials and it features PCW wrestlers.

***

Commercial Break The Bud Light Commercial starts with a thunderous explosion.

Johnny Suave: Are you ready for some REAL AMERICAN BEER?

The ground shook and the air fills with the deafening sound of an explosion. The camera pans across a chaotic scene – a monster truck crushing smaller vehicles, driven by none other than ‘Red Solo Cup’ Ray McAvay himself. As he cracks open a Bud Light, foam sprays everywhere in a wild display of his strength and excitement.

Johnny Suave: Get ready for the ultimate American beer experience!

Ray McAvay: This ain’t your daddy’s light beer anymore!

Sarah Mae Smith appears, arm-wrestling PCW Champion Charlie Blackwell. She slams his hand down.

Sarah Mae Smith: Bud Light – for the heartland heroes!

Sarah Mae winks mischievously at the camera while a facetious Blackwell holds his arm.

Sarah Mae Smith: We’re reclaiming this beer for Main Street USA!”

Johnny Suave: Bud Light – now with 200% more FREEDOM!

As if on cue, majestic eagles soar overhead and fireworks spell out “BUD LIGHT” in bold letters of red, white, and blue.

‘Red Solo Cup’ Ray McAvay, ‘American Girl’ Sarah Mae Smith, and Charlie Blackwell chant in unison: “BUD LIGHT – *BLEEP* YEAH!”

*Commercial ends*

***

The crowd roars as Johnny Suave stands in the ring.

Johnny Suave: Speaking of Charlie Blackwell… ladies and gentlemen, here is your PCW Champion… Charlie Blackwell!

Charlie emerges from the curtain, title belt gleaming on his shoulder. The fans erupt, a sea of raised fists and chants of “Charlie! Charlie!” He strides down the ramp, slapping hands with the front row.

As Charlie slides into the ring, he surveys the screaming masses. A grin spreads across his weathered face. This is what it’s all about. The people. Not the suits in Washington or the fat cats on Wall Street.

He grabs the mic from Suave and Charlie’s gruff voice rings out.

Charlie Blackwell: PCW, we did it! We showed ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels and all the elites that the power belongs to the people!

The crowd goes wild. Charlie raises the title high, basking in their adoration.

Charlie Blackwell: This is our moment. A triumph for the everyman. PCW Extreme Election Night 2024 will go down in history as the night the people took back PCW. The night the people struck back at the elites. Extreme Election Night 2024 was a populist revolt! Blackwell raises the PCW title belt in the air…

Suddenly, two figures vault over the barricade. Before Charlie can react, Neal Conn and Hallie Burton are on him like rabid dogs.

Johnny Suave: What the hell?! It’s Neal Conn- making foreign policy as paramount responsibility of government, seeing the need for the U.S. acting as the world’s sole superpower as indispensable to establishing and maintaining global order! The man who believes America must dominate the world stage!

Charlie stumbles as Conn’s boot connects with his spine. He whirls to defend himself, but Burton is there, driving a knee into his gut.

Johnny Suave: And that’s Hallie Burton- protector of the military-industrial complex.

As Charlie gasps for air, Conn grabs a fistful of his hair.

Neal Conn: Your little populist fantasy is over, Blackwell.

Conn slams Charlie face-first into the turnbuckle.

The crowd’s cheers turn to boos as a new figure appears at the top of the ramp. Conservative Inc’s Steve ‘The Elk’ Elkins saunters toward the ring, a smug smile on his face.

Johnny Suave: Oh no. Not this country club jackass.

Elkins raises a microphone.

Steve ‘The Elk’ Elkins: You simple fools. You actually believe you have power? Let me educate you – money is power. Your pathetic American Heartland Coalition is nothing but a fairytale.

Charlie lunges for Elkins, but Conn and Burton hold him back. The Elk continues.

Steve ‘The Elk’ Elkins: True power will always rest with those who have the money and the connections. Your little revolution? It ends now.

Burton low blows Blackwell. Then Conn lifts Charlie up and sends him crashing down with an Air Raid Crash.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

The show ends with the camera focused on Blackwell laid out in the ring with Neal Conn, Hallie Burton, and Steve ‘The Elk’ Elkins standing over him…

***

…well, not yet.

Epilogue The scene cuts to Kamala Harris outside Central Bucks High School Gym. She fidgets nervously, her designer suit looking out of place against the worn brick building.

Kamala (thinking): This is humiliating. I was supposed to be the most powerful woman in the world. Now I’m begging for scraps.

She spots Lindy Li approaching and plasters on her trademark smile.

Kamala Harris: Lindy! So good to see you. I was hoping we could discuss-

Lindy cuts her off with a withering glare.

Lindy Li: Save it, Kamala. You promised our donors the moon and delivered a pebble.

Kamala’s smile falters. She thinks: Keep it together. You’ve faced worse than this.

Kamala Harris: Now, Lindy, let’s not be hasty. We can still-

Lindy Li: We? There is no ‘we’ anymore. You’re on your own.

As Lindy walks away, Kamala slumps against the gym wall, hat in hand, as the show comes to an end.

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