Post by J-TV on Mar 2, 2024 8:43:29 GMT
The following is a special broadcast of
The views and opinions expressed therein do not represent those of the Imperial Wrestling Federation or its staff.
(Special thanks to Kassemlabs for the Jason Hathaway Breaking Bad Intro)
New Mexico, The Chihuahuan Desert
New Mexico, The Chihuahuan Desert
The blazingly hot New Mexican sun burns brightly in the sky above the Chihuahuan Desert, a blindingly bright orb suspended in a pale, cloudless blue sky. The sun's rays bake the arid lands beneath, waves of thick, hot air rising from the earth's pores like the sweat of nature itself. All is quiet, save the sounds of the birds overhead, and the idle chatter of sparse wildlife. In the distance, though, a rumbling sounds. It grows louder, louder still. With each passing moment, we must wonder if it is some massive beast approaching, or perhaps a rolling storm set to douse these lands in torrid sheets of water?
As the camera pans we see a pale white object thundering down the abandoned road that stretches through the dry lands. It is no creature born of the desert, but a behemoth made by man itself. The RV rumbles and sputters to a stop before a massive boulder resting on the side of the road, several bullet holes painting the side of the vehicle, as well as hastily painted stripes that looked to still be fresh.
Suddenly, the door of the RV swings opens with a crash, and steam erupts dramatically from the doorway. From within, we hear chatter, two bickering male voices trading barbs back and forth before a hush falls over them. Footsteps echo out of the RV, and a figure emerges from the steam. He wore a wrinkled, lime-green button up shirt, hanging low over a fashionable pair of the tightiest-whities you ever did see in your life.
"Lord almighty."
The man pulls up the gasmask covering his face, tossing it haphazardly away as he sneers at the land around him, long chestnut hair whipping into his face against the harsh, dry winds.
"What a shithole."
"Mr. Hathaway, why the fuck are we stopped here?" A skinny dude in a hoodie sticks his head out of one of the curtained windows of the RV, eyes red and bloodshot as he squints against the harsh sun. "When I told you Malo probably lived under a rock, I was making a joke, brother."
Jason holds a finger up to his lips and shushes Robbie his faithful sidekick and camera operator. The boy was so young, had so much to learn... If only Jason was the half the mentor he wished he could be to that impressionable, malleable mind.
"Let me cook, Robbie." He assured his friend, walking across the arid earth towards the massive boulder across from him. "I want to let that ratty-looking loser know exactly what's going to happen to him next week, and I wanna see the look in his beady little eyes when I do it." The fifth of March was a big day for him, debuting with the IWF and all. No way in hell was he going to let some slaphappy munchkin ruin his big arrival. Turning around and posing in front of the boulder, Robbie quickly retrieves his camera and snaps a few shots.
"You're gonna tell me that you think him and the rest of the Grande Goof Troop don't live under a boulder in the middle of the desert? Have you seen him? Poor guy hasn't seen a drop of water or cooked meat in a decade! I don't care what you say, this is the first place I'm lookin'!"
Robbie merely shrugged in response, ducking back into the RV to look over the latest batch of product the two of them had just finished cooking, some of the purest and most potent he'd ever seen in his life. If it hadn't been for Mr. Hathaway's formula, it wouldn't have been possible. Now? They were going to take the world by storm. Opening up his pearly whites, Robbie leans in to sample the product when he's startled by a scream from outside.
"That's a fucking mountain lion!"
Robbie scrambles, quickly grabbing his handgun and rushing to the door of the RV. Sure enough a massive cat is chasing down Mr. Hathaway like the fresh cut of meat he is right towards him! Without thinking, Robbie raises his gun and fires off a few rounds, awarding him with a litany of colorful swears from Jason and the attention of the mountain lion.
"Don't shoot at me, dumbass!" Jason shrieks, running away from his trigger-happy friend and hightailing it down the road back to civilization on foot as the lion pounces Robbie into the vehicle, the sounds of terrified screaming filling the empty sky...
Jason Hathaway walks alone down a long and empty road, the hazy image of a town filling the horizon ahead of him. He hadn't found the elusive El Grande Malo, not today. In just a few days' time though, there would be nowhere left for him to run-- the IWF was going to put Malo right in front of him and pay him to do whatever the hell he wanted to him. Next time that mountain lion tried to fuck with J-TV, he'd feed him Malo's head to keep him content, he'd stake his gleaming reputation on it!
The sound of an RV rumbling up from behind Jason causes him to turn just as it pulls up beside him. The driver's side window opens, and Robbie the Camera Guy sticks his head out, some nice pink scratches on his face and a clump of hair missing from his head.
"There you are, asshole! Get in the car!"
He didn't have to ask twice. Jason climbs in the RV, which looks as though World War 3 was fought inside of, and slides into the passenger seat next to Robbie, leaning back against the cushioned chair with a sigh. "Fuck, thanks man. How the hell did you get away from that thing?" He asked, tilting his head towards his partner with a raised eyebrow. "With no help from you, ya dick. I fed him the product. Chocolate is awful for cats, I guess. Weird, I always thought that was just a dog thing."
"Oh come on, man! We poured our hearts into those brownies! Hathaway cried in exasperation, only to be interrupted by Robbie shoving his phone into Jason's hands. It displayed the profile of El Grande Malo on iwf2013.proboards.com (visit today!)
"The dude is from Mexico, Maine. We're in the wrong state."
"Maine? Who the hell is from Maine?"
"I just told you. Malo."
"No, I mean... I don't think I've ever physically met a person from Maine. It's like... you hear about the place but you don't realize it actually produces human beings. You can't be pissed at me for this mistake, Rob."
"Motherfucker I almost got eaten by a puma over a fucking Breaking Bad skit, I can absolutely be pissed at you."
Well... He had to give that one to him. Jason shrugs, backing out of Malo's profile and scrolling through the IWF website boredly. "Alright, alright, let's just head to Oklahoma for the show. Think we can grab some tacos before we leave?
"Alright, but you better kick this guy's ass next Tuesday or I'm doubling my fee."
Jason waves off that concern, kicking his feet up on the dash as the RV fades out into the horizon, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust and a loud rumble in its wake. "You worry too much. Maybe this one didn't go to plan, but you know better than anyone that if there's one thing I can do, it's wrestle. Besides, the next one is a studio shoot, no wild animals to worry about."
The screen slowly fades to black, and a 'To Be Continued' card fills the empty space as a final sentence ends the segment.
"Wait... is Dixie Wrecks an innuendo?"
Well howdy there pardner.