Post by Furious Julius Fairweather on Sept 28, 2021 17:57:54 GMT -5
1513 BC
It had been raining for days since the group arrived at the base of Mt. Sinai, with thunder and lightning constantly threatening to shake their resolve. Despite the storm, one man found the courage to traverse the mountain slopes, his billowing robes eventually disappearing beyond the thick clouds that covered Sinai’s higher elevation. The faithful that had gathered patiently awaited his return, but as the days turned into weeks, they feared that the old man was lost forever. Then, on the fortieth day, he reemerged on the mountain slope, making his slow descent back towards the hopeful onlookers. As he neared their encampment, there was no mistaking his long white hair and beard. Moses had returned to them, and he did not come back empty handed.
Two stone slabs were in his possession, each of them etched with divine tenets that had been delivered from on high. Upon his arrival at the encampment, Moses revealed those tenets to the faithful, his voice beaming with joy and confidence.
MOSES: Listen up! This first one is pretty basic, so let’s get it out of the way. The big guy says that there is only one god and that we’d better not have any other gods before him! Bjorn, that especially goes for you and that blonde guy with the hammer you like so much!
A red-headed Norsemen within the crowd hangs his head, shaking it back and forth with disappointment.
MOSES: Number two! The big guy is kind of the jealous type, so this one goes right along with the first. No false idols! Absolutely none! All of those pagan carvings of the squid-headed dude with bat wings have got to go! Maybe someone will find a use for them someday, but for now, Cthulhumas is officially cancelled!
Again, there are a few within the gathered crowd who seem disappointed, but Moses does not let this deter him.
MOSES: Number three! This one relates to some of the colorful language that has been spreading around certain members of the flock. While those curse words are not strictly forbidden, they will continue to be looked down upon. However, there is one word officially banned from this day forward! We will no longer take the lord's name in vain!
ONE OF THE GATHERED: Goddammit!
Some smart-mouthed member of the crowd cannot resist shouting out their response, earning a sideways glare from Moses, who otherwise does his best to ignore it and the snickering that follows.
MOSES: On to number four! I think most of you will enjoy this one, because I know I do. From this day forward, we will all have Sundays off of work! Since the big guy rested on the seventh day, he’s allowing us to do the same! This one applies to all of you, including the fine men and women of the parcel delivery service. Sir Patrick, we all hope you enjoy this well-deserved day of rest!
A large man in blue robes with a large satchel of scrolls and parchments slung over his shoulder, looks up from the crowd and smiles.
MOSES: Number five is for all of the young people who have gathered here today. It is decreed that you must honor thy mother and father! When they tell you to do something, you’d better do it! If not, it is within their right to smite you upside your heads! Cry and moan all you want, they’ve already been forgiven!
The young members of the gathered crowd are clearly unhappy with this commandment, sowing the seeds of teenage angst and rebellion for a millennia to come.
MOSES: Number six is kind of a no-brainer, but I guess there are some within our flock who need to have it spelled out for them! No...More...Murder! I don’t care if they’ve slept with your wife or stolen your cattle, you can’t just go around killing people! Besides, the big guy is going to cover theft and infidelity a little later on, so let him handle the punishments from now on! As for those of you who have been feasting on the flesh of virgins and throwing knives at your slaves for sport...knock it off! Killing is bad! Now you know, and knowing is half the battle!
Much like before, there are members of the crowd who seem disappointed upon hearing this latest decree, but they manage to keep their complaints to themselves.
MOSES: Going right off that last one, if you have gone through the hassle of marriage, you will no longer be allowed to fornicate with anyone other than your spouse! No hot neighbors, no co-workers, and most definitely, NO MORE PROSTITUTES! Consider this your own fault for buying the cow when you could have had the milk for free! For those of you who toil within the world's oldest profession, we are currently discussing a way to offer you financial aid to make up for lost profits.
Unaware that divorce rates are about to skyrocket as official marriages take a nosedive, Moses continues to spread the gospel as it was delivered unto him.
MOSES: Continuing to follow up on number six, there will be no more stealing! Just because you want something doesn’t mean you can just take it! That is considered theft and will not only be punishable by the law, but also by divine decree! Now, without all of the cheating and stealing, I hope you all understand that we’ll no longer need to commit so many murders!
Despite earlier reservations, most of those gathered seem unable to argue against the logic Moses is handing out.
MOSES: That brings us to number nine on the almighty’s top ten list! You shall not bear false witness against thy neighbor. In layman’s terms, that means that the lying has to stop! John, you need to pay attention to this one! If you continue to lie about the size of your genitalia, you’ll have to answer to the big guy from now on! And Latoya, you will be forgiven for all the men you’ve lain with, so please stop trying to convince us that it’s less than ten.
The man and woman who Moses has just called out look around with embarrassed expressions as the others gathered await the final commandment.
MOSES: Last but not least, you will not covet your neighbor’s house, your neighbor’s wife, or your neighbor’s servants! The big guy doesn’t even want you longing after your neighbor’s ox or donkey! Just be happy with what you have and stop being so jealous! I don’t care if Job has twelve chickens and you only have two, stop moping about it!
There are some nods of understanding in the crowd along with the shrugging of shoulders. Moses looks around, content that he’s delivered the divine message in a way that everyone can understand. Slowly, the crowd starts to disperse and one member of the gathered flock walks to Moses’ side.
JOSHUA: That was pretty heavy stuff. Do you think they’ll be able to handle all of it?
MOSES: Heh...of course they will! All of those things are perfectly doable. Now help me move these slabs into the Ark of the Covenant. They’re heavier than they look…
Joshua and Moses each lift up a tablet and start making their way toward a finely crafted chest, adorned with golden carvings.
JOSHUA: Holy shit! I mean...gosh...you weren’t kidding. These are heavy!
Moses gives a sheepish smile as he lugs his tablet over the edge of the chest and drops it inside.
MOSES: You didn’t have to haul them down the side of a mountain! To be honest, that’s not even the worst of it! There was a third one, but there was no way I could manage to bring it down with these two…
Joshua looks at the old man with an expression of surprise and concern.
JOSHUA: A third? With more commandments? Don’t you think we should go get it and tell everyone what it says?
With a shrug of his shoulders, Moses lets out a sigh.
MOSES: Meh...I figured they’d have enough to process for now. Once they get the first ten nailed down, we’ll give them the last three. Besides, it’s not like they’re going anywhere…
With that, Moses and Joshua place the lid onto the Ark, give each other a nod for a job well done, and begin to make their way towards the nearest wine merchant.
3,543 Years Later and Thousands of Miles Away...
MOMMA FAIRWEATHER: ...and that’s the story of how Moses brought the Ten Commandments down from the mountain and spread the holy message! Most people don’t know about that last part, but Winston always told me that’s how his granddaddy had written it in his diary.
Somewhat confused by the modern interpretation that his mother has just relayed to him, Julius looks at her with a puzzled expression.
JULIUS: So you’re saying that you believe all that bullshit in Winston’s old journal? That ain’t nothing but some crazy white man’s motherfucking obsession! Ain’t no goddamn way I’m buying into any of it…
*SMACK!*
Julius grasps at his burning cheek where his mother had just slapped him.
JULIUS: Fuck! What the hell did you do that for, Momma?
MOMMA FAIRWEATHER: That was for blasphemy, you mouthy little shit! Don’t let me catch you doin’ that again or I’ll tan your hide so bad that Syndicate will be the least of your worries! You ain’t too big for me to put over my knee!
Shaking his head in disbelief, Julius stands up to take his leave, taking the old leather-bound journal with him.
MOMMA FAIRWEATHER: I don’t remember excusing you!
Julius’ shoulders sag as he lets out a sigh.
JULIUS: May I be excused, Momma?
She gives a sly smile in response.
MOMMA FAIRWEATHER: Who’s momma’s angel?
JULIUS: I am, momma.
MOMMA FAIRWEATHER: That’s right, sugar bear. Now you run along and see what Joey is up to. That boy’s got a long way to go before he’s cleaning this house as good as Winston did.
With another heavy sigh, Julius leaves his mother alone in the den so that she can watch her daily soaps. He then makes his way through his luxurious Detroit home, eventually reaching the ground level where his personal gym and attached garage are located. As he starts to make his way toward the garage, he considers how much time he has on his hands now that Project: Honor has completed their world tour and that The F Word has reached its conclusion. Despite a lucrative offer being put together by Rock Johnson’s attorneys, Julius just couldn’t see himself continuing with his exclusive program without Winston by his side. No longer having to produce his own show or travel around the world, he had ample time to hone his fighting skills and study up on future opponents. Still, he found himself with more downtime than he had liked. With little else to occupy his mind, the leather-bound journal that had been bequeathed to him by the late Winston Winfield was attracting more and more of Julius’ attention.
At first, it was a nice piece of fiction for him to read. It not only gave him a better understanding of Winston’s family, but the tall tales veered away from the bible he had been raised on to such a degree that he couldn’t help but to be entertained. Still...what if the words written in the journal were true? What if there were three lost commandments that the world had never been given? What if there was an ancient biblical artifact out there somewhere, just waiting for him to uncover and sell to the highest bidder?
Julius’ random thoughts begin to fade as he enters his garage to see Joey Fatone applying a generous coat of wax to his Golden Cadillac.
JULIUS: Motherfucker! What in the blue hell are you doing? You don’t just put the wax on from side to side! You’ve got to wax on and wax off!
The bad motherfucker makes circular motions with his hands as the former member of N’SYNC and current personal assistant to Julius Fairweather looks up from his work, thick lines of sweat running down his rotund face.
JOEY FATONE: I’m...I’m sorry, Mr. Fairweather...I….
JULIUS: Ain’t you ever seen The Karate Kid? Motherfucker...I know what we’re watching for family movie night this weekend…
Julius gives Joey Fatone a smack upside the back of his head, clearly a habit picked up from his mother, and the former pop idol grimaces in pain and embarrassment.
JULIUS: Never mind that right now. I’ve got a big match coming up against Syndicate, there’s a couple of motherfuckers out there running around with tag titles that don’t belong to them, and I’m still the number one contender to the Prime Championship! Get a camera set up so I can spread the gospel to those motherfuckers!
With an understanding nod of his head, Joey puts his waxing duties aside in order to complete his employer’s demands. Several minutes later, Joey has a camera set up in the garage, its lens focused on Julius as he stands in front of his prized automobile.
"What’s up, motherfuckers? I know most of you would be expecting a brand new F Word right about now, but that just ain’t gonna happen. Out of respect for my fallen comrade, Winston Winfield, I have decided that The F Word will be taking an extended hiatus. Now don’t you go worrying about becoming deficient in Vitamin MF, because there are other plans in the works that you’ll all be privy too soon enough. Until then, there’s a lot going on in the world of Project: Honor as Season Three kicks off, and wouldn’t you just know it? A lot of it pertains to your favorite motherfucker."
"Right off the bat, Night of Honor turned out to be one hell of a busy time for the motherfucking members of Fire and Ice. Not only are Pyro and I the new Tag Team Champions, but we also walked away with a pair of individual wins. Now my favorite flame-broiled motherfucker is the Noble Champion, while I’m fixing to relieve Jason Long of that Prime Championship he’s been keeping track of for me. Not only that, but I’m stepping into the ring against Syndicate for the third time this week so we can settle our differences once and for all."
"First things first…"
He leans back against the Golden Cadillac behind him, a somewhat perturbed expression on his face.
"...I should be showing off one of those pretty gold belts I won alongside Pyro, but a pair of sore losers decided that possession is nine tenths of the motherfucking law. It just so happens that two...or in this case four...can play at that game. My boy, Pyro, may be a little preoccupied this week, but you can bet your deceitful asses that I’ll be at Fallout ready to conduct business. So Lazarus...Charon...while you motherfuckers are busy throwing down with Steel and Venom, you’d better learn to grow eyes in the back of your fucking heads. One way or another, I plan on taking back what rightfully belongs to Pyro and myself. If I have to play the thief to beat the thieves, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. Fair warning, motherfuckers; I’m coming for you one way or another."
He runs a finger across the hood of his Cadillac, takes a moment to gauge the level of wax on his finger, and then shakes his head in disbelief. Putting the ass-chewing he’ll continue to give Joey Fatone after the video, Julius forces his attention onto other more pressing matters.
"Speaking of gold belts being where they belong, how you doing, Jason?"
A bright smile appears on Julius’ face.
"I know, I know...our match hasn’t been announced yet, but we both know it’s only a matter of time. I admit, it would have been nice beating the reigning Legacy Champion in order to win my first singles title, but I guess that just wasn’t in the cards. No worries though, motherfucker. I still plan on beating you nonetheless. We may be bros on some level, seeing eye-to-eye on certain things, but that doesn't change the fact that you’ve got something I want. I’ve had my eyes on that Prime Championship since Drago Santiago had his slimy hands all over it. Hell, I was even one of your strongest supporters when you fought that motherfucker and claimed it for yourself. You might even say I was as happy as a puppy with two peckers when you dethroned that motherfucker. Of course, when the day finally comes for me to dethrone you, lord only knows how many peckers that puppy will have."
Still sporting a wide smile, Julius turns to open the driver’s side door of his cherished Cadillac. He slides into the seat with smooth familiarity, closes the door behind him, and turns his head to look out the open window.
"But look at me, putting the motherfucking cart before the horses. Jason is gonna have to wait just a little bit longer, cause there’s another motherfucker on my dance card that is in dire need of my utmost attention. That motherfucker would be you, Syndicate. You had a lot of unflattering things to say about me when we were heading into Night of Honor, but that’s okay. I may have even deserved some of your bile and venom. The fact that I broke you down until you were a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest notwithstanding, I accept the fact that I’ve had my share of setbacks over the past nine months. I also accept the fact that no one has ever been on the kind of steak I’m currently on. Eleven straight wins is something that Elena DeDraca can’t even lay claim to right now, but I can. We’re not talking about some motherfucking dark matches either. We’re talking about facing the best motherfucking competition that DeMarco could throw my way, yourself included."
"So Syndi, not only is this something of a rubber match between us, but it’s also a chance for me to defend that winning streak. I’ve got to admit, when the time comes for me to meet Jason inside of that ring for the Prime Championship, it would feel pretty damn good to have a dozen or more straight wins under my belt. I know it felt pretty damn good having ten when I beat your ass a couple of weeks ago. Then again, I can imagine how it might feel for you to step up and put an end to that streak, what with Elena DeDraca on your horizon. After all, if you can’t manage to put down lil’ old me, how in the blue hell do you think you’re gonna stack up against The British Raven? Hell, if you can’t get the job done, maybe I’ll just take your shot for myself after all. Hunter couldn’t get the job done. Jason couldn’t either. It’s starting to look like you won’t do any better, Syndi. But me?"
Julius grins as he hangs his arm over the door’s open window frame.
"It may sound a little cocky, but I’ve learned that I can do anything if I put my motherfucking mind to it. Even if that means knocking out The British Raven’s sweet tooth in favor of a savory Royale With Cheese, I’m the man to get the motherfucking job done. What about you, Syndi? What kind of man is The L.A. Outlaw? ‘Cause from where I’m sitting, he’s starting to look like my bitch. Want to prove me wrong? Want to flip the script and show us that you’re more than a fluke? All you have to do is show up on Thursday Night and put my shoulders on the mat. I promise that won’t be nearly as easy as it sounds, but I’ll find a way to squeeze you into my busy schedule if you really believe in ‘the third time’s the charm’. Just in case I hit you so hard that you forgot who I am, I’ll be the bad motherfucker ready to put the twelfth notch on his belt at your expense."
Julius turns his attention away from the camera long enough to start the engine of the Cadillac. He gives it some gas a few times, the sound of its rumbling engine echoing in the garage.
"The first time we met, you managed to get out of the match before anything could be settled. The second time, I left you lying like a war veteran who fought for the wrong side; down to one leg with a faraway look of fear in your eyes. This time?"
He revs the engine again as he gives the camera a confident and satisfied smile.
"This time I end the legend of the L.A. Outlaw before it can even begin. Season Two was just the beginning of the Julius Fairweather saga, and in Season Three we’re gonna put things in a whole new gear. I guess you could say my quest is just beginning, and unfortunately for Syndicate, it all starts with him. So until then, be cool or be gone."
Still showing his expression of confidence for the camera, Julius puts the car into reverse, presses his foot down on the accelerator, and leaves the stain of burnt rubber on the pavement as he speeds out of the garage.
1513 B.C. Three Months After Moses Came Down From Mt. Sinai.
The old man looked upon the final tablet, the final three commandments staring back up at him. As murder, adultery, theft, and the worshipping of false idols continued throughout the lands, he realized that the masses were simply not ready to receive the last three messages. It was bad enough that even he did not fully grasp their meaning. Having sent for Bjorn the Norseman, he knew that the stone tablet would be better if broken into three parts and hidden away in the New World the Northern explorers had claimed to have discovered. The world simply was not ready...not yet. Still, Moses hoped that the day would come when some brave pilgrim or wise man would seek them out and reveal their divine meaning to the world at large...
It had been raining for days since the group arrived at the base of Mt. Sinai, with thunder and lightning constantly threatening to shake their resolve. Despite the storm, one man found the courage to traverse the mountain slopes, his billowing robes eventually disappearing beyond the thick clouds that covered Sinai’s higher elevation. The faithful that had gathered patiently awaited his return, but as the days turned into weeks, they feared that the old man was lost forever. Then, on the fortieth day, he reemerged on the mountain slope, making his slow descent back towards the hopeful onlookers. As he neared their encampment, there was no mistaking his long white hair and beard. Moses had returned to them, and he did not come back empty handed.
Two stone slabs were in his possession, each of them etched with divine tenets that had been delivered from on high. Upon his arrival at the encampment, Moses revealed those tenets to the faithful, his voice beaming with joy and confidence.
MOSES: Listen up! This first one is pretty basic, so let’s get it out of the way. The big guy says that there is only one god and that we’d better not have any other gods before him! Bjorn, that especially goes for you and that blonde guy with the hammer you like so much!
A red-headed Norsemen within the crowd hangs his head, shaking it back and forth with disappointment.
MOSES: Number two! The big guy is kind of the jealous type, so this one goes right along with the first. No false idols! Absolutely none! All of those pagan carvings of the squid-headed dude with bat wings have got to go! Maybe someone will find a use for them someday, but for now, Cthulhumas is officially cancelled!
Again, there are a few within the gathered crowd who seem disappointed, but Moses does not let this deter him.
MOSES: Number three! This one relates to some of the colorful language that has been spreading around certain members of the flock. While those curse words are not strictly forbidden, they will continue to be looked down upon. However, there is one word officially banned from this day forward! We will no longer take the lord's name in vain!
ONE OF THE GATHERED: Goddammit!
Some smart-mouthed member of the crowd cannot resist shouting out their response, earning a sideways glare from Moses, who otherwise does his best to ignore it and the snickering that follows.
MOSES: On to number four! I think most of you will enjoy this one, because I know I do. From this day forward, we will all have Sundays off of work! Since the big guy rested on the seventh day, he’s allowing us to do the same! This one applies to all of you, including the fine men and women of the parcel delivery service. Sir Patrick, we all hope you enjoy this well-deserved day of rest!
A large man in blue robes with a large satchel of scrolls and parchments slung over his shoulder, looks up from the crowd and smiles.
MOSES: Number five is for all of the young people who have gathered here today. It is decreed that you must honor thy mother and father! When they tell you to do something, you’d better do it! If not, it is within their right to smite you upside your heads! Cry and moan all you want, they’ve already been forgiven!
The young members of the gathered crowd are clearly unhappy with this commandment, sowing the seeds of teenage angst and rebellion for a millennia to come.
MOSES: Number six is kind of a no-brainer, but I guess there are some within our flock who need to have it spelled out for them! No...More...Murder! I don’t care if they’ve slept with your wife or stolen your cattle, you can’t just go around killing people! Besides, the big guy is going to cover theft and infidelity a little later on, so let him handle the punishments from now on! As for those of you who have been feasting on the flesh of virgins and throwing knives at your slaves for sport...knock it off! Killing is bad! Now you know, and knowing is half the battle!
Much like before, there are members of the crowd who seem disappointed upon hearing this latest decree, but they manage to keep their complaints to themselves.
MOSES: Going right off that last one, if you have gone through the hassle of marriage, you will no longer be allowed to fornicate with anyone other than your spouse! No hot neighbors, no co-workers, and most definitely, NO MORE PROSTITUTES! Consider this your own fault for buying the cow when you could have had the milk for free! For those of you who toil within the world's oldest profession, we are currently discussing a way to offer you financial aid to make up for lost profits.
Unaware that divorce rates are about to skyrocket as official marriages take a nosedive, Moses continues to spread the gospel as it was delivered unto him.
MOSES: Continuing to follow up on number six, there will be no more stealing! Just because you want something doesn’t mean you can just take it! That is considered theft and will not only be punishable by the law, but also by divine decree! Now, without all of the cheating and stealing, I hope you all understand that we’ll no longer need to commit so many murders!
Despite earlier reservations, most of those gathered seem unable to argue against the logic Moses is handing out.
MOSES: That brings us to number nine on the almighty’s top ten list! You shall not bear false witness against thy neighbor. In layman’s terms, that means that the lying has to stop! John, you need to pay attention to this one! If you continue to lie about the size of your genitalia, you’ll have to answer to the big guy from now on! And Latoya, you will be forgiven for all the men you’ve lain with, so please stop trying to convince us that it’s less than ten.
The man and woman who Moses has just called out look around with embarrassed expressions as the others gathered await the final commandment.
MOSES: Last but not least, you will not covet your neighbor’s house, your neighbor’s wife, or your neighbor’s servants! The big guy doesn’t even want you longing after your neighbor’s ox or donkey! Just be happy with what you have and stop being so jealous! I don’t care if Job has twelve chickens and you only have two, stop moping about it!
There are some nods of understanding in the crowd along with the shrugging of shoulders. Moses looks around, content that he’s delivered the divine message in a way that everyone can understand. Slowly, the crowd starts to disperse and one member of the gathered flock walks to Moses’ side.
JOSHUA: That was pretty heavy stuff. Do you think they’ll be able to handle all of it?
MOSES: Heh...of course they will! All of those things are perfectly doable. Now help me move these slabs into the Ark of the Covenant. They’re heavier than they look…
Joshua and Moses each lift up a tablet and start making their way toward a finely crafted chest, adorned with golden carvings.
JOSHUA: Holy shit! I mean...gosh...you weren’t kidding. These are heavy!
Moses gives a sheepish smile as he lugs his tablet over the edge of the chest and drops it inside.
MOSES: You didn’t have to haul them down the side of a mountain! To be honest, that’s not even the worst of it! There was a third one, but there was no way I could manage to bring it down with these two…
Joshua looks at the old man with an expression of surprise and concern.
JOSHUA: A third? With more commandments? Don’t you think we should go get it and tell everyone what it says?
With a shrug of his shoulders, Moses lets out a sigh.
MOSES: Meh...I figured they’d have enough to process for now. Once they get the first ten nailed down, we’ll give them the last three. Besides, it’s not like they’re going anywhere…
With that, Moses and Joshua place the lid onto the Ark, give each other a nod for a job well done, and begin to make their way towards the nearest wine merchant.
3,543 Years Later and Thousands of Miles Away...
MOMMA FAIRWEATHER: ...and that’s the story of how Moses brought the Ten Commandments down from the mountain and spread the holy message! Most people don’t know about that last part, but Winston always told me that’s how his granddaddy had written it in his diary.
Somewhat confused by the modern interpretation that his mother has just relayed to him, Julius looks at her with a puzzled expression.
JULIUS: So you’re saying that you believe all that bullshit in Winston’s old journal? That ain’t nothing but some crazy white man’s motherfucking obsession! Ain’t no goddamn way I’m buying into any of it…
*SMACK!*
Julius grasps at his burning cheek where his mother had just slapped him.
JULIUS: Fuck! What the hell did you do that for, Momma?
MOMMA FAIRWEATHER: That was for blasphemy, you mouthy little shit! Don’t let me catch you doin’ that again or I’ll tan your hide so bad that Syndicate will be the least of your worries! You ain’t too big for me to put over my knee!
Shaking his head in disbelief, Julius stands up to take his leave, taking the old leather-bound journal with him.
MOMMA FAIRWEATHER: I don’t remember excusing you!
Julius’ shoulders sag as he lets out a sigh.
JULIUS: May I be excused, Momma?
She gives a sly smile in response.
MOMMA FAIRWEATHER: Who’s momma’s angel?
JULIUS: I am, momma.
MOMMA FAIRWEATHER: That’s right, sugar bear. Now you run along and see what Joey is up to. That boy’s got a long way to go before he’s cleaning this house as good as Winston did.
With another heavy sigh, Julius leaves his mother alone in the den so that she can watch her daily soaps. He then makes his way through his luxurious Detroit home, eventually reaching the ground level where his personal gym and attached garage are located. As he starts to make his way toward the garage, he considers how much time he has on his hands now that Project: Honor has completed their world tour and that The F Word has reached its conclusion. Despite a lucrative offer being put together by Rock Johnson’s attorneys, Julius just couldn’t see himself continuing with his exclusive program without Winston by his side. No longer having to produce his own show or travel around the world, he had ample time to hone his fighting skills and study up on future opponents. Still, he found himself with more downtime than he had liked. With little else to occupy his mind, the leather-bound journal that had been bequeathed to him by the late Winston Winfield was attracting more and more of Julius’ attention.
At first, it was a nice piece of fiction for him to read. It not only gave him a better understanding of Winston’s family, but the tall tales veered away from the bible he had been raised on to such a degree that he couldn’t help but to be entertained. Still...what if the words written in the journal were true? What if there were three lost commandments that the world had never been given? What if there was an ancient biblical artifact out there somewhere, just waiting for him to uncover and sell to the highest bidder?
Julius’ random thoughts begin to fade as he enters his garage to see Joey Fatone applying a generous coat of wax to his Golden Cadillac.
JULIUS: Motherfucker! What in the blue hell are you doing? You don’t just put the wax on from side to side! You’ve got to wax on and wax off!
The bad motherfucker makes circular motions with his hands as the former member of N’SYNC and current personal assistant to Julius Fairweather looks up from his work, thick lines of sweat running down his rotund face.
JOEY FATONE: I’m...I’m sorry, Mr. Fairweather...I….
JULIUS: Ain’t you ever seen The Karate Kid? Motherfucker...I know what we’re watching for family movie night this weekend…
Julius gives Joey Fatone a smack upside the back of his head, clearly a habit picked up from his mother, and the former pop idol grimaces in pain and embarrassment.
JULIUS: Never mind that right now. I’ve got a big match coming up against Syndicate, there’s a couple of motherfuckers out there running around with tag titles that don’t belong to them, and I’m still the number one contender to the Prime Championship! Get a camera set up so I can spread the gospel to those motherfuckers!
With an understanding nod of his head, Joey puts his waxing duties aside in order to complete his employer’s demands. Several minutes later, Joey has a camera set up in the garage, its lens focused on Julius as he stands in front of his prized automobile.
"What’s up, motherfuckers? I know most of you would be expecting a brand new F Word right about now, but that just ain’t gonna happen. Out of respect for my fallen comrade, Winston Winfield, I have decided that The F Word will be taking an extended hiatus. Now don’t you go worrying about becoming deficient in Vitamin MF, because there are other plans in the works that you’ll all be privy too soon enough. Until then, there’s a lot going on in the world of Project: Honor as Season Three kicks off, and wouldn’t you just know it? A lot of it pertains to your favorite motherfucker."
"Right off the bat, Night of Honor turned out to be one hell of a busy time for the motherfucking members of Fire and Ice. Not only are Pyro and I the new Tag Team Champions, but we also walked away with a pair of individual wins. Now my favorite flame-broiled motherfucker is the Noble Champion, while I’m fixing to relieve Jason Long of that Prime Championship he’s been keeping track of for me. Not only that, but I’m stepping into the ring against Syndicate for the third time this week so we can settle our differences once and for all."
"First things first…"
He leans back against the Golden Cadillac behind him, a somewhat perturbed expression on his face.
"...I should be showing off one of those pretty gold belts I won alongside Pyro, but a pair of sore losers decided that possession is nine tenths of the motherfucking law. It just so happens that two...or in this case four...can play at that game. My boy, Pyro, may be a little preoccupied this week, but you can bet your deceitful asses that I’ll be at Fallout ready to conduct business. So Lazarus...Charon...while you motherfuckers are busy throwing down with Steel and Venom, you’d better learn to grow eyes in the back of your fucking heads. One way or another, I plan on taking back what rightfully belongs to Pyro and myself. If I have to play the thief to beat the thieves, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. Fair warning, motherfuckers; I’m coming for you one way or another."
He runs a finger across the hood of his Cadillac, takes a moment to gauge the level of wax on his finger, and then shakes his head in disbelief. Putting the ass-chewing he’ll continue to give Joey Fatone after the video, Julius forces his attention onto other more pressing matters.
"Speaking of gold belts being where they belong, how you doing, Jason?"
A bright smile appears on Julius’ face.
"I know, I know...our match hasn’t been announced yet, but we both know it’s only a matter of time. I admit, it would have been nice beating the reigning Legacy Champion in order to win my first singles title, but I guess that just wasn’t in the cards. No worries though, motherfucker. I still plan on beating you nonetheless. We may be bros on some level, seeing eye-to-eye on certain things, but that doesn't change the fact that you’ve got something I want. I’ve had my eyes on that Prime Championship since Drago Santiago had his slimy hands all over it. Hell, I was even one of your strongest supporters when you fought that motherfucker and claimed it for yourself. You might even say I was as happy as a puppy with two peckers when you dethroned that motherfucker. Of course, when the day finally comes for me to dethrone you, lord only knows how many peckers that puppy will have."
Still sporting a wide smile, Julius turns to open the driver’s side door of his cherished Cadillac. He slides into the seat with smooth familiarity, closes the door behind him, and turns his head to look out the open window.
"But look at me, putting the motherfucking cart before the horses. Jason is gonna have to wait just a little bit longer, cause there’s another motherfucker on my dance card that is in dire need of my utmost attention. That motherfucker would be you, Syndicate. You had a lot of unflattering things to say about me when we were heading into Night of Honor, but that’s okay. I may have even deserved some of your bile and venom. The fact that I broke you down until you were a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest notwithstanding, I accept the fact that I’ve had my share of setbacks over the past nine months. I also accept the fact that no one has ever been on the kind of steak I’m currently on. Eleven straight wins is something that Elena DeDraca can’t even lay claim to right now, but I can. We’re not talking about some motherfucking dark matches either. We’re talking about facing the best motherfucking competition that DeMarco could throw my way, yourself included."
"So Syndi, not only is this something of a rubber match between us, but it’s also a chance for me to defend that winning streak. I’ve got to admit, when the time comes for me to meet Jason inside of that ring for the Prime Championship, it would feel pretty damn good to have a dozen or more straight wins under my belt. I know it felt pretty damn good having ten when I beat your ass a couple of weeks ago. Then again, I can imagine how it might feel for you to step up and put an end to that streak, what with Elena DeDraca on your horizon. After all, if you can’t manage to put down lil’ old me, how in the blue hell do you think you’re gonna stack up against The British Raven? Hell, if you can’t get the job done, maybe I’ll just take your shot for myself after all. Hunter couldn’t get the job done. Jason couldn’t either. It’s starting to look like you won’t do any better, Syndi. But me?"
Julius grins as he hangs his arm over the door’s open window frame.
"It may sound a little cocky, but I’ve learned that I can do anything if I put my motherfucking mind to it. Even if that means knocking out The British Raven’s sweet tooth in favor of a savory Royale With Cheese, I’m the man to get the motherfucking job done. What about you, Syndi? What kind of man is The L.A. Outlaw? ‘Cause from where I’m sitting, he’s starting to look like my bitch. Want to prove me wrong? Want to flip the script and show us that you’re more than a fluke? All you have to do is show up on Thursday Night and put my shoulders on the mat. I promise that won’t be nearly as easy as it sounds, but I’ll find a way to squeeze you into my busy schedule if you really believe in ‘the third time’s the charm’. Just in case I hit you so hard that you forgot who I am, I’ll be the bad motherfucker ready to put the twelfth notch on his belt at your expense."
Julius turns his attention away from the camera long enough to start the engine of the Cadillac. He gives it some gas a few times, the sound of its rumbling engine echoing in the garage.
"The first time we met, you managed to get out of the match before anything could be settled. The second time, I left you lying like a war veteran who fought for the wrong side; down to one leg with a faraway look of fear in your eyes. This time?"
He revs the engine again as he gives the camera a confident and satisfied smile.
"This time I end the legend of the L.A. Outlaw before it can even begin. Season Two was just the beginning of the Julius Fairweather saga, and in Season Three we’re gonna put things in a whole new gear. I guess you could say my quest is just beginning, and unfortunately for Syndicate, it all starts with him. So until then, be cool or be gone."
Still showing his expression of confidence for the camera, Julius puts the car into reverse, presses his foot down on the accelerator, and leaves the stain of burnt rubber on the pavement as he speeds out of the garage.
1513 B.C. Three Months After Moses Came Down From Mt. Sinai.
The old man looked upon the final tablet, the final three commandments staring back up at him. As murder, adultery, theft, and the worshipping of false idols continued throughout the lands, he realized that the masses were simply not ready to receive the last three messages. It was bad enough that even he did not fully grasp their meaning. Having sent for Bjorn the Norseman, he knew that the stone tablet would be better if broken into three parts and hidden away in the New World the Northern explorers had claimed to have discovered. The world simply was not ready...not yet. Still, Moses hoped that the day would come when some brave pilgrim or wise man would seek them out and reveal their divine meaning to the world at large...
