Post by Furious Julius Fairweather on Jan 19, 2022 14:37:42 GMT -5
With another episode of The F’n Edge complete, the man calling himself Julius Foulweather exited the PH studio with a pleasant, yet somewhat disturbing, smile upon his face. The night was still young, allowing him plenty of time to further explore his new mischievous and sinister attitude. Not far from the studio, he saw his first opportunity to do the wrong thing, as an elderly woman was preparing to cross a busy street with her arms full of grocery bags. The man with the short, white hair standing on end immediately began to make his way toward the woman as he struggled with the decision of how to make her evening worse. He considered simply knocking the grocery bags from her hands or leading her into the middle of the street before leaving her to fend for herself. As he neared her side, he decided that he’d simply do both by shoving the old woman down when they reached the busiest part of the crossing.
“Good evening, my dear.”
His words were like those of a biblical serpent whispering into Eve’s ear.
“Might I offer you some assistance in crossing this busy intersection?”
As the woman turned to acknowledge his presence, he expected her to respond with a smile of gratitude. Then, upon seeing her face, a flash of recognition entered his mind.
“Wait…don’t I know you?”
When he finally realized that the old woman was in fact a member of The Purple Reign known as Marissa Covington, it was already too late. She dropped the grocery bags from her arms so that she could operate the taser in her hand more efficiently, jabbing it against Foulweather’s throat. That blast of electricity was all it took to drop Julius to the sidewalk and send him into a sudden unconsciousness…
A SHORT TIME LATER...
He would wake less than an hour later, propped up in the passenger seat of Marissa Covington’s car, only he no longer had foul thoughts on his mind. Instead, he found himself to be quite confused.
“What the fuck? What happened? Where the fuck am I?”
Marissa, now out of her old lady disguise, reached over to put a reassuring hand on Julius’ shoulder.
“Julius? Julius Fairweather? Is that you? Are you okay?”
He looked at Marissa with an expression of confusion, but upon seeing her face, those familiar suave thoughts began to emerge.
“Well, hello there, pretty momma. The only thing better than waking up next to you would be if we were buck-ass naked in the backseat.”
Marissa let out a relieved sigh upon hearing his response.
“Thank god. I wasn’t sure the taser would be strong enough to snap you out of it. We need to get you to the nearest Purple Reign safehouse as quickly as possible. I don’t know how long we have until you revert back into…your other half.”
The confusion returned to Julius’ face.
“Cupcake, it’s always good to see your lovely face, but I don’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about.”
“Julius, this is going to be a lot to take in. First, I need you to tell me the last thing you remember.”
He remained quiet for a moment, realizing that her question was more difficult to answer than it should be.
“Well, just little things here and there I guess, kinda like I’ve woken up from a motherfucking dream a few times. But the last thing that’s clear in my mind was being tied to a chair by some shady motherfucker. He was going on and on about secret societies and the Illuminati. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure that motherfucker sounded a lot like Ted Cruz.”
She nodded her head and continued to rest her hand on his shoulder.
“That’s right, Julius. That man then used an experimental device to electrocute you on national television.”
“Motherfucker…”
“The thing is…that was over two weeks ago…”
Julius stared at Marissa blankly for a few moments until suddenly…
“HA HA HA HA! That’s some funny shit, but you’re gonna have to do better than that to pull one over on Julius Fairweather.”
Marissa’s expression remained firm as she tightened her grip on his shoulder.
“Julius, this is no joke. You showed up on Fallout calling yourself Julius Foulweather and you powerbombed one of your opponents off the side of a cage…”
“I did? Wait…which one?”
“I don’t know wrestling that well, but I think it was Elena DeDraca…?”
The humored smile faded from Julius’ face.
“Fuck. Why in the hell would I do something like that? I like that bad bitch’s style! Are you sure it wasn’t Slade Castle? Maybe Druscilla White or Jacob Steele?”
“No, it was definitely Elena DeDraca. Besides, I think someone might have killed Jacob Steele during the match as well.”
Julius was quiet for several more moments before he finally nodded his head.
“Yeah, that seems legit. There’s always some motherfucking getting iced on that show. So…what else did this other version of me do?”
“Well, you just finished a new episode of The F’n Edge where you admitted to breaking a kitten's spine and drinking its blood...and…well…”
His eyes narrowed as he braced himself for the worst.
“And?”
“And you went out of your way to praise the members of the True Society.”
There was another brief pause until Julius suddenly flung the car door open and leaned outside to retch on the pavement. For a full minute, Julius gagged and spitted while leaning out of the car, as Marissa did her best to comfort him by patting him on the back. Finally, he wiped his chin with the back of his hand and pulled himself back into the seat.
“I knew I had a funny taste in my mouth…”
“Whatever The Illuminati did to you, it seems to have brought your darkest thoughts and desires to the surface. What’s worse, we may not have seen the full extent of their experiment’s effects. That’s why it’s so important that we get you to the nearest Purple Reign sanctuary so we can attempt to reverse the process before the shock I gave you starts to wear off…”
Suddenly, Julius sprung out of the car and slammed the door behind him. Marissa opened her own door and followed him as quickly as she could.
“No! No fucking way! First of all, I don’t believe in any motherfucking Illuminati bullshit! The True Society are the ones who tied me to that motherfucking chair to get me out of the way! There ain’t no way I’m letting you, Prince, or the great Betty White herself zap me with more electricity like I’m some kind of motherfucking science project!”
Marissa’s expression turned sad when she realized that she had more bad news to break…
“Julius…Betty White passed away on New Year’s Eve…”
This latest revelation caused Julius’ eyes to nearly bug out of their sockets, and for a few moments he was so grief-stricken that he was at a loss for words. Eventually he managed to stutter a response…
“That…That’s not true…that’s impossible…!”
“I’m so sorry, Julius. Just please come with me…”
“No way, pretty momma! If you decide it’s Julius’ duty to please that booty, give me a call. Otherwise, stay the hell away from me, you Scientology-loving psycho!”
Not giving her the chance to stop him, Julius ran off into the night and didn't look back. She considered chasing after him, but finally decided it would be a hopeless effort. As he vanished into the darkness, all Marissa could do was mutter to herself.
“...I was only into Scientology for a few months…”
LATER...
Before the effects of the taser had completely worn off, Julius had already booked an immediate flight back to Detroit. Convinced that the True Society were playing mind games with him, he was determined to resolve the issue before his next scheduled appearance on camera. A quick scan of his phone revealed that he and Slade Castle would be defending the Tag Team Titles against Percival Burque and Serrano Poblano, which put his mind somewhat at ease. At least, he thought, he would have an easy week as far as matches were concerned.
He didn’t have the first clue on how to track down Arik Holt but finding Slade Castle would be another matter entirely. They both lived in Detroit, and Julius had enough street contacts in the city to get a bead on his tag team partner. One way or another, Julius was prepared to get some answers.
Then, somewhere over the Midwest, the effects of Marissa’s taser finally wore off. At first, Julius Foulweather was confused as to why he was on an airplane, and he briefly considered breaking into the cabin and crashing the jet into a cornfield. After deciding that ending his own life would be counter-productive, he settled on sneaking into the Stewardess Station and urinating in the oversized coffee urn. The disgusted faces of his fellow passengers and the excessive use of vomit bags made the rest of his journey more tolerable.
After arriving in Detroit, Foulweather considered his options carefully. He thought it might be fun to go to his home and kick his saintly mother out of the house, or perhaps murder Joey Fatone by suffocating him in a toilet. Then, after a quick glance at his phone, Foulweather started to realize what his other self had been up to. He looked at the scheduled main event of Proving Ground and knew that recreational activities would have to wait. He needed to formulate a strategy with his tag team partner, and unlike Fairweather, Foulweather knew where to find him. Having trailed Castle to a boarded-up warehouse from the airport after the previous Fallout, Julius hailed a cab outside of the airport and told the driver exactly where to go.
After the short drive to a secluded part of the city, Julius paid his fare and went to work investigating the immediate area. His quick investigation led to a side entrance, where he found a rusted padlock lying broken on the ground. With a satisfied grin, he pushed the door open and made his way inside. From there, all he had to do was follow the sound of voices until he emerged in Slade Castle’s living area. He continued to watch, as Castle held a pair of metal chopsticks over the knee of a sobbing Serrano Poblano, who had been tied to a chair.
SERRANO: I don’t know who that is man, c’mon please! Don’t do this! I just wanted to talk about my issues!
Slade begins to bring the hammer down, not happy with the answer. He hesitates. Something about Serrano's words is able to reach Slade before he can finish applying his devilish methods. Slade drops the hammer.
SLADE: I… I’m sorry Serrano. You just caught me at a bad time.
FOULWEATHER: Bad time indeed. I was hoping to see you finish. What a shame.
SLADE: What in the…
Slade turns around when he is greeted by the sight of Julius Foulweather in the doorway of the kitchen. The shock causes him to release the hammer in his hand and it falls directly onto Serrano's toe. Serrano bites his lip, trying to not attract more attention to himself.
FOULWEATHER: You seem surprised to see me, Slade? We are partners, aren’t we? Of course I know where your secret lair is. How could I not? Now then, shall I continue where you left off?
A wicked smile crosses Julius’s face as he begins to approach the two.
SLADE: Nah, man. I’m starting to think this whole thing is just a big misunderstanding. It might be better if we just let him go…
FOULWEATHER: Nonsense. If this poor excuse of a man has fallen into our laps, who are we to ignore fate’s divine influence?
SLADE: What? I don’t even know what that shit means. Look, Julius, I don’t know if this is some kind of act you’re pulling to screw with True Society or if you’re really fucked up in the head, but…
Julius stops in his tracks and glares at his partner when he expresses his thoughts.
FOULWEATHER: You doubt my conviction? Very well, I’ll just have to prove myself to you firsthand.
Julius turns back toward the kitchen, taking a moment to look around. He spots the open drawers and makes his way over to them, reaching in to pull out a fork in each hand.
FOULWEATHER: Yes, these shall do nicely.
He then turns back toward Serrano and quickly walks toward him.
SERRANO: Whoa, daddio! Is this some kind of motherforking joke? Heh…get it? MotherFORKing…
FOULWEATHER: Oh, I assure you, when these instruments are being pried underneath your fingernails, you’ll know that it’s no laughing matter.
Slade shakes his head as Julius moves one of the forks toward Serrano’s bound hand, still unsure if what they are doing is necessary.
SLADE: C’mon, man. You don’t need to prove yourself to me, alright? He’s not worth the trouble…
The tips of the fork begin to press underneath the fingernail of Serrano’s middle finger, when Julius’ sinister smile is suddenly interrupted by a voice from the other side of the room.
??: Stop! No friend of mine will be tortured today, or my name isn’t…
Slade and Julius both turn their attention to the doorway, their eyes falling on the painted face of Percival Burque.
PERCIVAL: Ratman! Wrestling Supreme!
As a huge smile comes over Serrano’s face, Julius stares at this new arrival with confusion, and Slade can only shake his head in disbelief.
SLADE: I’m gonna need a new safehouse…
“Good evening, my dear.”
His words were like those of a biblical serpent whispering into Eve’s ear.
“Might I offer you some assistance in crossing this busy intersection?”
As the woman turned to acknowledge his presence, he expected her to respond with a smile of gratitude. Then, upon seeing her face, a flash of recognition entered his mind.
“Wait…don’t I know you?”
When he finally realized that the old woman was in fact a member of The Purple Reign known as Marissa Covington, it was already too late. She dropped the grocery bags from her arms so that she could operate the taser in her hand more efficiently, jabbing it against Foulweather’s throat. That blast of electricity was all it took to drop Julius to the sidewalk and send him into a sudden unconsciousness…
A SHORT TIME LATER...
He would wake less than an hour later, propped up in the passenger seat of Marissa Covington’s car, only he no longer had foul thoughts on his mind. Instead, he found himself to be quite confused.
“What the fuck? What happened? Where the fuck am I?”
Marissa, now out of her old lady disguise, reached over to put a reassuring hand on Julius’ shoulder.
“Julius? Julius Fairweather? Is that you? Are you okay?”
He looked at Marissa with an expression of confusion, but upon seeing her face, those familiar suave thoughts began to emerge.
“Well, hello there, pretty momma. The only thing better than waking up next to you would be if we were buck-ass naked in the backseat.”
Marissa let out a relieved sigh upon hearing his response.
“Thank god. I wasn’t sure the taser would be strong enough to snap you out of it. We need to get you to the nearest Purple Reign safehouse as quickly as possible. I don’t know how long we have until you revert back into…your other half.”
The confusion returned to Julius’ face.
“Cupcake, it’s always good to see your lovely face, but I don’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about.”
“Julius, this is going to be a lot to take in. First, I need you to tell me the last thing you remember.”
He remained quiet for a moment, realizing that her question was more difficult to answer than it should be.
“Well, just little things here and there I guess, kinda like I’ve woken up from a motherfucking dream a few times. But the last thing that’s clear in my mind was being tied to a chair by some shady motherfucker. He was going on and on about secret societies and the Illuminati. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure that motherfucker sounded a lot like Ted Cruz.”
She nodded her head and continued to rest her hand on his shoulder.
“That’s right, Julius. That man then used an experimental device to electrocute you on national television.”
“Motherfucker…”
“The thing is…that was over two weeks ago…”
Julius stared at Marissa blankly for a few moments until suddenly…
“HA HA HA HA! That’s some funny shit, but you’re gonna have to do better than that to pull one over on Julius Fairweather.”
Marissa’s expression remained firm as she tightened her grip on his shoulder.
“Julius, this is no joke. You showed up on Fallout calling yourself Julius Foulweather and you powerbombed one of your opponents off the side of a cage…”
“I did? Wait…which one?”
“I don’t know wrestling that well, but I think it was Elena DeDraca…?”
The humored smile faded from Julius’ face.
“Fuck. Why in the hell would I do something like that? I like that bad bitch’s style! Are you sure it wasn’t Slade Castle? Maybe Druscilla White or Jacob Steele?”
“No, it was definitely Elena DeDraca. Besides, I think someone might have killed Jacob Steele during the match as well.”
Julius was quiet for several more moments before he finally nodded his head.
“Yeah, that seems legit. There’s always some motherfucking getting iced on that show. So…what else did this other version of me do?”
“Well, you just finished a new episode of The F’n Edge where you admitted to breaking a kitten's spine and drinking its blood...and…well…”
His eyes narrowed as he braced himself for the worst.
“And?”
“And you went out of your way to praise the members of the True Society.”
There was another brief pause until Julius suddenly flung the car door open and leaned outside to retch on the pavement. For a full minute, Julius gagged and spitted while leaning out of the car, as Marissa did her best to comfort him by patting him on the back. Finally, he wiped his chin with the back of his hand and pulled himself back into the seat.
“I knew I had a funny taste in my mouth…”
“Whatever The Illuminati did to you, it seems to have brought your darkest thoughts and desires to the surface. What’s worse, we may not have seen the full extent of their experiment’s effects. That’s why it’s so important that we get you to the nearest Purple Reign sanctuary so we can attempt to reverse the process before the shock I gave you starts to wear off…”
Suddenly, Julius sprung out of the car and slammed the door behind him. Marissa opened her own door and followed him as quickly as she could.
“No! No fucking way! First of all, I don’t believe in any motherfucking Illuminati bullshit! The True Society are the ones who tied me to that motherfucking chair to get me out of the way! There ain’t no way I’m letting you, Prince, or the great Betty White herself zap me with more electricity like I’m some kind of motherfucking science project!”
Marissa’s expression turned sad when she realized that she had more bad news to break…
“Julius…Betty White passed away on New Year’s Eve…”
This latest revelation caused Julius’ eyes to nearly bug out of their sockets, and for a few moments he was so grief-stricken that he was at a loss for words. Eventually he managed to stutter a response…
“That…That’s not true…that’s impossible…!”
“I’m so sorry, Julius. Just please come with me…”
“No way, pretty momma! If you decide it’s Julius’ duty to please that booty, give me a call. Otherwise, stay the hell away from me, you Scientology-loving psycho!”
Not giving her the chance to stop him, Julius ran off into the night and didn't look back. She considered chasing after him, but finally decided it would be a hopeless effort. As he vanished into the darkness, all Marissa could do was mutter to herself.
“...I was only into Scientology for a few months…”
LATER...
Before the effects of the taser had completely worn off, Julius had already booked an immediate flight back to Detroit. Convinced that the True Society were playing mind games with him, he was determined to resolve the issue before his next scheduled appearance on camera. A quick scan of his phone revealed that he and Slade Castle would be defending the Tag Team Titles against Percival Burque and Serrano Poblano, which put his mind somewhat at ease. At least, he thought, he would have an easy week as far as matches were concerned.
He didn’t have the first clue on how to track down Arik Holt but finding Slade Castle would be another matter entirely. They both lived in Detroit, and Julius had enough street contacts in the city to get a bead on his tag team partner. One way or another, Julius was prepared to get some answers.
Then, somewhere over the Midwest, the effects of Marissa’s taser finally wore off. At first, Julius Foulweather was confused as to why he was on an airplane, and he briefly considered breaking into the cabin and crashing the jet into a cornfield. After deciding that ending his own life would be counter-productive, he settled on sneaking into the Stewardess Station and urinating in the oversized coffee urn. The disgusted faces of his fellow passengers and the excessive use of vomit bags made the rest of his journey more tolerable.
After arriving in Detroit, Foulweather considered his options carefully. He thought it might be fun to go to his home and kick his saintly mother out of the house, or perhaps murder Joey Fatone by suffocating him in a toilet. Then, after a quick glance at his phone, Foulweather started to realize what his other self had been up to. He looked at the scheduled main event of Proving Ground and knew that recreational activities would have to wait. He needed to formulate a strategy with his tag team partner, and unlike Fairweather, Foulweather knew where to find him. Having trailed Castle to a boarded-up warehouse from the airport after the previous Fallout, Julius hailed a cab outside of the airport and told the driver exactly where to go.
After the short drive to a secluded part of the city, Julius paid his fare and went to work investigating the immediate area. His quick investigation led to a side entrance, where he found a rusted padlock lying broken on the ground. With a satisfied grin, he pushed the door open and made his way inside. From there, all he had to do was follow the sound of voices until he emerged in Slade Castle’s living area. He continued to watch, as Castle held a pair of metal chopsticks over the knee of a sobbing Serrano Poblano, who had been tied to a chair.
SERRANO: I don’t know who that is man, c’mon please! Don’t do this! I just wanted to talk about my issues!
Slade begins to bring the hammer down, not happy with the answer. He hesitates. Something about Serrano's words is able to reach Slade before he can finish applying his devilish methods. Slade drops the hammer.
SLADE: I… I’m sorry Serrano. You just caught me at a bad time.
FOULWEATHER: Bad time indeed. I was hoping to see you finish. What a shame.
SLADE: What in the…
Slade turns around when he is greeted by the sight of Julius Foulweather in the doorway of the kitchen. The shock causes him to release the hammer in his hand and it falls directly onto Serrano's toe. Serrano bites his lip, trying to not attract more attention to himself.
FOULWEATHER: You seem surprised to see me, Slade? We are partners, aren’t we? Of course I know where your secret lair is. How could I not? Now then, shall I continue where you left off?
A wicked smile crosses Julius’s face as he begins to approach the two.
SLADE: Nah, man. I’m starting to think this whole thing is just a big misunderstanding. It might be better if we just let him go…
FOULWEATHER: Nonsense. If this poor excuse of a man has fallen into our laps, who are we to ignore fate’s divine influence?
SLADE: What? I don’t even know what that shit means. Look, Julius, I don’t know if this is some kind of act you’re pulling to screw with True Society or if you’re really fucked up in the head, but…
Julius stops in his tracks and glares at his partner when he expresses his thoughts.
FOULWEATHER: You doubt my conviction? Very well, I’ll just have to prove myself to you firsthand.
Julius turns back toward the kitchen, taking a moment to look around. He spots the open drawers and makes his way over to them, reaching in to pull out a fork in each hand.
FOULWEATHER: Yes, these shall do nicely.
He then turns back toward Serrano and quickly walks toward him.
SERRANO: Whoa, daddio! Is this some kind of motherforking joke? Heh…get it? MotherFORKing…
FOULWEATHER: Oh, I assure you, when these instruments are being pried underneath your fingernails, you’ll know that it’s no laughing matter.
Slade shakes his head as Julius moves one of the forks toward Serrano’s bound hand, still unsure if what they are doing is necessary.
SLADE: C’mon, man. You don’t need to prove yourself to me, alright? He’s not worth the trouble…
The tips of the fork begin to press underneath the fingernail of Serrano’s middle finger, when Julius’ sinister smile is suddenly interrupted by a voice from the other side of the room.
??: Stop! No friend of mine will be tortured today, or my name isn’t…
Slade and Julius both turn their attention to the doorway, their eyes falling on the painted face of Percival Burque.
PERCIVAL: Ratman! Wrestling Supreme!
As a huge smile comes over Serrano’s face, Julius stares at this new arrival with confusion, and Slade can only shake his head in disbelief.
SLADE: I’m gonna need a new safehouse…
TO BE CONCLUDED!!!
