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+--- Thread: Fixin' It (/showthread.php?tid=50522)
Fixin' It - (Gravy_Xtreme_5000) - 09-24-2026
LOCATION: THE BONEYARD
Snip.
Snip.
SNNNNNNIP.
Micheal Graves was hunched over the table with his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he turned the cardboard slightly.
Snip.
He stopped, squinted, then snipped another tiny piece away.
"Motherfucker."
He reached for the roll of duct tape.
RRRRRRRRIIIIP!
Graves pulled nearly three feet of tape from the roll, bit through it, and carefully lowered it toward whatever he was working on, but then the loose end twisted and folded onto itself.
"GODDAMNIT, NO!"
He frantically pulled at the tape as a hand reached into view and rested on his shoulder. He froze and slowly looked up to see Emily standing beside him with one eyebrow raised.
"What's that?"
Graves immediately pulled the project close to his chest.
"Nothin'."
Emily looked at him.
"Dad..."
"Classified."
"What are you making?"
"Government project."
"With cardboard?"
"Trump's all about them budget cuts."
Emily reached around him, but Graves spun away in the chair.
"HEY!"
"What is it?"
Graves sighed and pointed across the room to where the XWF Universal Championship sat on a folding chair.
"What about it?"
Graves glared at the belt.
"Damned thing is heavy."
"Of course it's heavy, it's THE championship belt."
"Yeah, and you'd think after what I went through to get the goddamn thing, the prize wouldn't be spinal compression and joint pain."
Emily blinked as Graves pointed even harder at the Uni.
"Look at it! Big thirty pound hunk of metal. Leather thick enough to stop a bullet. Sammy's stupid fuckin' face. The fuck's it need all that shit for?"
"To look like a championship... though you should probably get one without Dyson's face on it."
"Workin' on it."
Another strip of duct tape.
RRRRRRRRRIP!
Emily stared at him for moment, then shook her head.
"You're coming with me."
Graves didn't look up.
"Nope."
"We need to train."
"Already did."
"All you did was hit a heavy bag for twenty minutes."
"Yeah? Well the bag learned its lesson."
"Right! Good warm up! Now, we're grappling."
The scissors stopped and Graves slowly turned his head.
"No."
"Dad."
"Don't like it."
"That's exactly why you need to do it."
"I'm the Universal Champion. I feel like bein' Universal Champion should come with certain privileges."
"Such as?"
"Not doin' shit I don't wanna do!"
Emily folded her arms with an unimpressed look.
"Charlie Nickles isn't a strong technical wrestler."
Graves just shrugged.
"Great."
"So that's where you should attack him."
"No."
"No?"
"It's a Street Fight, darlin'. I'm gonna hit him. Then he's gonna hit me. Then we're gonna grab whatever's nearby that ain't technically a weapon and beat each other with it until somebody decides it was a weapon after all."
Graves smiled as he continued to work on his project.
"Gravy rules!"
"Charlie's rules."
Graves' grin disappeared.
"What?"
"That's his kind of match too."
Graves looked offended.
"Are you sayin' Charlie Nickles is more Xtreme than me?"
"No."
"Sounded like it."
"I'm saying he's very good at getting and giving hurt."
Graves scoffed.
"So am I."
"I know."
"Better."
"Dad."
"Way better."
"You're tough as nails."
Graves nodded.
"Thank you."
"But you're not immortal anymore."
"Debatable."
"You don't heal like Deadpool and Wolverine anymore. That means you could get injured... or worse."
Graves frowned.
"I never liked that comparison."
"Yeah, but you regenerated organs."
"Deadpool's ugly. Wolverine's short."
"Dad."
"I'm taller than both of 'em, you know?"
Emily rubbed her forehead.
"The point is, there's a limit now."
Graves laughed at the idea.
"Emily, your uncle Sean slit my fuckin' throat."
"I know."
"Shot."
"I know."
"Buried alive."
"Dad."
"Most of my bones have seen sunlight."
"Dad."
"Had people open me up and take shit that belonged inside me."
"Dad."
"Froze to death in space."
"...You froze to death in space?"
"Yeah."
Emily stared while Graves thought about it.
"Actually, that one didn't really hurt."
"What?"
"Freezin' just made me numb. Didn't really hurt until they resuscitated me after reentry. Then it hurt like a motherfucker for a few hours."
"Dad!"
Graves threw his hands up.
"What!?"
"You're proving my point."
"I'm proving I'm hard to fuckin' kill!"
"You used to be impossible to kill."
"Still ain't easy."
"No. But Charlie doesn't need to kill you. He just needs to hurt you worse than you can hurt him."
Graves' smile faded slightly.
"Charlie Nickles killed his own daughter!"
Graves looked up at her.
"Robyn Gonzalez, dad, he killed her."
Emily stepped closer and placed a hand on Graves shoulder.
"And after he did it, he wrapped what happened to her into everything that championship meant to him. Her death. Everything he'd done. It all became part of the reason he needed to become Universal Champion.
That's what you're dealing with. Not somebody playing crazy because it makes people uncomfortable."
She pointed toward him.
"A guy who can convince himself that ANYTHING is worth it if it gets him where he needs to go.
He'll destroy everyone around him.
Even when they're family."
Graves' brow furrowed.
"I forgot how fuckin' far he went over this thing..."
She followed his eyes to the Universal title.
"The Universal Championship was part of the obsession, yes."
Graves slowly nodded.
"Huh... So, where's his?"
"...What?"
"His Universal Championship."
Graves pointed toward his own.
"I got mine."
"Dad."
"He killed his daughter, turned it into some kinda fucked up motivational poster, chased the belt for years..."
Graves looked around the room.
"Where's his fuckin' belt?"
"That's not the point."
"Feels a little like the point, Emily."
"He did eventually win it!"
"Yeah, and now I got it!"
Emily stared at Graves as he raised both hands.
"I'm not sayin' killin' your kid ain't commitment!"
"Jesus Christ."
"That's Xtreme commitment! Capital X!"
Emily shook her head.
"Maybe three X's!"
"Dad."
He looked back toward the championship.
"But after all that... I'm the motherfucker walking into this match with it."
"That doesn't make him less dangerous."
"Didn't say it did."
"It should make you more careful."
Graves didn't answer, so Emily stepped directly in front of him.
"So let me ask you something."
Graves looked up.
"Could you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Kill me."
He blinked as Emily nodded toward the Universal Championship.
"If that's what it took to keep that."
"Well..."
Emily's eyes widened.
"Dad!?"
"I'm thinkin'!"
"You should not need to think about this!"
"Well, it depends when you're askin'!"
"What does that even mean?"
"If you'd asked me before you were real..."
Emily's jaw dropped.
"I'd probably said yeah."
"I WAS ALWAYS REAL!"
"Not to me!"
"I existed!"
"I DIDN'T KNOW!"
Emily glared at him.
"Look, that's not comin' out right."
"No shit."
He sighed.
"No..."
Emily waited.
Graves rolled his eyes.
"No, Emily. I couldn't. All I ever wanted was family. Parents died. Sean left me. Then tried to kill me. Wife and kids were a fuckin' figment of my imagination... Now you're here. I'm pretty sure you're real."
"I'M REAL!"
"Right, but you'd still say that even if you weren't."
"Dad!"
"Listen, real or not. I love ya, kid. You're probably the best thing I ever had a hand in creating. I wouldn't trade you for all the championships in the world."
"Good... and my point was that you have something Charlie doesn't."
"Better daughter?"
"...I'll allow it."
Graves smiled.
"But you also have a stopping point."
The smile faded.
"I'm not sure Charlie does."
Emily held out her hand.
"So stop trying to prove you're crazier than him."
The smile fully morphed into a frown.
"I don't like that lesson."
"I know."
"Makes me sound less Xtreme."
"It makes you more human."
"Even worse. Never liked humans."
"Come on."
Graves looked back at his cardboard project, then reluctantly stood.
"Fine."
SHORTLY LATER...
in the ring
Emily shot in and caught his leg.
Graves shifted his weight, turned his hip, caught her wrist, and managed to keep himself upright long enough to force a break.
Emily stepped back and Graves smiled.
"You keep makin' that face."
"What face?"
"That 'my idiot father ain't completely useless' face."
"I don't have that face."
"You got that face right now."
She circled him and shot in again, faking low.
He almost bit, but then caught what she was doing and stepped clear, grabbed her by the waist, and yanked her backward off balance.
Emily tried to turn through it, but Graves stayed attached.
She reached for his wrist, but he shifted his grip, hooked a leg around hers, then dumped her onto the mat.
Before she could scramble free, Graves trapped one arm against her chest and dropped his weight across her hips.
Emily stopped.
"Since when can you do that?"
Graves shrugged.
"Dunno."
"You used to suck at grappling."
"Still do."
"No..."
Emily looked mildly annoyed to admit it.
"You're... decent."
His face lit up.
"HA!"
"I said decent."
Emily folded her arms.
"Seriously. Where did that come from?"
"Maybe that other me."
"What?"
"Back when them fuckin' clowns carved me up and stole all my organs, I couldn't do shit for a while. Couldn't train. Couldn't fight. Couldn't even take a proper shit."
"Ew."
"Anyway... watched him wrestle as me a lot..."
Graves looked down at his hands.
"Guess maybe some shit stuck."
Graves turned and started walking away.
"Where are you going?"
"Back to work."
"We're not done."
Graves stopped and slowly turned back.
"You said I'm decent."
"That doesn't mean you're good."
"Yeah? Well, decent's better than Charlie."
"We still need to train."
"Nah."
"Dad."
Graves kept walking toward the workbench as Emily followed.
"And if decent ain't good enough for Charlie, I guess we find out how Xtreme he really is when I side-shot the fat bastard in the fuckin' throat with a chair."
He picked up the scissors.
Snip.
Snip.
"There."
Graves held his creation up.
Cardboard.
Duct tape.
Lots of staples.
UNIVERSAL CHAMP had been written across the front in black letters along with Graves name.
Emily just stared at it.
"...That's what you've been making?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Lightweight. Durable. Affordable."
"It's cardboard."
"Exactly."
He wrapped it around his waist.
"Perfect fit!"
"It looks terrible."
"Jealousy!"
"Of a cardboard belt that's insulting to anyone who ever wore the real one?"
"Of innovation."
Emily looked toward the real Universal Championship then back to Graves cardboard imitation.
"Please tell me you're not going to walk onto Warfare wearing that?"
"Maybe."
"People are going to call you a paper champion."
Graves grinned.
"Ohhhh... I like that. Call me a paper champion."
"No."
"C'mon, I got a line!"
Emily walked away and Graves looked back down at the cardboard belt.
"Paper champion? Find out how deep paper cuts!"
He nodded to himself.
"That's a good line."
Emily looked back.
"It really isn't."
"You're still mad I'm decent at grappling!"
"I'm mad that you heard 'decent' and decided your training was finished."
"Because it is."
"You are wrestling Charlie Nickles."
"I'm street fightin' Charlie Nickles."
"Same Charlie."
"Exactly!"
Graves spotted the XWF CamBot hovering overhead.
"And that's the funniest part."
Graves reached beneath the workbench and dragged out an old plastic storage tote. B.O.B. had been spray-painted across the side years ago, though most of the paint had chipped away.
(01-22-2022, 11:59 PM)Charlie Nickles Said: When we meet in that graveyard next Sunday night Gravy is going to be trying to take my championship belt: but I'm going to be trying to take Gravy's life. Let's see who succeeds.
"Save your breath, Charlie.
You've been sellin' me the same fuckin' story for years. Back in 2022 you dug three graves for me. Told everybody I might not leave the cemetery alive. Said I was coming for your championship while you were coming for my life.
And here I am.
Four years later.
Still fuckin' alive and still listenin' to Charlie Nickles explain how dangerous Charlie Nickles is."
Graves popped the lid and pulled out an old black T-shirt. He unfolded it, looked at whatever was printed across the front, then tossed it over his shoulder.
"You like tellin' people what beatin' Charlie Nickles does for somebody, right? Just eat that shit up. You told Francis that shit. Beat Charlie Nickles and suddenly everybody looks at you different. Career changin'.
For some people, sure...
But could you imagine if you beat me?
Holy fuck.
Charlie Nickles beat the guy who walked outta Relentless with the biggest championship in the company. Charlie Nickles is back! Charlie deserves another shot! Charlie belongs at the top!
Every fuckin' thing you've spent this year tryin' to prove gets handed to you in one night.
Me?
I beat you and I go home still Universal Champion and still the guy Charlie Nickles needed to beat so people would start talkin' about him the way he likes again.
You need this to mean more than I do.
I'm already where you're tryin' to get back to."
Another shirt came out. Graves stared at an old picture of himself printed across the chest.
"Jesus Christ!"
"What?"
"Old me... you don't wanna see."
He immediately threw the 'Lady Gravy' T-shirt in the trash.
"That's the other difference between us.
You keep diggin’ around lookin’ for the old Charlie Nickles.
Motherfucker, you see me lookin' for the old Micheal Graves?
Fuck that guy!
He had talent. Had opportunities. Had people handin' him chances most guys would kill for, and he'd piss half of 'em down his leg because he couldn't decide whether he wanted to be a monster, a comedian, a champion, or the asshole gettin' escorted outta the building.
I don't wanna prove I can still be him.
Why the fuck would I?
I finally became the motherfucker he should've been!
You keep tryin' to recover your peak... I surpassed mine!"
Graves nodded toward the real Universal Championship sitting across the room.
"There's the receipt.
The fans love receipts, right? Well, that thing right there. You bled for it... Obsessed over it...
Wrapped so much of your fuckin' life around winnin' it, that somewhere along the way it stopped bein' a championship and turned into your own fuckin' ~PRECIOUS~!
Years hunched over, whisperin' about how much the fuckin' thing meant to you.
And now I'm standin' here wearin' cardboard because the real one's hurtin' my fuckin' back.
You spent years actin' like that belt was gonna answer every fuckin' question you ever had about yourself.
Me?
I got mine after I already quit askin'."
Graves reached deeper into the tote and pulled out an old photo. He squinted at it.
"And what the fuck did you do with your year anyway?
Oh yeah.
Everett-Bryce."
He looked toward Emily.
"Not that one. The Blacque Sheep one with the different name....
Jordan Penis?"
"Dad!"
"You spent most of your year playin' with Sebastian Everett-Bryce's brother. Tryin' to convince everybody the spare Everett-Bryce was some gigantic fuckin' thing because he happened to be the Everett-Bryce standin' in front of Charlie Nickles.
Me?
I found Sebastian. Didn't need a family tree. Didn't need six months of personal shit to make the match feel important. Everybody already knew which brother mattered.
So I charged him.
Then I charged him again.
And somewhere in there, I ended up Universal Champion.
You spent your year tryin' to convince everybody the wrong Everett-Bryce mattered and I spent mine fightin' the one nobody had to explain."
Graves tossed the photograph aside and continued digging.
"That's your trick, though.
You can make anything sound enormous if you scream about it long enough.
A grudge becomes a blood war. A guy becomes your mortal enemy. A match becomes the most important night of somebody's life because Charlie Nickles said so.
And sometimes it works.
Hell, sometimes —I— buy in.
But eventually you gotta pull the camera back.
Then there's Charlie makin' everything around him sound like the end of the fuckin' world while somebody else is quietly climbin' over him.
That's what happened this year.
You spent all year makin' your little corner loud as fuck.
Meanwhile I took the whole goddamn room!
That's why this ain't me sayin' you can't fight.
You can.
I'm just finally figurin' out how much of Charlie Nickles is actually there once you turn the fuckin' volume down.
And from where I'm standin'?
You ain't as fuckin' big as you sound."
Graves stopped digging and pulled an old folded banner from the tote.
He shook it open.
![[Image: 5MfqMTO.png]](https://i.imgur.com/5MfqMTO.png)
"Oh, hey.
Somethin' else I was apparently never part of."
"Oh no."
"Apparently Charlie Nickles decided I was never B.O.B. Never was. Never will be.
That's fuckin' wild.
Cause I remember B.O.B.
I remember recruitin' people. I remember spray paintin' JOIN BOB on motherfuckers. I remember Fury and me callin' ourselves the elite of the whole fuckin' thing.
Those seem like strange memories for somebody who was never there."
Graves spread the banner across the workbench.
"You don't even get to pretend you heard this story wrong. You were there too. You remember that version of B.O.B. You fuckin' should. They dropped outta the sky on your ass. Blimp. Jetpacks. Bobby powerbombin' your ass through the X-Tron while Fury laughed from above.
Real subtle organization, we were...
You got your ass kicked by the history you're tryin' to rewrite.
Then later you were runnin' around talkin' about how much you hated B.O.B. while still takin' whatever B.O.B. could do for Charlie Nickles.
Now suddenly you're the curator.
This guy counts. That guy don't. Fury counts when Charlie says she counts. Graves never counted because Charlie says so.
Fuck outta here.
You rewrite history to make yourself taller."
Graves reached into the tote and found an old can of spray paint.
Neon lime green.
"What are you doing?"
"Restoration."
"That isn't restoration."
"History's complicated."
He shook the can.
CHK-CHK-CHK-CHK.
Then sprayed across the old banner with the same wizardry as a master aerosol artist.
![[Image: RLZ8Ifd.png]](https://i.imgur.com/RLZ8Ifd.png)
"There.
Better.
Charlie can keep Brotherhood of Bastards. We had Brotherhood of Baddies when I was around anyway. Stupid fuckin' name, but at least it was ours.
Now?
Boneyard's Original Bastards.
And before you get your tits twisted, Charlie, I ain't askin' permission.
You wanted to erase me from it? Fine.
I'm takin' the letters with me.
You can keep the Brotherhood.
You always did need other people around to make your shit feel bigger."
"Why green?"
"Cause it's obnoxious. You can see it from space. If I'm stealin' an acronym, I want every-fuckin'-body to notice."
Graves tossed the spray can onto the table and started folding the banner.
Then suddenly stopped as a thought hit him like a steel chair.
"Shit. This is what Charlie's been doin' to me since he got here..."
"What? Folding you?"
"NO... Tryin' to make me smaller."
Graves looked back into the tote.
"First fuckin' month he was in XWF, I put out an open challenge, and here comes Charlie Nickles. Dumb fuck didn't even know where catering was yet and he was already explainin' my career to me.
I told you I'd remember that shit."
Graves slowly pulled out a folded, yellowed scrap of paper and opened it.
(08-18-2020, 08:34 PM)Charlie Nickles Said: "You know I would take you up on this offer just to take you out of this industry for good, but I've already got a title shot lined up for the show. When I win the strap, maybe I'll let you challenge for it. How long have you gone without challenging for a real belt, anyways? Your buddy's little made up belt doesn't count."
"I'll remember that pal!"
"Ha! Found it!"
"You've kept that for six years?"
"Apparently."
"That's weird."
"Nah. You know what this means, Charlie? It ain't destiny.
It ain't some blood feud I've been carryin' around in my heart for six years.
It means you mattered just enough for me to write your name down...
...and not enough for me to remember where I put it.
That's the size of Charlie Nickles in my story.
A fuckin' reminder I misplaced.
Meanwhile, you spent six years becoming exactly the guy you told me you were gonna become.
Champion.
Main eventer.
Dangerous bastard.
Good! Now you're finally big enough for me to finish the conversation.
You spent six years becoming important enough to finally get the match you were too busy for.
Cause you didn't outgrow me, Charlie. The guy you looked down at outgrew you, and I wasn't chasin' you, lookin' for revenge, or countin' the days...
I forgot.
You were buried underneath old T-shirts, B.O.B. garbage, and memories I don't even want anymore.
Six years later, I open the box and there you are like a fuckin' time capsule"
Graves folded the paper and tucked it behind the faceplate of his cardboard championship.
"And there's one more thing I remember.
You made sure to tell me my buddy's little made up championship didn't count."
He looked down.
"Well this one's definitely made up. I made it this mornin'.
Funny thing, though. Our match ain't even gonna be for that.
Which is fuckin' stupid.
Charlie told me six years ago if he won himself a real championship, maybe he'd let me challenge for it."
"You are not putting the Universal Championship on the line in an unsanctioned street fight because Charlie Nickles insulted you six years ago."
"I'm not."
"Good."
"I'm puttin' it on the line because he ain't takin' it."
"Dad!"
"What?"
"You just spent all this time admitting how dangerous he is."
"Yeah.
Dangerous ain't better.
Charlie might bust me open. Crack another rib. Make me regret every stupid decision that led to this...
...and that's a crowded fuckin' list!
But. He. Ain't. Takin'. THIS!
Your whole thing is how much shit you're willing to throw away just to prove you're Charlie fuckin' Nickles.
Me?
Took me long enough, but I finally figured out there's some shit I ain't supposed to lose.
My family, my fuckin' head, and this championship.
That's why seeing your name across from mine don't scare me the way you think it should. You're still proving how much Charlie Nickles can survive. I spent most of my career survivin'.
Now Gravy wins.
So here's that real championship match you were gonna be generous enough to give me someday.
Only took six years.
And you still got the roles backwards.
You wanted to know when I'd challenge for a real belt, Charlie?
Wrong fuckin' question.
You should've been wonderin' when I'd let you challenge for mine."
'Dark Warrior' Micheal Graves © - vs - Charlie Nickles FOR THE UNIVERSAL TITLE! UNSANCTIONED STREET FIGHT |
"You're fuckin' welcome!"