Sometime in the past, present, or future, Jennie Nickles sits inside the new yet-to-be-named faction clubhouse, chewing on the end of an ink pen while deep in thought over the last question in the crossword puzzle she’s been exercising the old brain with.

“HA! What’s this shit?” Jenny Myst’s guffawing breaks Jennie from her puzzle.

The barked laugh cuts through the room like broken glass.

Jenny Myst leans against the counter nearby, scrolling on her phone, already halfway into a rant.

“That’s not even revisionist history—that’s straight-up fanfiction,” Myst snaps. “She didn’t reclaim anything. She didn’t transcend anything. She got beat, rewrote the loss, and wrapped it in fake enlightenment like that makes it profound.”

She looks up, eyes burning.

“I put her down before she figured out what her gimmick was. I’ll do it again before she figures out what her excuse is.”

Nickles lowers the puzzle book, nodding slowly.

“She was desperate, Jenny. The poor girl had to fill a vignette quota, so she stuffed it with nonsense and hoped confidence would do the rest. You kicked her ass once. You’ll do it again. Easy.”

Myst smirks—but it’s the dangerous kind, the one that means she’s already three moves ahead.

“Or,” she says lightly, “I don’t.”

Nickles’ pen freezes mid-air.

Myst continues, casual, almost bored. “What if I lie down. What if I let you pin me.”

The Nicklechick’s eyes bloom wide.

“Oh,” she breathes, a grin spreading. If she does this, it'll knock off six months of her prison sentence. “You’re about to be hated more than you can imagine if you do this."

Jenny finally smiles for real.

“Good.”

She pushes off the counter and scurries across the room to a floor-to-ceiling drawer door, yanks it open, and pulls out an on-demand referee like she’s retrieving a household appliance. She drags him to the center of the room and drops flat onto her back.

“Count it, ref-a-roo,” Myst demands.

The Nicklechick hesitates.

“Wait… I think technically I’m supposed to attack you.”

Myst waves it off.

“Finger-poke of doom me then.”

Nickles shakes her head. “Nah. We already did that once. They’ll try to loophole it and nullify it. Gotta be cleaner.”

She looks down at her crossword puzzle, eyes lighting up.

“Oh. Got it.”

She reads aloud, mock-dramatic: “What did the five fingers say to the face?”

Before Myst can answer—

SLAP.

It’s loud. Sharp. Technically, an attack. Not enough to hurt—just enough to qualify.
Nickles drops for the cover.

1

2

—

“WAIT. WAIT—WAIT WAIT WAIT!”

Jenny bolts upright, palms out.

“FIRST,” she snaps, breathless but grinning, “I wanna say fuck you to everyone here—except you guys. Okay. Had to get that off my perfect chest. Spared no expense.”

She stands now, pacing in front of the ref.

“SECOND. Game Girl said some things in her little piece that were categorically untrue. Yes, I’ve won this belt four times. Which means I’ve lost it three. But never because of this 24/7 bullshit."

Quote:“What do you feel when you have been a wrestler since 2017 who loves to lord over others with their wins and title reigns but has had more losses than most anyone, with title reigns that end in disappointment, how many X-Treme titles have you won only for them to be taken away with a carefree pin from the likes of John Black days before you go on a show?”

“Actually, none. Cute roast though. Maybe comedy central has a job for you after the PPV. Check your facts first metal-mouth. Also......I have more wins than losses in total, by a good double digits. Are you always this dull or are your batteries in need of a good shaking?"

She points to herself.

“And she said, wait for THIS tidbit of unadulterated shit—and I quote—‘I don’t need titles. I don’t need to win.’”

Jenny scoffs.

“Cool. Then you won’t mind if I do this………...”

She stops pacing. Looks directly at Nickles.

“And since I’m here in an advisory role, I’m gonna teach a master class in gaming the system, mmkay?”

A grin and a perfect hair flip.

“You don’t have to worry about a title you don’t want. Because like the Buffalo Bills—your window is closed.”

Jenny turns, drops back to the floor without hesitation, folds her arms over her chest, and grins up at her namesake.

“Tell Maud I’ll see her on the flip side.

Do it.”

Nickles doesn’t hesitate this time.

She covers.

The ref drops.

1

2

—

The clubhouse holds its breath.

And the lesson lands.

“Wow,” GG speaks in an unimpressed monotone. “What a swerve, nobody saw this coming.”

She gives a sigh, “It’s a shame, honestly. I thought your promo against me was really good, for once. A bit repetitive maybe but I can’t talk lol. You say how much you’ve grown and changed in yours, how you’re not the same but I kept the same old “gimmick” in your words. It’s refreshing to see that you’re not only still a massive hypocrite but still the same old coward.”

“This time doubling up on yourself, usually when you know you lost a match you just attack someone on Twitter or the XWF website but this time, you’re actually pulling a full-on tantrum and giving away the belt just before our match!”

“Even when I said you losing it on a carefree pin wasn’t correct before, it’s the truth now Jenny. So thank you for proving me right” :)

Game Girl sits down with her legs crossed.

“And you rope in Jennie Nickels, someone who I said was you but better, to do it! Is that ironic? Is it poetic? All I know is that this whole situation-” GG waves her palm around with a squint. “It's just sad.” She drops her hand back on her knee. “Your entire promo Jenny was about how you controlled the game in the XWF, how patches came, updates downloaded a bunch of other cute metaphors that you didn’t implement very well because your IQ is like your win/loss ratio. In the negatives.”

She puts a hand to her mouth in a whisper, “Also, patches don’t download on their own mid-match, that’s stupid.”

She continues normally, “But you made yourself out to be this constant. This person who mastered the game and was adored by all, which is just lying to yourself, and you said when you left you kept watching us… Me. You said that and you said to me how I never saw you.”

“And I’ve clocked you so hard, Jenny, you pull this crud.”

“While you think I’m still the naive string of code that never grew, never learned, never got better.”

“But I’ve got you so worried about losing you try this.”

Game Girl shakes her head, not out of anger, but unbridled disappointment.

“And you rope in both Nickles’ who seem to not want to be here, who can see how weak this is, one just parrots whatever you want to say and like a black hole of anti-charisma (remember that line?) you’ve drawn them in and made them as stagnant and boring as yourself.”

“I know you better than you know yourself, Jenny. And that is genuinely really sad because I don’t pay a great deal of attention to you, I mean I can’t get my facts straight on you apparently.”

“I see you as the terrified little child with a plastic tiara you are; forcing herself to win matches with her cuddly toys. But I’m not a toy, Jenny, I’m not one of your playthings. I’m not in your narrative. I run against it.”

“And I will continue to, until the day I die or you leave the XWF for good.”

“I don’t care about my wins or losses, I don’t want to win every title in the world to validate myself. I want to try my best. I want to prove people like you wrong, I want to upset you, I want you to feel the soul-crushing defeat you deserve. I want you to lose that title you never won, you’re too scared to put on the line, I want you to lose it to me on Snow Pain, Snow Gain in front of a crowd of people reminding YOU that you never grew out of the edgy little crybaby you have been and always will be since 2017.”

Game Girl stands to her feet, her eyes pointed down.

“Even if this farce works. It doesn’t matter. It won’t stop me from making you a joke, making you throw another tantrum, from pushing your face in the dirt. As I said days ago, my job is to beat up bad guys, taking the title from you and deflating your ego is just the cherry on top.”

“And I will be here.”

“The constant.”

“Doing just that.”

“Over and over.”

“Until the cycle finally breaks and one of us is gone for good.”

GG breaks the pin by spinning Jennie Nickles around like Bowser and throwing her.

"JENNY MYST, GO THE FUCK AWAY."

Love, Sam Dyson

Was this a long winded kick out or did Samuel Dyson give you lessons in whining without saying anything?

So my promo was good, but then my idea for patches was stupid? PICK A LANE CYBORG! You're literally contradicting yourself.....funny, that's what they used to dog me for. Pot, meet perfect pink kettle.

Also....

You realize you are supposed to kick out in the original attempt, yes? I thought your internal clock would have set off alarm bells when you realize 5 minutes later doesn't actually count.



So therefore.....



NO BELT FOR YOU!!!!!



Jenny wins, again.



See you in Vostok, gearhead!

"Wow, you are dumb."

Says the one who fried a circuit cutting a promo only for it not to count for anything but jabberjaw.

Sure am.