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Post by moonchild on Oct 15, 2019 16:52:52 GMT -5
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Post by moonchild on Oct 15, 2019 16:56:15 GMT -5
Written by Vastrix
Twisted Machinations
Jeremiah Vastrix starts to sit up, catching sight of Valora. He has every intention of congratulating her when he sees her flipping him the bird and letting him know how he sold out.
Jeremiah clenches his fists as he sits on the mat and watches Valora Salinas celebrate her title win. She thinks that she's going to lead a rebellion. A movement that can only bring about death and misery for many, but she should know that.
Jeremiah waves off the referee who checks to see if he needs help getting up. He stands up with a growl and begins to head backstage, ignoring the crowd booing him for his failure.
He heads straight back to the private suite where Rupert Mudcock and Robert Eliyistos sit while watching Valora celebrate her win with looks of distaste. They jump when Jeremiah slams the door behind him.
RUPERT MUDCOCK: Have you come to apologize for your failure? Have you come to beg to keep your job? No worries, I'll stand.
Rupert rises up from his easy chair to allow Jeremiah the chance to beg, but he crosses the room in a few strides. Instead of begging on his knees to keep his job, Jeremiah slugs Rupert across the jaw hard enough to send him back into the chair and tip the chair backwards to lay on the floor.
Robert Eliyistos jumps to his feet, readying his fists for a fight.
ROBERT ELIYISTOS: You can't do that to Rupert!
Jeremiah kicks Robert in the gut, clutches at the back of his neck, and smashes his face into the table of snack food and booze, splitting it in half. He rounds on Rupert as he tries to roll out of the easy chair.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: What the fuck were you thinking? Hmmm? Did you really think I was going to toe the fucking company line? That was some bullshit out there that you pulled.
Rupert Mudcock manages to roll over, grabbing his cell phone as he does so. He dials a number and shouts as he rises to his feet.
RUPERT MUDCOCK: Get security here now! Vastrix is trying to kill me!
Security guards rush into the room and grab Jeremiah by the arms to hold him. Rupert walks over to him with a sneer, his left eye already turning black and puffy.
RUPERT MUDCOCK: You'll toe whatever line I want you too! If you can't do what you are told, I can have your corpse delivered to your father in Hong Kong!
Jeremiah attempts to shrug, but the guards hold him still.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: And perhaps at this time my father will wax paternal and have you shot in the face. You know he goes back and forth from being perfectly fine to mental. I can see you want to risk. Cut me now and roll the fucking dice! Come on, fat boy. Do it!
Rupert Mudcock stares at Jeremiah for a long time as if deciding what to do with him. He glances over to where Robert is just starting to stir...and licking the booze from the floor.
RUPERT MUDCOCK: I'll decide what to do with Jeremiah later. Get him out of my sight!
The guards start to drag Jeremiah, but he stomps on a foot to get one release him so he can use his free arm to pop the other in the side of the head. He turns back to the first, lifting him up as if for a press slam, and sends him face first into the wall.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: I know my own way out. Thanks.
FBI Office in Los Angeles, California
"God's Gift" Jeremiah Vastrix sits across a desk from Archie Wise, FBI lead for the Los Angeles area. Archie eyes Jeremiah with a healthy air of distrust, his eyes going to the patch over Jeremiah's missing eye.
ARCHIE WISE: What do I have the honor for this visit? Do you have new info to share with me about the attack in Las Vegas?
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: I shared everything that I knew with agents Harold Avery and Claudia Warren. I know that Atalar Robotics denied having such technology or what Gizer Sarp was going to do. I have something that can change all of this.
Archie just shrugs his shoulders.
ARCHIE WISE: We are working on getting search warrants for the entire company, but it seems as if we hit brick walls at every turn. It's as if the Warhammer Corporation is untouchable.
Jeremiah just grins, reaches into an inside pocket, and produces a stack of documents. He slides these over to Archie.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: I went to Director Sebastian Jalabert of Warhammer North America to buy the shares of Atalar Robotics that he owns. As you know, to become a member of the Warhammer Corporation, you must surrender fifty-one percent of your company to another member. Sebastian had a better idea. I am here on behalf of Sebastian Jalabert to donate the shares of Atalar Robotics to the United States of America. This way you will need no search warrants to investigate your own properties. Also...
Archie watches with wide eyes as Jeremiah flips up his eye patch to reveal the hollow eye socket that's lined with the tech needed to interact with a cybernetic eye replacement. He reaches in and pulls out a small flash drive.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: All their computer files have been copied here along with all of their security info that you will need to bring every one of these criminals to justice. There are files for everyone involved in the attack in Las Vegas and for robbing the town of Sharnwick blind for years.
Archie looks at the paperwork, eyeing the flash drive with a vague sense of disgust for having come from inside of Jeremiah's body.
ARCHIE WISE: I will have these sent over to the capitol at once. Thank you for your help. You won't regret it.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: You let me know when you want to do the raid. Warhammer Security onsite will help us and I can have people with me to help on site.
Archie stands up with a smile, shaking Jeremiah's hand as he also rises up.
ARCHIE WISE: Thank you for your help once again. I will be sure to let you know what's going on.
Reno, Nevada Outside of the Atalar Robotics Main Facility
Jeremiah Vastrix stands out in front of the checkpoint with two score Shocktroopers in white carapace armor. Archie Wise, Harold Avery, and Claudia Warren are with them along with another dozen agents.
All that stands between them and the facility is a guard shack with a bored expression. Jeremiah Vastrix walks to the door of the shack, his mask in place with a blue glow emanating from his replaced eye. The guard looks at Jeremiah, his expression emotionless.
GUIARD: I have taken the liberty of contacting the person you will want to speak with. He's on his way out now.
Jeremiah looks to Archie, who just shrugs.
A small cushman cart comes from an open gate on the facility with a man in a suit on it. He rides up to the guard shack with a winning smile.
MAN: I am Edward Harrington, Federal Liaison for Atalar Robotics. I'm sure that you are here for your Warhammer Security associates. They were sent home already. We will not be requiring your help.
Archie Wise blinks in confusion.
ARCHIE WISE: But they killed all those people in Las Vegas! We're here to bring the company down and imprison those who did wrong.
EDWARD HARRINGTON: That won't be needed. President Ronald McStrump has found a value in this company and accepted your donation of the shares into his own personal holdings to use on behalf of the United States of America. I'm going to have to ask that you all leave the grounds or face the consequences.
Jeremiah growls, pointing a revolver at the head of Edward. That is until a dozen of the power armor units come from the gate at the facility and the FBI agents turn their weapons on Jeremiah.
ARCHIE WISE: I'm sorry this had to happen, Mr. Vastrix, but Atalar Robotics is a product of the greater good now. You need to leave or become a wanted criminal.
Jeremiah holsters the weapon with a sigh, turning around, and walking away with the Shocktroopers not far behind him.
EDWARD HARRINGTON: Don't go away mad, sir. Go away with the thanks of the President and the United States!
Jeremiah takes his mask off and hurls it through the window of the door to his waiting limo.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: Mother fucker!
Jeremiah gets in the limo, slamming the door behind him. He looks out through the broken window at the Shocktroopers.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: Stand down. We'll need to find another way to skin this cat.
At a small bar in Los Angeles, Jeremiah Vastrix sits at a dark corner. He's wearing nondescript clothing with a pirate eye patch covering his cybernetic eye to keep attention from him. He has a bottle of whiskey and a glass of ice at his table and has been here for a few hours.
He's lost in the final round to Valora Salinas, who now thinks that he's a sell out for UOW management and the President of the United States.
Hell, after mistakenly handing over access to Atalar Robotics so that the state of the art weaponry can be used by President McStrump to hunt down anyone opposing his policies.
Jeremiah pours himself a fresh drink, but a feminine hand grabs it from his hand. He looks up to see Rose Johnston taking a sip of the drink and setting it back down on the table. She looks at him with an eyebrow raised.
ROSE JOHNSTON: Did you think that you could avoid me?
Jeremiah chuckles as Rose sets the drink back on the table and sits herself down.
ROSE JOHNSTON: Let me get right to it. Valora thinks you sold out and were trying to be Mudcock's All American Champion. She had an awful lot to say about you, your charm, your luck with the ladies, and so on.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: Valora is just angry that I'm not a woman so we can scissor through the night. You know the name God's Gift to Women is really just a joke that I made up. I mean women do really flock to me, but only because of the perception of money and fame more than anything else. Besides. I'm with a girl now. She's just busy shooting a film someplace. Where are my manners? Would you like a drink?
Rose Johnston shakes her head with a smile.
ROSE JOHNSTON: No, thank you. So you know that you are partnering up with Kronin and Baron Vendredi to take on Valora Salinas, Dwight Couch, and Takuma Sato. What are your thoughts?
Jeremiah snorts, draining his glass.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: This is Mudcock's way of getting back at me for...an incident. Baron Vendredi seems to be here for the laughs. Okay, I suppose I can sympathize with the concept, but now is not the time. Kronin...I'm betting that he won't even show up. You look at the last time that I depended on him to have my back and you see that this is why I have a cybernetic eye in the first place!
ROSE JOHNSTON: This goes back to NEW? When Jesse Styles ruined that eye with a stapler? How did Kronin have your back then?
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: He didn't! He was in charge over a brand split and was in charge of the match between Styles and myself, but he vanished. Gone with the wind. Now he's here for a run and the whole world knows the truth. He's about as dependable as Valora can be trusted to stay on the straight and narrow. Champion of the People. How long before someone like Anderson comes around and turns her to as much bloody violence as she can manage? How long until someone gets close to winning that title from her and she goes to any lengths to retain it? How long before the bodies start floating? This whole match is fucked right before the start. I will support my team mates the best that I can, but will they return the favor? Will Kronin even bother checking in at the arena? Will Baron even get into the ring or stand on the outside and run his mouth? It looks like to me that I will have to be the one with broad shoulders. Valora better fucking watch herself. I'm going to show her what I can fucking do.
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Post by moonchild on Oct 15, 2019 16:57:24 GMT -5
Written by Valora
Valora: Chapter 5, The Champ is here
Closing moments of the Title match.
Valora leapt into the air and smashed the cybernetic eye. Then she felt it. The eye unleashed an electrical discharge and Valora felt every nerve in her body go on fire, then she felt herself flying through the air and landing with a hard thud on the ground. The last thought she had before she briefly lost consciousness?
Fuck...I think I just came…
Valora snapped back to consciousness as two members of antifa pulled her to her feet, obviously concerned for her. Valora nodded and muttered a thank you before she went back. Then came the 3 count. Valora stood up, the adrenaline and the rush of victory allowing her to forget her injuries for the moment. She gave Vastrix the finger and while she couldn’t be heard, anyone watching her would pick up her lips forming the final words she said to Vastrix as ‘You sold out.’
Valora then ran over to her crowd and felt herself lifted up into the air and body surfing. Born and raised in California, this celebration came naturally to Valora and she loved it… She was once again more than merely a champion. She was a champion of her people.
Only this time ‘her people’ were more than just Mexicans. She was the leader of a revolution now. A modern day freedom fighter… The People’s Champion…
And Valora would have it no other way….
Los Angeles, California:
Valora slides out of her room and spins around, dancing and singing along to the song being pumped into her ears through her earphones connected to her smartphone.
Valora Singing “Ain’t no one like me! I’m a legend!”
Valora continues making her way through the hallway, dancing and singing along to ‘A King is born’ by Aloe Blacc, as part of her dancing, she adds in some shadow boxing, throwing punches at the air. Valora ends her little routine, jumping into the air and landing as she throws a big punch.
No matter how many times I find myself standing on the mountaintop.. It always feels the same. The rush.. It never gets old. Especially now.. This championship is more than just another title. This belt it gives hope to people. The Fascists just got knocked on their asses… and this is just the start
Valora’s thoughts are interrupted by the sound of slow clapping. She spins around to find Abbigail standing there aiming her smartphone at Valora. Abbigail laughs. “OH. MY. GOD! This is sooo goin on MeTube!”
Valora narrows her eyes. “Do it.. And they won’t find your body, chica.” Abbigail laughs. “Come on! This is gold! It can’t hurt to let people see you as… you know… human…”
Valora thought about this for a second and her response was cut off by her phone ringing. She reached into her pocket and took the phone out, answering. “Where you at, Samantha? You’re missing the impromptu celebrations here at Casa de Salinas.” Valora nodded as she listened. Her face darkened as she listened to the conversation and sighed, ending the call, looking at Abbigail. “Let’s go and get training.”
A short while later, Valora and Abbigail are in the ring at Valora’s gym. Samantha is there as well looking up from her trusty laptop. Valora and Abbigail finish their training session and make their way to Samantha. Valora nods. “So? What’s the news?” Samantha shrugs. “I talked with Elitstos. He and Mudcock seem to want to try and work with you. Elitistos said he recruited you because of your track record as champion and helping carry feds. They are going to schedule a West Coast tour. I believe Los Angeles will be one of the locales.”
Valora raises an eyebrow. “I...I finally get to compete in front of my hometown? I can count on one damn hand how many times I’ve fought in L.A. And the rest of the West Coast? That’s pretty fuckin’ sweet.” Abbigail nods. “It’ll be nice to not be boo’ed when we step out there.” Valora laughs. “Kid...I’ve spent half my fuckin’ career bein’ boo’ed. Granted, most of the time, that was the reaction I was going for but… you wanna be a pro fighter? Get used to being hated by the crowd. At some point in your career, the crowd will wanna see you get beat. Hell, they might fuckin’ hate you.” She glances over at Samantha. “So what do they need me to do for the next show?” Samantha clears her throat a bit and nods. “Interview. At the show there will be a segment where you will be presented with the Franchise Championship belt. Then you have a 6 man tag. You, Takuma Sato and Dwight Couch vs. Vastrix, Kronin and Vendredi.”
Valora thinks for a few moments and nods. “Well, that’s an easy win.” Abbigail chimes in. “How do you figure?” Valora smirks. “Vastrix, Kronin and Vendredi have nothing in common. Not their fighting styles and nothing personal. They have literally no incentive to work together as a team. Takuma Sato and I have something in common. We’re both Americans. Both born and raised in this country and now hated because we’re not white. Takuma Sato and I also know what its like to have nothing. Dwight Couch… well he’s from Kentucky. Same state that produced my idol.” Abbigail raises an eyebrow and Valora smirks. “Muhammed Ali. Remember, the very first fighting style I learned was boxing. I looked at Muhammed Ali. How he ran his mouth. How he fought.. I decided that was who I wanted to be and… my career has run a course that I hope someone someday will compare to him. Beyond that, Dwight Couch and I respect each other. We’re both pro fighters. We’ve fought each other… so yeah, I think him, me and Sato can work together easier than Kronin, Vastrix and Vendredi will be able to.” Samantha nods and interrupts for a brief moment. “Interview time. Rose Johnston should be here soon.”
A short while later, the cameras go on and Rose Johnston and Valora are sitting there. Valora is checking her onefootball soccer app on her smartphone and rolls her eyes. “How fuckin’ hard is it to score a god damned goal! Put the fuckin’ ball in the net!” Rose Johnston clears her throat and Valora looks up and mouths ‘shit’ realizing the cameras are rolling and tucks her phone away. “Sorry…”
Rose smiles and nods. “Valora Salinas. You’re here as the first ever Franchise Champion of UOW. Yet another title to your collection. How does it feel to be here and do you have any words for Vastrix?”
Valora smirks and shakes her head. “I wish I could say I was surprised he sold out but that’d be bullshit.” Valora narrows her eyes and looks into the cameras. “Takuma Sato, Vendredi, Kronin and myself were all physically attacked by racist fans who are too fuckin’ stupid to realize that Sato and I were both fuckin’ born in this country. UOW has a choice. They either guarantee the safety and security of all wrestlers… or I’ll be working with antifa to ensure that wrestlers are protected. Vastrix… you decided to stand with those fools, idiots and racists.. So if you think the ass kicking I handed out to you at the wall was bad.. Wait til you see the beating Sato and I are going to dish out now that you don’t have that fuckin’ cyber eye to cheat with. But that’s your whole fuckin’ life in a nutshell isn’t it, Vas? Such a fucking disappointment to daddy you must be. Failed business leader. Can’t get a woman to pay attention to you unless you use your money to compensate for the fact that you have no talents, no personality and one can only assume from your nickname that your compensating for lack of ability to perform in bed as well. Well, I hope you’re fucking happy of who you sold out to because me, Dwight Couch and Takuma Sato… we still have our integrity. And I’d like to remind you that your ‘partners’ were also on the wrong side of your new friends so… I wonder just how much you can trust them. Food for thought, pendejo.”
Rose Johnston raises an eyebrow and nods. “So… not a fan of Vastrix.. Obviously a rivalry in the making there. What about the other two opponents?” Valora laughs a bit. “Kronin and I have fought each other in every continent on Earth it seems like… Except Australia and Antarctica. I imagine he won’t be happy with his assignment this week but he’ll work with it because he’s a pro. If it were he and Vendredi, I’d be worried. Those two could probably form an effective partnership, both are quality fighters… unfortunately for them, they have to carry Vastrix.”
Rose Johnston nods. “And the big question… a champ has a lot of influence… if you were given the choice, who would you pick for your first title defense?” Valora leans back in her seat and thinks for a few seconds. “Well Dwight Couch would be on the list. He and I had a great match. Kronin, he missed the tournament so he and Vendredi would definitely be contenders. But right now, I’d lean slightly towards Takuma Sato. Vastrix beat him by cheating. But my thoughts are irrelevant. Ultimately, it’s up to the guys upstairs to figure out who my first challenger will be and there are new additions to the roster who I’m sure will want a say in trying to get the title off my waist.”
Rose Johnston makes some notes and looks at Valora. “Knowing the mentality pushed on Mox news, who do you anticipate that faction pushing as your next challenger?” Valora shrugs. :Not going to speculate. But the bench does seem to be getting a bit thin… really… doesn’t matter to me who they bring in next.”
Rose nodded as she listened intently to what Valora said, She glanced at her notes and then decided to go for it. “You’ve already mentioned the racism on display at the last event. If it doesn’t change, how can you justify coming out and performing every week? Wouldn’t the safe thing be to retire? Call it a career, ride off into the sunset?”
Valora smirks. “I dunno if you’ve noticed, Rose but I don’t exactly have a history of doing the safe thing. So sorry… I’m gonna be sticking around and I’m going to make myself a pain in the ass to these racists, fascists and would dictators trying to turn the U.S. into the 4th reich. I hope you all enjoyed your little orgasm on the wall because the revolution starts now. Actually it began when I took the title from poster boy number 2 or 3 or whatevs from ‘The Cowardly Sell Out’ Jeremiah Vastrix. Kronin.. Vendredi… I got nothing against you two.. Remember that scheduling aside.. You two do have choices.”
Rose blinks. “Are you telling them not to fight?” Valora shrugged. “I’m reminding them that they have choices. That sometimes you find yourself in a moment where your actions decide what you’ll stand for. Vendredi and Kronin are both smart people. I’m sure they’ll get it.” Valora stands up. “Speaking of getting it. I should try to get some training in with my partners for the show.” The interview ends a few moments later and Rose heads back to wrap up her notes and prepare her interview footage.
Valora, walks with Samantha and Abbigail. Samantha sighs. “Too bad we don’t know anyone with insight into this kind of thing. Your words will get your fans behind you.. But you just painted yourself as public enemy number one to the regime.” Valora nods. “I already was public enemy number one to them… and it just so happens I know a few people who might be able to help us out on the insight factor.” Valora looks at Abbigail as she runs off to grab her gear. Samantha looks at Valora. “I’m missing something…” Valora leans in and whispers in Samantha’s ear, and Samantha’s eyes widen.
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Post by moonchild on Oct 15, 2019 16:59:04 GMT -5
Written by MoonChild
The Strings of Fate and Fortune: The Takuma Sato Story: Chapter 4
It been seven long hours since the end of the wrestling event known as the “Brawl at the Wall” had come to epic end. It had been a gruelingly long drive in a cramped rental car for Takuma as he raced back from San Luis, Arizona to Las Vegas, Nevada to rescue his manager and only friend Ivan Stricker from the Russian mob. The whole time in the car Sato had listened to the various news broadcasting radio channels discussing what a nightmare the wrestling event had been for race relations in America and what it a stain the event and the wall would be on the fabric of American history. Sato didn’t really know if he should be proud for standing up for the right side of the fight or be embarrassed for even having taken part in the event. All he knew right now was that he had to get to Vegas as fast as he could to get Ivan out of the bad situation that he was in.
As his vehicle rocketed past the “Welcome to Las Vegas” sign on the long desert highway some relief came over him. He had won his match and in the process saved his friends life, as long as the Russians held up their end of the bargain. Sato was not an imbecile, he knew you couldn’t trust the mafia let alone your average crook. Even though a difficult challenge had been met with defeating Kronin at the Brawl at the Wall event, a far larger challenge lied ahead with Vlahd and his goons.
Sato pulled off the freeway and arrived in the old strip of Vegas early in the dawn of morning. Long shadows from the deteriorated buildings cast and eerie feel to the surrounding landscape. When Sato reached the address he was given he pulled his car over to the curb, shifted the vehicle into park, and pulled up the hand brake for added security. He then opened the door and stepped outside, taking a moment in the process of breathing in the dry but cool early morning desert air.
Sato looked up at the building Ivan was being held in and then walked up to the door. He took a deep breath and then banged on the flap with some severe intensity. A few moments later a panel in the large metal door slid open and a pair of black beady eyes peered through and locked their field of vision symmetrically with Sato’s. The door opened and one of Vlahd’s men stood there greeting Sato before welcoming him in with a crooked smile on his face. It’s was clear by the look on the henchmen’s face that he was very pleased to see Takuma. As Sato walked into the structure the revolting stench of vodka, cigars, and cancer engulfed his nostrils. Many of the men were busy playing poker and listening to “Sport Focus’s” around the hour coverage of the aftermath of Ultimate Wrestling’s Brawl at the Wall event that took place the night before.
As he approached them the Russian’s become aware of his presence and let out a welcoming cheerful cry of joy in their native tongue lifting their glasses of vodka high in the air toasting the young fighter. It’s clear his victory has earned them all a huge pay day with the Las Vegas bookies. A makeshift office door behind all the tables suddenly opened and Vlahd walked out with a cigar in his mouth and his arms wide open.
Vlahd: Yes! Everyone check out the future champ here! This kid great or what? He like Way of Dragon out there! Hah! You make me very rich my little Japanese friend!
Sato stood there awkwardly as the large Russian crime boss took his cigar out of his mouth with his right hand and then wrapped his arms around him hugging Takuma in aggressive manner. Vlahd kissed him on both his cheeks with the ferocity of a bear before giving him a playful smack on the cheek with his right hand.
Vlahd: You made that German Kornin really sorry he ever stepped in the ring with you! Now thanks to you I have all the money back from Ivan, plus an extra $400’000 dollars! Not bad if you ask me my friend!
Sato: I’m glad you’re happy, now where is Ivan? We had a deal remember? I win the match, you get your money back plus interest, and Ivan gets to skate free this time and come home with me.
Vlahd: Bah! You Asian are all business and no fun! Come I bring you to him, follow me my friend.
Sato followed the big Russian into the back of the building to an old stairwell. Once in the basement of the structure Sato bared witness to Ivan in a steel cage structure. His manager looks like he has been through absolute hell. Both his eyes were blackened with bruises, his lips blood stained, and his clothes torn to bits.
Vlahd: He cried like baby… perhaps we lied to him at first and tell him you lost Ha! Hahahahah! You should have seen it friend.
Sato clenched his fist trying to control his rage within. It took every bit of self-control he had to keep himself from snapping the Russians neck right where he stood. His patients and calmness paid off however as the Russian unlocked the cage and allowed Ivan to exit. Sato helped Ivan up the stairs and walked him over to the exit at the front of the bulding. Vlahd followed almost stalking them all the way to the front door. As Sato opened the heavy metal door Vlahd stopped him in his tracks with his thick Russian accent.
Vlahd: Mr. Sato! This relationship between us is not over my friend. We may call upon you again for a favor.
Sato: Fuck you, you fucking asshole! We are more than even!
Vlahd: No my friend we are not even, we are friends now! This is the start of a beautiful friendship! We will lots of money together trust me!
Sato: Come near me again and I’ll make sure you never walk again! You understand me?
Vlahd: Why you speak so harshly? We are going make each other very wealthy! You get some rest and I will see you very soon.
Sato let out a sigh, frustrated with the whole situation, he decided to leave the conversation as it were. Most of the Russian mobster had grown unhappy with his tone and had pulled out firearms much to his dismay. Sato was very gifted in hand to hand combat but he was no match for gun pointed straight at him. This was a fight he would have to leave for another day, what was important now was that he get Ivan to a doctor and himself on a plane to Los Angeles for his next match.
To Be Continued…
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Post by moonchild on Oct 15, 2019 17:00:13 GMT -5
Written by Kronin
Kronin: The Fun begins
Los Angeles, California
Kronin, Lilly and Kara are shown in the famous Los Angeles Coliseum. The trio stand on the field, Kronin idly rubbing his chest. Lilly frowns, noticing the gesture. “Whatcha thinkin’ babe? I know I’m bout ready to kill a certain punk..” Kronin shakes his head, waving his hand dismissively. “He coulda killed me if he wanted to. He did what he needed to win a hard fought match. It happens, Lil… can’t win ‘em all.”
Lilly nods. “I guess… though Valora certainly seems to expect to win every fight.” Kronin nods. “Of course… her entire life has been a battle. For Kara and I most of the hardships and battles ended when communism fell and Germany reunified. Valora has overcome one challenge only to find two more placed in her way. She reminds me of the Greek heroes from mythology. Right down to no happy endings.” Kara raises an eyebrow. “She’s a champion, widely regarded as one of the best fighters in the world. I’d call that a pretty happy ending.” Kronin nods. “Unless you watched your lover killed before your eyes and have spent every day since punishing yourself for the failure to protect your soulmate. People comment all the time about Valora’s fearless nature. She isn’t fearless. She simply is a person with nothing else to lose and thus throws herself head first into every challenge she comes across.” Kara nods. “How do you deal with someone like that?” Kronin smirks. “You exploit the weaknesses they present. Valora’s weakness has always been her greatest strength. Her emotional/chaotic nature. Her paranoia. She has no evidence that Vastrix is a sell out, yet she’s been running her mouth all over saying he is. Because of...what? A showy entrance? She’s lost a potential ally. An ally that could bring vast resources to her revolution. See.. Valora is a great fighter… but she’s shit for tactical and strategic thinking.”
The trio pause for a moment and take a look around the field and Lilly sighs. “You never answered my question you know.. Nice football field.” Kara rolls her eyes. “You can’t call a sport football if your feet never make contact with the damn thing.” Kronin shrugs. “She has a point. At any rate.. American football is enjoyable enough, But we’re here for a different reason. This is Los Angeles. Valora’s hometown. For once, Valora will have the crowd on her side.”
Kara nods. “I heard this is the start of a West Coast tour.”
Kronin nods. “Mudcock’s attempt to nip the revolution in the bud. Try to turn Valora’s win into more money for him.”
Lilly clears her throat as the pair emerge from the stadium onto the streets and she turns her smartphone to him. “Vastrix still seems pissed about NEW, babe.”
Kronin sighs and nods. “Yeah.. it wasn’t exactly my choice that I wasn’t there, but I doubt Vastrix cares for explanations now… I was kept from the event and he lost his eye. All I can do is make sure I’ve got his back this time and explain things from there. After the match.” Kronin says, sending Vastrix a text message reassuring him he will be there. “Our opponents are not going to be as united as they think. Sato is an honorable man. Valora will win by any and all means necessary, dishonorable to a man like Sato. Dwight Couch is what worries me. He’s an unknown quantity.. And I don’t like unknown quantities. At any rate, this will either be a great match or a great disaster.. Two teams of three people who don’t really trust each other.” Kara nods. “Valora and her revolution? We’ll have to choose sides sooner or later.” Kronin nods. “Not this week. I want to wait and see where Valora will take her revolution.”
Lilly looks at Kronin and blinks. “Well she’s fighting fascists and racists?” Kronin sighs. “Anyone can fight, Lil. I need to know why Valora is fighting. She does some good yes but she is motivated primarily by selfishness. She might not be much better than what she’s fighting. I’m going to wait and see before I jump on any bandwagons.”
Kara nods. “So why come to an empty stadium when we get here?”
Kronin smirks. “Know your enemy. For this match, Valora is my opponent. She grew up a Raiders fan.. They played in this very stadium. She also sees herself as a gladiator and this is literally named the Colosseum. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mudcock put the event here… really play up to Valora… think about it, guys… I wonder if she ever came to a game here, watched the fans in the Black Hole. Or did she miss out on that experience because of her background?”
A short while later, the trio stand in front of USC. Lilly nods. “Here?” Kronin nods. “Most people like to think of Valora as just another street punk. Just another low class uneducated brute.” Kara raises an eyebrow. “You have a different take?” Kronin grins. “I might have pulled a few strings. Learned some interesting facts about Valora’s past. I’ll wanna bring have a chat with her sometime about that.”
Lilly shrugs. “Yeah, she came here and played soccer. So what?” Kronin returns the shrug. “And what did she study?” Lilly rolls her eyes. “I don’t remember, criminal justice or something?” Kronin nodded. “So it would seem, but appearances can be deceiving.” Kara nods. “And the other two?” Kronin nods. “Dwight is an unknown. But he seems to be a good man. Sato on the other hand.. I’ve got quite the challenge. Three top tier fighters. And my team… 3 people who either don’t know, don’t trust or both of the former each other.”
Kara nods, listening and chimes in. “How do you plan to handle that?” Kronin smirks. “Ohh… maybe showcase why they call me the German Suplex Machine. Valora, Sato and Dwight Couch are going to be making the trip to suplex city.”.
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Post by moonchild on Oct 15, 2019 17:01:36 GMT -5
Written by Dr. Summeroff
Abishag Reborn
HOMESTEAD I
TOAD RIVER, British Columbia –
Abishag’s alarm goes off.
05:00
“shit…” he grumbles as he rolls out of his bed. He stands and stretches. His muscles loosen up.
That was a good thing.
Some days, they didn’t give up sleep so easily.
He shuffles out of his bedroom and into the main area of his home.
The home – a large log Cabin - was situated in the forest about two kilometers from Toad River proper – only a rough path that was cleared through the woods connected the home with the Alaska Highway – which Toad River was situated off of.
The home was laid out as follows – One large main room with a bedroom off to one side and a shitter to the other side. The Kitchen – such as it was – consisted of an old fridge, a stove and a cupboard for pots and pans. This was all part of the main room. There was a wood burning fireplace on one wall. In front of this was a rocking chair and a beat up old couch. On the table beside the chair was a radio. There was a Television – a decent one with a 50 inch screen on a stand which was hooked to a satellite dish outside. The dish and television were quite out of place here, the home being as Spartan as it was. All power needs were provided by solar panels on the roof and two generators.
Abishag turns on the dining area lamp, gets a pot of coffee going and then slowly makes his way to the crapper. He farts three times on the way – each blast more urgent than the next. You could set his bowels to a clock. The five AM shit was a way of life here.
The business done and hands washed, he goes back to the kitchen and pours the coffee. He swallows the warm beverage down along with 2 pills from a bottle labelled simply C-87.
The C-87 arrived each month – dropped off for him at the Toad River postal outlet…which was really just a storage box with a key.
He had to take these for his condition….although it had been so long now and his memory was fuzzy as to what that condition actually was. It was for his own good. The Doctors told him so.
Abishag goes out to sit on his porch and watch the sun begin to rise.
It was a good life he had here. It was far, far removed from his past and this was for the best.
A few years back – he had spent time at the Happy Hollows Mental facility on the east coast of the United States. It was just outside Boston – far, far from here.
It was there he woke up from what seemed like another life.
He spent many hours talking to Dr. Liftlander about this life which the staff at Happy Hallows had insisted was a delusion…a very elaborate dream. In this dream, he wasn’t Brock Abishag.
He was Brother Abishag. He was part of a cult…except he didn’t see it as a cult. Not at the time.
HAPPY HALLOWS I
“How would you describe it then?” Dr. Liftlander asks, curious to the response.
Abishag looked around the room. It was sterile enough – white with a plain table and a large one way mirror.
On the other side of that mirror, Dr. Cutter observed through cold, heartless eyes.
“I guess it was more of an order. Yes, an order. We followed Dr. Summeroff. We all did.”
Liftlander surpresses a snicker. “Dr. Summeroff? As in ‘I want the Summer off and need a Doctor’s note? Is this Summeroff a brother of Dr. Goodnote?”
“I’m sorry?” Abishag asks, his blood beginning to boil at the perceived mockery. Not so long ago, he would have grabbed this puny pencil pushing schmuck around his neck and wiped that smug look from his face…
Except that ‘not so long ago’ wasn’t real…was it?
Who was he then?
Surely there was a time before he fell into delusion? A childhood?
Why couldn’t he remember?
“I’m sorry Mr. Abishag. I was just teasing there”, Liftlander says, “…trying to lighten the mood. Tell me more about this…this Order?”
“Well we had a place…a compound…there were a lot of us there…most were acolytes – trainees I guess you’d call them. We had people from all walks of life serving in the compound. Carpenter classes…warrior classes, medicine, vinters…you haven’t had wine until you’ve sampled the good stuff from Brother Janus…Janus was a vinter but he was also a warrior…did you know he spent time as a wrestler in a federation called…Gateway City Wrestling? A powerfull trainee that one…could have been great…like Abaddon.”
Liftlander looks to the mirror for a moment than back at Abishag, “You do realize though that none of these things were real…this compound…Brother Janus or his exemplary wine…”
“I…I’m not sure.”
“Mr. Abishag…we both know it gets more…delusional…from here. Surely though from what you’ve just told me, you must understand how it sounds? Last time, you told me you were a Champion Wrestler in a federation called…what was it?” “WECW…and ROW…I was the champion for a time in WECW…the glory we brought to the compound in those days…across all the federations that mattered the Order had its warriors…WECW, ICW, Kapow…”
“Yes, except there is no record of those….”
Abishag frowns.
Behind the glass, Dr. Cutter smiles.
A figure next to her, Mr. Bradly, says quietly, “He’s buying it…”
“It would appear so…” Cutter says.
“Good” Bradly says curtly, “Summeroff is in a coma due to his meddling in RSW. Abaddon is chasing his ghosts in the Middle East and Buzi has gone missing on a pilgrimage in Chili. That just leaves this one here...and President McStrumps wants him to forget all about the Chilean Blob and the mess that whole thing caused. People don’t realize the Blob and its followers were behind the scenes destroying WECW and ROW from the inside. Cities ruined – Detroit…and a whole city – Mount Vernon – wiped off the Map! A whole roster of wrestlers and over a hundred thousand people packed into that Tiny Lister Arena dead! Not to mention the chaos that preceded all that…Summeroff and his followers must never wield such power again. The President would be most displeased should the nation be turned to an army of Chilean Blob Cult Worshippers! That was Summeroff’s end goal you know…to move it from the Wrestling Arena’s into everyday life! A nation of Blob worshippers….can you imagine such a thing!?”
“No…I couldn’t…but he could…” Cutter says and points back in Abishag’s direction.
“Tell me about the Blob”, Dr. Liftlander asks. “We’ve spoke of this thing in a lot of our conversations but we haven’t confronted it head on…what was the Blob? How did it come to be? Why did you follow it?”
“It healed me once”, Abishag states, “I should have died…I fell into a boiling tank once…I suffered burns that should have killed me…I was taken back to the compound and encased in his gelatinous glory…I was healed…well…that’s…that’s how I remember it. I guess that was part of the delusion.”
“Indeed it was”, Liftlander replies.
“The Blob”, Abishag continues, “well some thought it was just whale fat that washed up on the shores of Chili all those years ago…Summeroff knew differently. Abaddon, Buzi and I saw it’s power. It was magnificent. All knowing. All Powerfull…” Mr. Abishag…Brock. Do you realize how all this sounds?” Dr. Liftlander says.
“I don’t care how it sounds!!” Abishag roars, the old rage and power filling his veins once more and sending a shiver down Liftlander’s spine.
He smashes his fist onto the table, splitting it clean in half.
His mind was starting to clear.
Liftlander signals at the glass and soon four orderlies make their way into the room.
“Time for your medicine Mr. Abishag!” Dr. Liftlander says, “We will continue this tomorrow!”
The orderlies inject a further dose of experimental drug C-87 into Abishag’s arm and soon, he feels the anger lift and his mind begin to let go of the doubts of what was happening here…he again began to see things as they are.
His whole life had been a lie.
THIS was the truth.
There was no Blob.
There was no Order.
There was no Buzi and Abaddon.
He was alone.
He was insane.
…but he was getting better.
HOMESTEAD II
Abishag makes his way towards Little Raven Creek. This small running body of water ran about a kilometer behind his home and had a sloping river bank that was tricky to navigate but for the determined soul – of which there was just one in these parts – Himself…the fishing was excellent. A lot of Salmon used this creek to connect to larger bodies of water.
He sat down, opened up his Thermos and drank some more coffee.
A memory flashed in his mind for a brief moment – a memory of a breakfast where Abaddon had grown and roasted his own coffee beans. The resulting brew was horrid. The worst coffee he’d ever had…
It was just over an hour when Abishag heard the breaking of branches and the shuffling of the woods behind him.
Someone was coming.
Abishag, sitting in his lawn chair, turns his head and sees two figures emerge from the woods.
Bryce Collins, one of the locals Abishag met at the Toad River Lodge and had befriended speaks first, “Thought I might find you here…”
“Where else would I be at this time of the morning?” Abishag responds and stands up. He is dressed in a large lumberjack sweater and a pair of well-worn blue jeans.
“Who’s behind you?” Abishag says nodding to the figure in the woods.
“Fella says he knows you…says his name is Liflander…that ring any bells to you?”
Abishag drops his thermos.
Collins looks at the coffee emptying from the dropped thermos and then looks back at Abishag, “Guess it does ring a bell somewhere, don’t it?”
Liflander steps forward. He looked older now than when they last saw one another. The years had not been kind to the Doctor.
“Hello Brock”, the Doctor says quietly.
“Doc”, Abishag responds, “Been a long time….”
“It has. Yes it has”, Liflander says, shifting nervously and looking down at his shoes.
“Can’t imagine you come all the way out here to do some fishing, have you?” Abishag asks.
Liflander looks at Abishag and simply states, “Brock, we need to talk…”
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