|
Post by moonchild on Oct 15, 2019 17:13:40 GMT -5
|
|
|
Post by moonchild on Oct 15, 2019 17:23:07 GMT -5
Written by Valora
Valora: Honoring a Promise
Kronin’s Hotel room, San Jose, California
Valora came into the room walking with Kronin, an irritated look on her face.
“Look, I just spent half the fuckin’ night being tossed around like a fuckin’ ragdoll by you! I thought we had a fuckin’ agreement and now you drag me here saying it’s important…”
Kronin rolled his eyes. “I betrayed you before you could betray me. I know you, Val.. and we need a doctor.”
Valora looks incredulously at him “A doctor?! Do I fuckin’ look like a doctor to you?!” Valora is about to continue but is cut off as she sees the bloody and beaten body of Ivan Strickler. Kronin nods. “Kara and I did what we could but our medical training is from the military and limited to making sure he doesn’t die. And I’ve seen your college transcripts. The ones you’ve hidden. This man needs your help, Valora…”
Valora looks at him and Kara steps forward. “We work for German intelligence and despite the lies the CIA tells… Germans and Israelis have the best intel networks. I imagine your medical training comes in handy.. He needs that right now.”
Valora steps closer and inspects Ivan Strickler. “This… this is the work of a pro.” Kronin nods. “I thought of you.” Valora smirks. “If it had been me… he’d be dead. Right…here’s what I need.” She says as she rattles off a list. Kara darting off to get them. A few minutes later, Valora begins her work. Hours pass as Valora does the best she can without the modern medical equipment of a hospital. A few times she presses in on his ribs and Strickler groans in pain. Kara blinks. “The hell are you doing?” Valora sighs. “I don’t exactly have a fuckin’ X-Ray machine here, do I?! I need to see if any ribs are broken. A few hours pass as Valora makes use of her knowledge to help Strickler. Finally she nods. “He’ll live but… he needs a hospital.” Kronin nods. “Why?” Valora sighs. “Because I’m seeing evidence of internal bleeding. I’d need to perform surgery to do that and I don’t have a sterile environment… opening him up is asking for an infection and I’d prefer not to kill the man. Also I think he has at least one broken rib.” Kronin nods. “Is the internal bleeding bad?” Valora shrugs. “Doesn’t seem to be… might be a bruised organ or something too.. I don’t have the proper equipment to do my job here and this stab wound over here… it looks deep but I can’t tell if it damaged any tissue or organs or something.” Kronin nods. “And a hospital by law needs to report this right?” Valora nods. “Yes this man was obviously tortured, the doctors would contact the authorities.” Kronin nods. “You and I both know who did this… so what happens to Strickler when they force him to say who tortured him?” Valora thinks for a moment. “You understand that me treating him here will come close to torture, right? We don’t have anaesthesia. This is about as far from a sterile environment as you can get. I can keep him alive… if he doesn’t go to a hospital it’ll take longer to recover fully.” She then looks at Strickler and sighs. “Why can’t I just go back to being me?” She asks under her breath. Kronin steps forward. “Because you’re a good person. I’ve never trusted or really liked you because your entire career you’ve run from that. You’ve spent so much time trying to convince the world you’re something you’re not.”
Valora glares at him. “Yeah… well tell anyone about my training and you’ll see how fuckin’ evil I can be. I do quite well with the world thinking I’m just some dumb thug from the barrios…” Valora says as she goes back to work . Finally Strickler regains consciousness and sees Valora standing over him with bloodstained latex gloves, looking at his eyes with a pen flashlight and nodding. “Okay Strickler… careful… you’ve got a concussion as well as a shit ton of other injuries.. I’m guessing Mudcock didn’t appreciate your efforts to get us insurance?” Strickler groaned and Valora nodded. “It’s okay… I can do the math.” She looks at Kronin. “I’m not fighting.” Kronin nods. Valora looks back at Strickler, concern uncharacteristic for the tough latina on her face. “I’ve done what I can… Kronin and Kara found you… they gave you basic medical care and called me in… now it looks like you were stabbed I’m guessing… I can’t tell how much internal damage you have.. I think you also have at least one broken rib… so you might want to get checked out at a hospital. As it is right now… you should make a full recovery… but a hospital will be able to give you care that will heal you faster and well they will also give you pain killers.” Kara nods. “Can’t you write prescriptions?” Valora rolls her eyes. “That would make certain things public that I’d prefer to stay private…” She looks back to Strickler. “By the way… I talked to some old friends at USC… Sato’s hospital bills are taken care of.” She turns and walks over to Kronin on her way out. “Might wanna tell Sato where his manager is…” She says before taking the gloves off, throwing them into a bag with other bloody cloths and taking the bag with her when she leaves.
A couple of days later, Los Angeles
Valora sits in her gym. Across from her Samantha sighs. “If you don’t fight, you’ll be stripped of the title.” Valora nods. “And whoever gets it next will be illegitimate. Mudcock can’t strip me of the belt. I’m required to defend it once a month. I’ve defended it. He strips the belt from me, he devalues it. Plus I got the belt… right here.” Valora says, holding it up. “Possession is nine tenths of the law and all that.” Samantha leans forward. “But-” Valora leans forward. “I made an agreement with Strickler and the other wrestlers. No insurance, No fighting. When Mudcock isn’t making the nice nice money that I’m bringing in. That Kronin is bringing in. That the other fighters aren’t bringing in.. we’ll see how he fares then. Strickler made a reasonable request and Mudcock had him beaten nearly to death. Sato isn’t anywhere near healthy enough to fight and hes in a K.O. match against me?! No. This stops now.” Valora says as she gets up and storms off to get something from the small break room. Samantha sighs and looks at Abbigail. “You might wanna head up to San Francisco. We might need you up there”
2 Days later, San Francisco, California:
Valora sighs as she settles into her seat. Across from her sits Rose Johnston, who smiles and looks at the camera. “This is Rose Johnston for UOW and I’m here with the Franchise Champion, Valora Salinas! First things first Valora. Can you tell us about your big win and how you’re feel-”
Valora cuts her off. “No.” Rose Johnston blinks in confusion and looks back at the camera before looking back at Valora. “W..what do you mean no?” Valora shrugs. “No. As in a negative response to your question. You’re a smart girl, Rose. Connect the dots. Wait a minute.. Forgot the world we’re in at the moment… lemme spell it out. I don’t want to talk about my match. I beat Kronin. I beat Vastrix. It was good fun, Mudcock failed to relieve me of this belt. End of fuckin’ story.” Rose Johnston clears her throat. “Alright… what do you want to talk about?” Valora smirks. “What do I want to talk about? Last show, Mudcock was presented with a choice. He could choose to provide Healthcare for his employees, the people who go out and beat the ever living shit out of each other for his fuckin’ amusement and to add money to his bank account. Or, he could choose to find himself new wrestlers. He seems to want the latter so I’m making this announcement. I will not fight Takuma Sato for the belt.. And given that Takuma Sato is a man of honor, I doubt he’ll be showing up either.”
Rose Johnston’s jaw drops. “B..but you could be stripped of the title!” Valora smirks. “My lawyer seems to think otherwise and I’ll wager she’s better at her job than any of the soulless leeches that give lawyers a bad name that Mudcock can drag up. I am required by contract to defend my belt once every month. I’ve done that. I am required to make public appearances and help the fed. I’m doing that right now by doing this interview and by making the case that giving healthcare coverage is good business sense.”
Rose nods. “But isn’t he required by law to give healthcare?” Valora shrugs. “Well yeah, but apparently the law doesn’t apply to you if you’re the head propagandist for The fascist regime that has seized power in this country. Or if you’re white… and if you’re rich and white.. Well you got it made in the shade.”
Rose counter punches here. “Speaking of rich… I’ve done some research into your career and you are...quite wealthy yourself. Can you really play the populist? Doesn’t your socialist policies and agenda mean you suffer?”
Valora laughs. “Socialist.. Well least you didn’t call me a communist like Mox news likes to. Yeah. Socialism means higher taxes for me. But you know what? Fuck it. If it helps people. If it makes sure our railway system and powergrids aren’t antique dinosaurs slogging through the mud.. If it means you can drive over a fuckin’ bridge without worrying if it will collapse.. If it means people can get healthcare and take care of themselves and their families then I’ll pay the extra fuckin’ taxes… and yes.. I probably could afford my own healthcare here.. But most of the fighters on the roster can’t! The wrestlers of UOW made an agreement. No Healthcare, no walking down that aisle and fighting. I’m calling on all wrestlers in UOW to honor that agreement and to not fight until such time as Mudcock decides to come down off that ivory tower of his and meet with Ivan Strickler. I’d throw my name into the mix but I can’t get close enough for chatting and given that Strickler’s last meeting ended with him being beaten half to death, I don’t feel comfortable offering a meeting with my lawyer or my agent.”
Rose blinks. “Are you accusing Mr. Mudcock of beating Strickler?” Valora shakes her head. “No, because I have no evidence that he did. But I will be speaking to Ivan and seeing what details he can provide. All I know is that he met with Mudcock to discuss the issue of providing healthcare for the wrestlers of UOW and Kronin found Strickler beaten nearly to death in a dumpster. I’ll let people draw their own conclusions as to how one event ties in with the next.”
Rose nods. “So, to be clear… fans will not see you wrestle?” Valora shrugs. “Whether I set foot in the ring is entirely up to Mudcock. He either decides to provide us with healthcare Or he can watch an empty ring. I honor my word. I gave a promise to Strickler and the other wrestlers that I would not wrestle without a guaranteed healthcare plan in place. I honor my word. I guess we’ll find out how many other wrestlers are willing to do the same. I also think we’re done here.”
Valora ended the interview and walked out of the room onto the balcony that overlooked the bay and took in the sights. Samantha walked out next to her. “You’re taking a big risk here.” Valora smirked. “I’m in the Liberal capital of the world, chica. There are only a small amount of things I could do to piss the people here off.” Samantha nodded. “I meant the other wrestlers. If Takuma Sato walks out to that ring and you don’t. You really think Mudcock won’t strip you of the title?” Valora smirked and nodded. “Too bad I got the belt. Guess he’ll have to make a new one, huh?” Valora waved her hand dismissively. “Mudcock isn’t the first fed head/owner I’ve butted heads with… and he’s far from the most dangerous of them, Shit, Jesse Styles of New Edge.. now there was a dangerous fed head… He made shit fun. Mudcock? He’s an amatuer. He might think he’s the next Goebbels, but being okay at Propaganda doesn’t mean you’re okay at running a wrestling fed.” Samantha nods. “There is another danger. If Ivan talks and mentions how he recovered…” Valora shook her head. “Strickler won’t say anything. He’ll wait until he needs a favor from me and use his leverage then.” Samantha nods. “ If he does.. Your carefully built illusion falls apart.” Valora shrugs. “Or I tell the truth.. That I stabilized him and allowed him to get real medical treatment. Pretty hard to prove beyond a doubt that I myself did anything more than a experienced trauma nurse couldn’t do. So yes.. If Strickler talks.. People might find out.. But Strickler was half conscious when I left so doubtful he even remembers. Second, if people find out.. It’s hard for them to prove what they’ve found out. Thirdly… I didn’t exactly have a choice…”
|
|
|
Post by moonchild on Oct 15, 2019 17:33:09 GMT -5
Written by Vastrix
Defining Moment
"God's Gift" Jeremiah Vastrix lays in a hospital bed. His face is heavily bandaged with a jar of liquid on a tray next to him containing shards of the mask that have been pulled from his face. Also on the tray is Jeremiah's cybernetic eye that has an inch long metallic shard from the mask embedded in it.
Just because the eye has been looked at, it does a quick electrical arc across the surface that seems to bring a twinge of pain from Jeremiah himself. Johnny Melange sits at bedside, looking like the worried mother hen.
JOHNNY MELANGE: Are you alright? You want me to get a nurse to get you another hit of pain medicine? What about your bed? You need it adjusted? Maybe the bandages changed?
Jeremiah just chuckles, a bit of a wince as different areas on his face are affected. JEREMIAH VASTRIX: It looks worse than it really is, Johnny. I'm a big boy and I knew the dangers of getting into a caged ring with the likes of Kronin and Valora. I'm shocked that this is the extent of the damage. We both know that Valora is just angry with me that I'm not a chick so we can both get drunk and zzizzor all night. Kronin just doesn't like the fact I'm a better man than him.
JOHNNY MELANGE: Don't you mean scissor?
Jeremiah cocks his head as he looks at Johnny.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: What's that? That's what I said. Isn't it?
JOHNNY MELANGE: You said it with a Z.
Jeremiah just shrugs, flinching again when the cybernetic eye flickers with another arc of power.
JOHNNY MELANGE: Is there some way to just shut that eye off? I mean it's broken anyway.
Jeremiah picks the cybernetic eye up and examines it with his good eye. He plucks the shard out of it and reaches in with an odd tool that looks like a thin stylus with a lit end. The cybernetic eye shuts down, the blue glow going dark.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: I've been getting these under the table from a company that's under the wing of Sebastian Jalabert. they're working on cybernetics to ty to rebuild his dying body. The eye was a breakthrough and Sebastian knows that it torques off father to help me. Johnny picks up the broken cybernetic eye, examining it as he turns it over.
JOHNNY MELANGE: Are you going to get a new eye before you face Davey-Boy O'Brien?
Jeremiah shrugs, sipping at a plastic cup of ice water.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: I called the company to see if they can quickly ship me one to fit in the housing that they made, but I'm not sure that it will arrive in time.
JOHNNY MELANGE: Maybe you should just ask Mudcock to get you one again. He managed to get his hands on one pretty quickly the first time that you broke it.
Jeremiah spits ice water everywhere and begins to laugh.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: Dude! You remember that I assaulted him just like Val did? I also stood with the others for him to actually give us health coverage for when we get hurt. He's not going to give a flying fart if I live or die. I wouldn't be shocked if he-
The building shakes miliseconds before the sounds of the explosion hits their ears. Jeremiah jumps out of bed and to his feet, his hospital gown billowing behind him. Johnny turns away his face with an expression of disgust.
JOHNNY MELANGE: That's something that I could have lived forever and not seen!
Jeremiah makes a half hearted attempt to close the back of his gown, but they really aren't designed that way. He just chuckles.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: The best thing you've seen all day.
JOHNNY MELANGE: Well, it is sort of like a woman's ass.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: Thanks? Where do you think that explosion came from?
Just then, the door to the hospital room explodes off of its hinges. It flies through the room, smashing through the window to the outside world.
MECHANIZED VOICE: Jeremiah Ezekial Vastrix! Come out with your hands in the air for your execution under the penalty of the Atalar Act.
JOHNNY MELANGE: Your middle name is Ezekial?
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: Piss off! You too, Johnny. There has been no Atalar Act!
MECHANIZED VOICE: The act is before the Congress now and is expected to pass with the encouragement of the President. It will allow those selcted by Atalar Robotics to act as Judge, Jury, and Executioner in the name of the President.
Jeremiah stands against the wall by the hallway leading to the door to the room so that he's just around the corner. The shadow of the power suit fills the light cast from the hospital hallway.
He's too big to fit through the door. Jeremiah thinks quickly.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: And who is here to carry out the justice of the President? Or rather, fufill the vengeance of Aktas Atalar?
MECHANIZED VOICE: I am Strigryt Netherfang. Come forth and die!
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: Not by the hair of my chiny chin chin!
There is an explosion of sound as the man inside the power armor lets out a roar of rage. He begins smashing at the door frame to allow him the room to come inside. Johnny elbows Jeremiah in the side, close in next to Jeremiah. Seems that imprending death has overcome the revulsion of being so close to an essentiually naked man.
JOHNNY MELANGE: What now, smartass?
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: No idea. Call for backup?
JOHNNY MELANGE: Who you gonna call?
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: Ghostbusters! Wait! Distract him when he comes in!
Jeremiah rushes back to the bed, grabbing his tool and the cybernetic eye. He begins working on the eye, looking as closely at it as he can with his good eye. Johnny watches as debris begins to fly into the room, representing Strigryt entering through the door.
JOHNNY MELANGE: How?
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: Tell him a story?
Strigryt Netherfang walks into the hospital room, his shoulders tearing through drywall like it was tissue paper. He was dressed in a combat uniform of Atalar Robotics with the US Flag patched onto a shoulder to represent the new owner. He stood over nine feet tall and nearly five feet wide, though this was a power armor facade. A twisted blend of movie concepts stolen from both Iron Man and the Terminator. There was a little man inside like cream filling to a donut.
JOHNNY MELANGE: I'm supposing that you think that you're some god like Tisturkzerd the Wretched did? You know that no one is buying it by now? I think what you are doing is a terrorist act.
STRIGRYT NETHERFANG: You are guilty of harboring a fugative from justice. Your fate will be the same as his. Death.
Strigryt swings at Johnny, who ducks under the ponderous arm to allow Strigryt's massive fist to tear through the corner.
JOHNNY MELANGE: You know that there are religions where the gods worshipped are jealous, petty gods who would slaughter who would dare to claim divine stock. Don't you think that President McStumpet would be such a being who would take such offense? Strigryt is about to grasp all of Johnny's head in his grasp, stops to look at him with a frown.
STRIGRYT NETHERFANG: We operate with the authority of the Presid-
Strigryt closes his mouth and swallows with a blink as Jeremiah throws his cybernetic eye in.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: Strigryt Netherfang. Otherwise known as Kizil Tekin of Atalar Robotics. You operate with no authority as that law will never be passed. Goodbye!
KIZIL TEKIN: What is this in here with me? What have you done?
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: Time to go, Johnny!
Jeremiah grabs Johnny by the arm and leaps over the bed while taking Johnny with him. He flips the bed on it's side and ducks.
Johnny looks at Jeremiah, who has covered his ears, and follows suite. Kizil cries out in rage and fear, trying to eject from the power armor that has had the ejection function covered in vat grown flesh.
There is a muffled explosion. Jeremiah and Johnny peer over the fallen bed to see Kizil standing there in silence, smoke rolling out of his mouth, ears, nose, and eye sockets. The form rocks a little before falling onto its face with blood along with bits of charred meat pouring from its mouth.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: I had set the eye to overload. I can wrestle and win with only one eye and no mask. I would prefer both the eye and a mask, but I won't be able to get either until after the show.
JOHNNY MELANGE: And how will you defeat Davey Boy?
Jeremiah shrugs, the sounds of police and firefighter sirens filling the air.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: I'll just have to try my best. Won't I? It will be my defining moment to wrestle without that crutch.
|
|
|
Post by moonchild on Oct 15, 2019 17:35:03 GMT -5
Written by MoonChild
The Strings of Fate and Fortune: The Takuma Sato Story: Chapter 5
Sato had only checked out the hospital just twenty minutes before he received a call from Kronin telling him what had happened at Friday Night Clash Two and that Ivan Stricker had been hospitalized due to the beating he endured thanks to Rupert Mudcock. The anger in Sato’s soul spread from his heart throughout his body as he hung up his iPhone and turned back around to face the entrance of the hospital that had been his home for the last two weeks. He quickly stormed through the front entrance and made his way to the information desk to find out where Ivan was currently located in the hospital. Once receiving notice that he was recovering in the post operation unit and he rushed over to that section of the hospital as fast as he could. When he arrived Kronin, his sister Kara, and Lilly were all there keeping Ivan Company and his spirits up.
Kronin: Glad to see you’re here Takuma, Ivan’s feeling a lot better now that they were able to stop the internal bleeding.
Sato: What the hell happened? Ivan, I thought you said everyone was going to be with you when you confronted Mudcock?
Kronin: We were with him, he agreed to negotiate the healthcare coverage for the roster, and then we went back to getting ready for our matches. He was attacked we think by Rupert’s new bodyguard Walter Reagan during the negotiations but his memory is pretty foggy.
Ivan: I remember being in the office Takuma, I just don’t remember anything else.
Sato’s face turned red as he clinched his fist in fury. His training to control his emotions and his breathing thrown out the window. Nothing his father could have ever taught him would of prepared him for seeing his friend lying in the hospital beaten half to death thanks to a media mogul giant.
Sato: That fat old bastard is going to pay for this! He can’t get away with attacking you like this!
Kronin: Don’t worry, Valora is hell bent on keeping all of us from wrestling this week in San Francisco. Most likely none of us are fighting this week unless he agrees to negotiate contract with Valora’s lawyer in front of all us before the show. We’ve got him trapped in a corner, Rupert ether agrees or his wrestling federation goes under. There is no way he can hire enough fighters to fill his cards for all the shows he has scheduled in the next few months.
Sato: That’s all fine and dandy but he can’t get away with this beating! Being a multi billionaire doesn’t mean you can get away with pounding people half to death just because you disagree with them! Have any of you even called the police? Has anyone even reported this?
Lilly: We’ve tried to convince him, but Ivan is afraid of what might happen…
Ivan Stricker: I’m no Angle Takuma, I’ve got skeleton’s in my closet… mistake’s I’ve made. If I challenge Mudcock he will bury me in the media. My career as a sports athletics’ manager will be over. Sometimes you just have to know your place and class in society.
Sato: Absolutely not! I won’t accept this! I will make that geriatric bald headed prick pay for this, mark my words!
Ivan: Enough! You’ve got a title shot against Valora this week and with it a chance to pull your family out of the shitty situation it’s in! Stop worrying about me and Rupert! I’m going to recover and Rupert is still going to have to give into our demands! If you want to make his life a living hell, do what Valora is doing and rub his nose in it! Win that Franchise Championship and then make his life a living hell!
Kronin and his family nodded in agreement, they seemed exhausted by the entire ordeal, and having to take care Ivan during his most touch and go moments. Lilly had a SunBucks coffee cup in her hand and there were another six on the table behind them. It looked like they had no slept in a good forty eight hours or so.
Kronin: He’s right. Attacking him will only land you in jail and slapped with a lawsuit. Just look at what happened to Valora after the first Friday Night Clash.
Sato let out a sigh of frustration, the world seemed so incredibly unjust that the wealthy could do anything they wanted in America and be untouchable.
Sato: Alright… you’re all right, but that doesn’t make it okay. One day soon Rupert and all the crooked and corrupt billionaires in this country are going to have a rude awakening.
Ivan: Thank you for listening to me Sato, Take the keys on the desk to my Chrysler, use the drive up to San Francisco to get you head straight before your title match. I hear highway 1 is beautiful this time of year…
Kronin, Kara, and Lilly left the room after shaking hands with Ivan and give Sato a pat on the back. Once they were gone Ivan began to speak to Sato quietly making sure no one else nearby could hear him.
Ivan: You listen to me and listen well, you walk out to that ring at Friday Night Clash no matter what Valora or anyone else does you hear me? You don’t owe them anything, and this is your one shot to clear you family’s debt and put yourself on the radar of every wrestling promotion in the world.
Sato: No way Ivan! That would make all the suffering you’ve gone through for nothing! I’m not doing that! There will be other matches and big prizes along the way. I’m not going back on my word.
Ivan: You’re as stubborn as they come you know that…
Sato: It’s in my nature. Feel better brother and I’ll see you when I get back from San Francisco.
Sato grabbed the keys to Ivan’s car and he also took his leave of USC Medical Center. After a short bus ride to Ivan’s car, Sato pulled onto the LAX airport exit and headed toward arrival’s to pick up his new friend who’d been living with him in Las Vegas for the past few weeks. Her name was Amber Sullivan, a former Las Vegas prostitute, who was attempting to turn her life around with the help of Sato’s guidance. She had agreed to accompany him on the nine hour road trip up the northern coast as Sato didn’t feel like being completely alone for all that time. As he pulled up to the curb Amber was waiting for him in a ghostly black dress, dark lipstick, and her long black hair wrapped in a bun with two fancy looking chopsticks keeping it in place. Takuma got out of the vehicle and gave her a hug before popping the trunk and putting suitcase inside. The two got back in the car, and Sato shifted the 1986 Chrysler Labaron into drive and five minutes later they were back on the 101 headed toward the pacific High Way 1.
Amber: So, happy Halloween… not sure if you’re a fan, but I love Halloween.
Takuma: Personally I’ve always liked it because it's my birthday.
Amber: Oh my god! Happy Birthday! How old are you?
Takuma: I’m twenty.
Amber: Wow that really makes me feel old… Your eight years younger than I am and you have your life more together than I do. You should be proud of yourself for that.
Takuma: I wouldn’t say that. I’m just relying on something that’s been passed down from generation to generation in my family. This fighting skill of mine, while I worked at it to get where I am, it’s a privilege of my heritage and something that was given to me by my father and his before him.
Amber: I see what you’re saying but you still have your life more together than most people I know. You should be feel good about that.
Takuma: Thanks…
Amber: What’s wrong?
Takuma: Just a lot of thing’s going on with my manger and the Ultimate Wrestling Federation owner.
Amber: You want to talk about?
Takuma explains everything that has transpired of the past weeks with Ivan, Rupert, and the rest of the roster. It’s clear that Amber is shocked and surprised by the insanity of it all. She stares at Sato worriedly before speaking back up.
Amber: So, he wants you to fight, but you think it be wrong to go against the other fighters.
Takuma: Of course, I can’t put my own immediate needs ahead of the other fighters. Plus I need the health insurance myself. Look what happened the last time I got into the ring and fought.
Amber: I hear what you’re saying, but the whole reason you’re fighting is to pay of your mother’s debt on her house. Once you’re done with all that you could quit fighting and go to college, do whatever you want to do, you know what I mean?
Takuma: No, I have a lot more I plan to do then just pay off my mother’s debt on her house. I want to help people with the gift that I have. People like you, people in worse situations than you, and the people that the one percent in this country have forgotten.
Amber: Well that’s really sweet of you, but when do you get to be happy?
Takuma: Maybe I’m not on this earth to be happy, maybe I’m here to make a difference in the world and create change.
Amber: Well, I hope you find some happiness on the way to fulfilling this destiny of yours.
Sato smiles at Amber appreciating her concern, as he makes his way onto highway one. The white Chrysler Labaron moves through the twist and turns along the coastal road as the sun begins to set on two inside the retro convertible. Time flies by and before they know it hours later they arrive in the liberal capital of the world San Francisco. The scene ends with both Sato and Amber looking up at the bright lights of stores and shops while coasting through the foggy streets of the mission district.
|
|
|
Post by moonchild on Oct 15, 2019 17:37:02 GMT -5
Written by Kronin
Kronin: Cleanup and Plans plus a Choice
Kronin and Kara moved with speed around their hotel room, cleaning up the mess left behind. Lilly was watching things carefully, making sure nothing was missed. “I think we got it all..” Kronin nods. “One can hope.” Lilly nods. “So… big question. You actually going to fight Abishag?” Kronin looks at Lilly like she’s from outer space. “Why wouldn’t I?” Lilly rolls her eyes and glances at Kara who chimes in. “Because you promised not to fight if Mudcock didn’t give insurance to the fighters.”
Lilly holds up her smartphone, showing Valora’s interview. “And because it seems Valora intends to stick by the deal.” Kronin walks over and watches the interview, and sighs. “Still surprises me to see that woman put someone else ahead of herself.. But I guess people can change after all. She’ll pay a price for not fighting..” Lilly nods. “How bad?” Kronin shrugs. “If Sato heads out to the ring… Mudcock will order the match begun and will have Valora counted out. He’ll then use the ‘defeat’ as grounds to give the belt to Sato. This will piss Sato off because his win will be tainted and not honorable. Valora will not hand over the belt and now you’ve got a huge mess. Mudcock is being an idiot. With a little bit of research, I’m sure he could find a way to get Valora on his side. Oh well, he’ll learn the lesson everyone else has. Valora is at her best when she has an enemy to fight.”
Kara thinks for a second and nods. “I sympathize with the sentiment but so far it’s only Valora who has declared she won’t fight. I think we should prepare to fight.. If the others don’t then we don’t have to either but I believe most will go out and fight.. Valora shot that interview in San Francisco according to the official UOW tag lines.. So if Mudcock gives in, or the other wrestlers decide not to hold the line, we should be prepared to fight.”
Lilly scoffs. “Easy for you to say.. Kronin has fought Abishag before. I’ve watched him beat people to death.” Kronin nods. “He’s tough, but he’s not unbeatable. Kara makes a good point. It would be a mistake to take a vacation. If nothing else, it would feed into Mudcock’s narrative. I think we need to be ready for all possible scenarios.” Kronin says. Lilly nods “Right then, I’ll go book our trip to San Francisco.” She said heading off.
A couple days later, San Francisco, California:
Kronin is busy training, Kara and Lilly watch from the sidelines. Kronin treats the training match seriously, fighting his opponent, who is of similar build to Abishag, and finally hits a couple of German Suplexes and shortly thereafter, the session ends, Kronin thanking the man for his time and nodding at Lilly who walks to the bag she was standing close to and makes sure the sparring partner is paid for his time. Kronin walks over as Kara looks at Lilly. “Any other wrestlers make a public statement?” Lilly shakes her head. “Nope. If it were me...I’d walk out to the ring, take the easy title win and let Valora be out in the cold trying to get a title fight. Though you gotta ask why book the match in the first place? Mudcock hates Sato as much as he hates Valora… moreso when you add in Strickler.” Kronin nods. “The match is a trap. Mudcock wants Sato and Valora in that ring. The question is.. What does he have planned for when that happens? I think Valora has made that calculation too.”
Lilly nods. “And then you against Abishag?” Kronin smirks. “He’s trying to show he knows our business. ‘I’ll put two big guys together and let them fight. That’s fun, right?’ It’s the same gameplan amateurs use to make themselves look like they understand our business. Mudcock thinks he can work with me. He needs to see if Abishag can be an ally.”
Kronin makes his way back to the practice ring and sits on the apron. Lilly shrugs. “Well if I were him, I’d be working overtime to get you on my side. You’re rich. You’re white. You’re… well compared to me you’re conservative. You’re a perfect ally.” Kronin smiles and nods. “I’m also German and Mudcock is friends with President McStrump. McStrump has...not gotten along well with Germany. Even though, in many ways he’s been a Godsend for Germany.” Lilly blinks in confusion Kronin nods. “We’ve wanted to be the leader in Europe for decades. To truly step out of the shadows of WW2 and move forward. The same forces that put McStrump in power also forced the UK out of the EU. With Britain retreating back to their isle, Germany stepped in to fill the void. Now we face the specter of the United States deciding to withdraw. This has left Germany as the leader of the EU, and, in the eyes of many, we are rising to claim the title of leader of the Free World. McStrump doesn’t have enough brain cells to be aware of it, but he is dangerously close, not only to ending the U.S.’ reign as the lone superpower, but he’s coming close to ending the legacy of American leadership. It’s sad. In all of human history, the United States is the only empire to not seek to conquer the world. One could argue they dominated the world in other ways, but the fact remains that the U.S. was a very benevolent empire… and the world will be much less stable and safe without it.”
Lilly nods. “Well...I think that’s why everyone is fighting in any way they can to make sure that doesn’t happen. So...odds on whether or not Abishag is still crazy?” Kronin laughs a bit. “Oh, he’s definitely still crazy. You don’t shake cult crazy easily. But I have a plan to deal with him… if indeed, we fight at all..
|
|
|
Post by moonchild on Oct 15, 2019 17:38:29 GMT -5
Written by Dr. Summeroff
The Bridge
Summeroff, Abishag, Abaddon and Buzi sit in the Order’s limo, stuck at a lift-bridge.
“Blobdammit!” Summeroff barks, his anger at this delay evident, “Why does this always happen…those boats have all day to pass through here but they choose the exact moment I WANT to get by to decide to arrive. Look at this…no doubt that public employee in the box saw me coming around the corner and lifted the bridge as soon as he saw me. After all, why wouldn’t he lift the bridge 30 minutes before the boat arrives?” “Insidious!” Abishag says, now fully immersed once more in his role as the Blob’s enforcer. Buzi adds, “I believe the reason they raise the bridge this early as it’s not easy for the boats to stop and should the bridge have a mechanical issue, the boat needs time to come to a stop.” “Is that right Mr. Fancy Pants?” Summeroff says, scowling at Buzi. “No my friend. I have it from the Blob himself – it’s the public service employee in that booth…his sole purpose for living is to aggravate me. Well, let’s just see who gets the last laugh now. Abishag – come!” Summeroff and Abishag leave the Limo and head towards the control booth for the bridge. “Some things never change, do they?” Abaddon says, shaking his head. “Summeroff has always been this way”, Buzi says, “Abishag just follows along. He just likes to beat people up.” “People like Baron Vendredi and Dwight couch!” Abaddon says, laughing, “Can’t say Abishag has lost anything, has he? Did you see him demolish those two test subjects?” “You know I did…we were sitting together”, Buzi says, confused. Abaddon – white mask on as always – turns slowly towards Buzi, “Do you always have to take everything so literal?” Buzi grunts. “Thought Abishag might have some ring rust…he looks better than ever”, Abaddon says. “Makes me wonder if I should try to make a return?” “Don’t brother”,Buzi says solemnly, “You retired due to injuries. Abishag, Blob bless him, still has his health.” Buzi pauses before continuing, “No doubt Abishag’s victory sends a message to President McStrump and Rupert Mudcock – the power of the Blob is eternal…and it’s back. America…the whole world in fact – needs this. The world is calling and we must answer this call together…all of us.” “Speaking of all of us”, Abaddon says excitedly, “ I’m told Brother Janus has returned!” “He has. I met with him”, Buzi says, “He is ready to continue the work. We will be unstoppable. THIS time, nothing will stop us…” “So what of the roster?” Abaddon says, changing the subject. “What about the roster?” Buzi says. “Well, that whole thing Stricker is trying to do – organize the roster to form a wrestler’s union? Do we want to be a part of that…” Buzi slaps Abaddon hard across the mask. “That’s blasphemy brother! Surely there is only ONE and just ONE union we will be a part of and that’s the Union of the Mighty Chilean Blob! Even now, he quivers in his tank hearing you ask that question. Summeroff will tell you the same. The roster is flotsam. The most feeble of wrestlers – soft from not being challenged for so long. The Mexican Salinas and her petty feud with Mudcock…thinking she has gotten the last laugh when the Blob and his allies have returned! There will be no rest for UOW…none, now that the Master has once more opened his eyes.” Abaddon nods. He could see why Buzi was the chosen one to lead them when Summeroff was gone. As the two continue to talk waiting for the bridge, Summeroff and Abishag have almost reached the control booth for the bridge. “This wretch in this box must be made to suffer for this delay Abishag. I want you to make this public sector union sweat hog suffer for this outrage. He has raised this lift bridge on me for the last time!” “You are starting to sound like President McStrumps and Mudcock”, Abishag says. “Well maybe those two are on to something…in a different life, maybe we could have even worked together…but those two are FOOLS Abishag. Make no mistake about it – they are self-deluded blowhards unable to think for themselves and draw like-minded fools to their flock…and one thing the Blob cannot abide are fools. Mudcock is right about this whole locker room rebellion though. I thought he handled that dissention in the ranks well. Ivan Stricker got what he deserved. When you turn against the boss – that’s what happens. EVERYONE would do well to remember that…” Summeroff turns and gives the evil eye to Abishag. The unspoken meaning was clear enough. Cross the master and suffer the consequences. The two approach the control booth when Summeroff’s cell phone begins to buzz. “Hold on just a moment”, the angry doctor says, “…a text has come in. It’s from the UOW…it seems our next match is set…let’s see who it is…no doubt, it’s a title fight against the vile Salinas!” Summeroff frowns, “What is this? How can glory be brought onto the gelatinous master with such dross across from us? Kronin? Seriously? This must be a joke…have you not destroyed everyone they’ve put in your way?” Abishag grunts. “Well this puts me in a foul mood my friend”, Summeroff says. “You know, Kronin is the one who found the beaten Ivan Stricker, drooling at the mouth in the alley and crying for his mother…He was babbling like an idiot I was told…Well if Kronin thought that looked bad – wait until he sees himself after you are done with him…I can sense the blob’s power in you Abishag – you are meant for GREAT things…there isn’t a soul in this federation who can match you…so just take care of business. Deal with Kronin and then Salinas will be yours…apparently she is facing Takumo Sato at Clash…” “It’s Takuma Sato…” Abishag says. “Does it matter? It could be a dog living in a box down on the river for all I care…point is…it’ ISN’T you and that’s an insult…it’s a conspiracy of course. The Blob sees all and he has parted the veil of Rupert Mudcock’s plan and he sees what’s happening. Mudcock is in bed with McStrumps!!! They fear the rise of the order and will do anything in their power to keep us all down…McStrumps knows the Blob has the pulse of the people and when those people accept the Blob as their savior and hundreds of thousands of Blob cult worshippers rise up…MILLIONS EVEN…then this miserable accursed country as we know it ends and a new era begins. They do not want this Abishag – YOU are the first strike to make this happen – they want to avoid this at all costs…” Summeroff stops speaking for a moment, takes a pill and then continues, completely changing the subject. “Look over there…see the boat! Look how far away it is…it’s time to demonstrate to the everyday man what happens when you fuck with the Blob and his soldiers. Open that door Abishag! We’ll just see if this guy raises anymore bridges when he sees the Blob’s limo approaching!” Abishag kicks the door down and startles the two Bridge operators. “Which one of you two wretches is responsible for raising and lowering the bridge…WHO actually makes the decision!?” Summeroff roars. Operator #1 steps forward. He trembles in fear at the sight of the angry and seething Abishag. “And what would your name be?” Summeroff inquires. “Chet”, the man says. “Chet…like the guy who got turned into a turd in Weird Science?” Chet nods. “Fine. YOU!” Summeroff barks at the second operator. “Get out!” Operator #2 runs as fast as his legs would take him. “So…CHET…tell me, did you or did you not see the Blob’s limo approaching today?” “What? The blob? What blob?” Summeroff looks to the sky, “Forgive him master, he knows not what he says…what’s that? No? No forgiveness?” Chet stares at Summeroff talking to what would appear to be himself and wonders what he did to deserve this lunacy… “Chet, it seems the Blob has no room for leniency for an unbeliever such as yourself…Punishment will be forthcoming…what form that takes is up to you…only the truth now…did you see the Limousine back there in the line…” Chet looks. He is about to say no but notices Abishag’s eye begin to twitch… “Uh…YES?” “Good, very good”, Summeroff says. “Now, did you, upon seeing the Limousine have the button pressed to raise the bridge?” “No…no….it was because of the boat…” “Chet, that boat is still out in the lake…” “Yes…but…but…it takes time to stop and the bridge malfunctions…” Chet stammers. Summeroff dismisses the excuses with a wave of the hand, “That’s the same nonsense Buzi spouted back in the car! Now Buzi wouldn’t lie to me Chet…so I believe HIM…you however…the Blob sees right through you…he’s seen through a lot of unbelievers lately. Baron Vendredi and Dwight Couch didn’t believe either until Abishag showed them the light! The light of the overhead lamps over the ring those two fools got to stare at as Abishag covered them both for the Pin 1…2…3! You saw that match, didn’t you CHET? You watch UOW don’t you? No doubt you were in front of your television and cheering on those two idolaters…just as I bet you were planning to crack open a Schlitz beer and cheer on that thug Kronin at Friday Night Clash 3…Kronin’s somewhat of a hero now, isn’t he CHET? He rescued that miscreant Ivan Stricker from bleeding out in the Alleyway after the powerful Mr. Reagan beat him into something that resembled sashimi!!!” Summeroff stops for a moment to take a pill. Crestor. It seemed for all the Blob’s abilities, unclogging the arteries of a 70 year old man wasn’t one of them. Abishag was only half-heartedly listening to Summeroff berating Chet. His mind was back in Toad River. Although he’d settled back into his old role nicely and the old cruelties were being worn again like a well fitted suit – part of him missed his life of the last few years. It was simple, uncomplicated and people like Chet were other people’s problems. Still, the call of the Blob was strong. The master was not to be resisted. Reprisals – terrible reprisals – would be handed down should such insubordination rise again. That was part of what brought the Blob’s wrath on them from the last time the Order rose to prominence. Yes, it was a hearty serving of Justice the Gelatinous overlord dispensed on them. Abaddon had left the Order. That was the start of it. He left and made his way from the glory of ICW to that sad sack outfit out of MT. Vernon. nGw. The Blob punished him for it too. He’d sent part of his bio-essence to that place and it ignited at the hands of a mad man…what was his name? Was it Allen Anderson? Was that him…the memories of those days still hadn’t fully returned…but the story was pretty much back. So Abaddon was grievously injured…and suffered…he ended up in Arcadia, Oklahoma for a time. Helped train a man named Morcant Davis…but then Davis turned his back on Abaddon. In the end, the Blob who welcomed the chastised Abaddon back home. Where he belonged. Summeroff himself was assaulted by some animal in a place called RSW and almost died. The Blob, once more, reached out with one gelatinous arm and brought his healing qualities to the table. One drink of the Blob’s essence, administered by one of the Order’s returning doctors was all it took. Buzi was shot through the chest and thought dead during a siege on the Order’s Walls not long after Detroit fell all those long years ago. The Blob performed a miracle here…and actually brought Buzi back from beyond the grave…so the story goes. Others say he ALMOST died…either way – MIRACLES!!! PRAISE BLOB! Abishag himself endured his own trial. His memory wiped and he was brainwashed by sinister doctors. AND YET the Order has risen again! All the machinations of men have failed. THIS is what Summeroff was imparting on CHET now. “The decision is yours CHET…continue on your path – continue to aggravate the emissaries of the Blob…continue to be counted amongst those scumbags who stand by pedestrian walkways and wait for a car to get just close enough to pass that the driver thinks he’s going to make it – and then push the button to bring the walk signal up for yourself and a red light for the driver. Keep being an aggravating piece of shit like that and see what happens to you!!! Turn your back on this life CHET…join us of your own free will…go to the Blob on your knees with arms raised like the supplicant and plead of him to purify you and bring you into his blobular embrace…will you do this CHET? Will you join us?” “You’re insane!”,Chet screams, “You’re crazy! No I won’t join you! In fact, while you’ve been here and I’ve been pretending to listen to this crap, Gerald is probably calling the police right now!” Gerald? Ahh…the other operator. “So you won’t join us willingly?” Summeroff asks, “That is unfortunate CHET…very unfortunate. Well then I guess you will join us UNWILLINGLY…Abishag, bring forth the anointing elixir.” Abishag steps forward. In his hand – a vial of the Blob’s bio-essence. “Seize him!” Summeroff croaks and Abishag grabs Chet, tilts his head back and watches as Summeroff empties the contents of the Vial into the man’s mouth. Chet falls to the ground, choking, gasping and convulsing in seizures as the Blob’s essence saturates the cells of his body, bending the man’s will to the Blob’s own. “This is what I’m going to do to kronin”, Abishag thinks to himself. After a moment, Chet’s machinations cease. His eyes turn to black pools – vacant, pools. “He will serve the blob without question now”, Summeroff says, “Just a drone to work the sanitary detail in the Compound. He will spend his days plunging toilets and wading into that disgusting soup under the Compound to clear clogs and break down Fatbergs…shame, he could have been more…” Abishag nods and takes CHET with him back to the Limousine. Summeroff looks out and sees the Boat still out aways. “Piss on that”, he says and presses the button to lower the lift-bridge.
|
|
|
Post by moonchild on Oct 15, 2019 17:39:51 GMT -5
Written by Davey-Boy O'Brien
Son of a Sailor
Davey-Boy O’Brien took a seat on his motel mattress, still in the clothes he had been traveling in all day. O’Brien always traveled well-dressed. After all, you never knew who you might run into on the streets or at the airport. The youngster had actually found most of his clothes at a collection of thrift shops though. A deep breath escaped his lungs. Davey-Boy was actually doing it, and now it had finally settled into his head. He had been a professional wrestler for a few months now, but he was truly out on his own now. Davey tossed his duffel bag upon the bed then unzipped one of the side pockets. His hand plunged into the pocket, and reemerged instantly with a single photograph. Davey regarded the picture with an almost bittersweet happiness. His eyes shone with the longing to be able to transport himself back to perhaps another time.
The picture was of a stocky, blond gentleman approximately in his thirties or fourties. He had a pair of fisherman waders on, an a-shirt, and an old, beaten-up scally cap slightly tilted on his head. The stocky man wasn’t alone. His arm was over the shoulders of a blond kid of about eleven years old with the biggest smile on his face. Davey remembered that day like it was yesterday. That had been the day after his Da had returned from one of those long fishing excursions. Each time he had to leave it was a tear-jerking, emotional occasion. But, when he returned, there was a completely different emotion, and the tears were for another reason.
Often times, Davey and his Da would venture out into the open water with his Da’s fishing vessel and catch a wide array of fish. When they would return home with them, they would make any assortment of delicious fish dishes including Davey-Boy’s favorite, fish and chips. There wasn’t anyone on the planet who could batter and fry up a filet of fish like Davey’s Da.
This picture wasn’t just happy memories though. Davey-Boy didn’t have any overly tragic history, but when a child loses his father to the sea at 13, it affects him the rest of his natural life. Davey-Boy wanted his father look down proudly on him. His Da wanted better for him just like any good father. Davey fought the tears that threatened to flow from his eyes. It had only been about 5 years since his father had been taken by Poseidon.
Some people shut down when someone so important in their life passes away. Davey-Boy O’Brien reacted in a different way though. Davey’s maturity level was beyond his age somehow. He immediately realized as a 13-year-old, he needed to become the man of the house. That was when he took all of those lessons from Baz Jones and put them to good use at a local carnival in John O’Groats. Davey-Boy O’Brien became a carny wrestler at 13, and he never looked back.
Like clockwork, the owner of the carnival would pay O’Brien his share and he would bring it back to his Mum. At first, she tried to say no, but Davey was determined so he started slipping the money in her purse. Eventually, she just stopped fighting him on it. When she saw how determined Davey-Boy was to become a professional wrestler, his Mum went out of her way to find him the best trainer possible. What she didn’t realize is that she had found quite possibly the best trainer ever, a man simply known as Keegan.
Within a few years, Davey-Boy would find himself being signed by UKWF and Premier Grappling Club. While he was able to stay local to help his Mum, Davey remained undefeated in both organizations. Seeing her son so happy about his blossoming wrestling career only served to strengthen his urge to wrestle some of the greatest names in the industry. Pretty soon a company based out of the United States called his name. Now, one win later, here he was in the thick of UOW’s action. Davey-Boy O’Brien was already making a difference backstage by unioning up with his fellow wrestlers. Hard work should be rewarded, and the roster wasn’t asking anything of Mr. Mudcock that he couldn’t provide.
Davey looked up from the picture, realizing he had a match for which he needed to prepare. He wasn’t concerned with the size difference between himself and Jeremiah Vastrix. Truth is, he had been dwarfed by most of his opponents since he was 13. This was no different from then. Davey-Boy would just go out there and work his arse off. Wins and losses didn’t matter. What mattered was that the crowd loved him and that his parents were proud.
|
|