|
Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 16:47:21 GMT -5
|
|
|
Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 16:48:29 GMT -5
Written by Valora
UOW North Korean Chronicles: Chapter 1.2 Valora Salinas
The door opened and two guards dragged in Valora Salinas, who was kicking and struggling against her captors. The struggle was interrupted as they shoved her head and face first into a giant container of ice water. On the other side of the container, sat a Korean woman, dressed in a uniform that marked her as a high ranking officer in the North Korean military. She calmly glanced at her watch as the guards held Valora’s head under water. Finally, she gave the slightest of nods and Valora was dragged up, just long enough for her lungs to reflexively gasp for air.. A gasp that opened her lungs up for when the guards immediately plunged her head back under water. This continued for another 3 rotations before Valora was tossed to the ground at the woman’s feet and dragged up to her knees so she looked up at her captor. The unknown woman smirked and leaned forward. “Can you speak any language other than English?” She asked. Valora smirked and leaned forward a bit before speaking in Japanese. “Yes, I can speak other languages.. Like now when I say it’s too fuckin’ bad the Japanese didn’t wipe you mongrels out!” The woman’s expression darkened and she stood up hitting Valora with a vicious backhand and took a knee. “They tried. They failed. You Americans tried. You failed. And now, your country is led by another nation. A fool controlled by Moscow. Soon, Pyongyang and Beijing will also control that fool. You are a nation of whores… and very soon you will be our whores!”
She stood up and sat down, glancing over at Valora. “You obviously are no stranger to torture. Who trained you?” Valora smirked. “Rambo movies.. Something about a barely literate Italian caveman rampaging through bad guys just makes me all wet down there.” The woman smirked and nodded and the nightstick held by the guard hit Valora right in the kidneys causing her to…. Moan. The Korean woman raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.. One more time.. Who trained you?” Valora smirked. “Alright… alright.. You win… I was trained by Bruce Lee.. those fuckin nunAHHHH! Yeah!” Valora groaned/moaned again as she was hit again with the nightstick. The woman leaned back in the chair and nodded. “You will answer me whore.. Or you will watch as I torture your.. What.. lover? I know your perversion.. Is the American your lover? Your daughter? We’ve observed you since your arrival and I watched past episodes of your fighting show.. You care for her… tell me what I want to know or you will watch me break her.”
Valora sighs and lowers her head, muttering a curse under her breath. She looked up to see the woman playing with a scorpion. The scorpion rests on her hand and she talked to it sweetly in Korean.. Valora was amazed.. The creature didn’t sting her.. It was almost as if they were friends.. Or as if she had the ability to control it somehow..” The woman looked at Valora. “I am Kim Ji-Min… sometimes called Lady Scorpion. I am one of the Emperor’s Hand. I manage intelligence and espionage. I interrogate prisoners.. I am a Colonel in the North Korean Imperial Army and believe me.. If you continue to be difficult.. My friend here will sting your friend.. I will let the venom burn her blood and veins.. Let the venom bring her to the brink of death so that I can pull her back just to do it all over again…”
Valora knew that particular torture all too well and sighed. “If you’re a professional, you know torture doesn’t work.” Kim nodded. “Indeed. But it works for our purposes. The Emperor is not interested in fact. The Emperor wants to hear specific things.. My job is to ensure prisoners tell the Emperor what he wants to hear. Last chance. Who. Trained. You?”
Valora sighed and shook her head. “Touch one hair on her head, puta.. And I swear I will make you beg me for death… And you can’t scare me.. Your emperor wants us to fight.” Kim smirked. “The Emperor wants you all… to die. You think he will be upset if you are forced to fight injured?” Kim paused for a moment and nodded to her guards saying something in Korean. The guards bowed and headed out, leaving Valora and Kim alone. Valora smirked. “That was a bad move, puta.” Kim nods. “Perhaps.. But our mutual friend from Beijing wanted me to get you a message.” Valora thought for a moment. She didn’t know anyone in Beijing.. Then she thought some more and sighed. “Fuckin’ Tibetean cunt sticking her nose in my business…”Kim smirked. “She is keeping you alive. I might be able to get you and your...friend out.” Valora shakes her head. “Kronin. Big guy.. German.. He comes too.” Kim frowned. “You are asking a lot.. I can help two people survive the tournament.. I can not guarantee a third.. If he survives his fights I will try to help him. That is all I can promise.” Valora nods. “And us?” Kim nods. “I am in the tournament.. As one of his chief assassins, the Emperor wishes to highlight the skill of his military… I and a few others have been given the honor of executing people for the Emperor. I can help ensure you and Abbigail Dresden have...easier fights. A better chance of survival.” Valora shakes her head. “I don’t need it.. But Abby… she’s never fought for her life before.. Fuck.. I don’t even think she’s capable of killing someone.” Kim nods. “Then you must teach her. The Emperor’s desires are clear and if she wins and refuses to kill her foe.. She will be killed.. You all are in North Korea now.. The only way you live is to obey the Emperor..” She glanced at her watch. “And our time is up.. We will speak later…”
As she finished the comment. The guards returned with Abbigail and Kim stood up, pacing over to her. As she arrived, she caressed Abbigail’s cheek and nodded. “Answer or she meets my friend.” Valora sighed. “The CIA gave me some training.. Mexican Federal Police.. By tracking and fighting criminals and such you pick up a few things…” It was partially true.. But Valora was leaving out the bigger part. Kim nods. “Anyone else?” Valora hesitates and Kim nods and Abbigail is shoved face and head first into the ice water. Kim nods. “She will not be brought up for air until you answer. Bare in mind I have done research on you.. Your fighting career.. Anyone else?” Valora sighed. “MOSSAD…” Kim nods to the guards and Abbigail is pulled up, gasping for air.. Her face red as her lungs burn. Kim nods. “You are Jewish?” Valora gives her a deadpan look. “Do I look fuckin’ Jewish?” Kim nods. “MOSSAD doesn’t train gentiles.” Valora nods. “Sure they do.. When they leave active duty, most of them turn merc.. Hire themselves out to countries.. Criminal groups.. Anyone who can pay.. The Central and South American drug cartels use them all the time to train their death squads. I was a special case.. They were tracking a nazi war criminal.. She was moving through Mexico and other areas so they needed someone who could blend in.. I volunteered to help.. They trained me.”
Kim nodded and Abbigail was pulled out of the water, gasping and coughing as her lungs burned. Valora was not looking at Abbigail, however. Partially because Valora knew in this situation she had to be cruel to be kind. The more obvious it was that she was concerned about her, the more the North Koreans would use that to their advantage. She also partially knew that she would not want someone she cared about to see her suffering to see her.. Humiliated and taken advantage of. She would give Abbigail that same dignity. Also, Valora was busy studying the woman in charge. This Kim Ji-Min was well trained. She was smart, thorough. She had an eye for detail and was utterly ruthless. She was, in many ways, the human version of the scorpion that seemed to be the only thing she showed genuine compassion and emotion to. No doubt she was the pinnacle of North Korean training and education. She had likely been honed into what she was since birth. Carefully chiseled into the epitome of what the State wished her to be. But, as well trained as she was.. There were the ever so subtle body language clues Valora was looking for. Kim Ji-Min was a sadist. She was getting off on watching Abbigail suffer. Valora smirks. “Speaking of perversion.. Does your master know about yours?! The guards looked up puzzled and curious. Kim turned her attention to Valora who made a grand show of sniffing the air. “Oh yeah… there it is.. Such a rare and beautiful scent.. Only a select few can appreciate.. I mean truly appreciate it. But if you know what you’re looking for you can find it.. Below the smell of feces.. The coopery scent of blood.. Shit mix that with the scent I’m talking about and oh fuck.. What a heady mixture.. Beneath the dirt.. The smell of burnt flesh.. The smells of suffering.. Past all of that..” Valora paused for grand effect, taking a deep breath before looking at Kim. “Is the scent of a Korean whore who wets her panties watching people suffer. So really.. Are you doing this for your Emperor? Or because it gets you all wet down there? You even allowed to wear panties?”
Kim Ji-Min stood up and narrowed her eyes. Valora found herself giving her adversary grudging respect. Most people would have lashed out. It was the effect she was going for. Torture was all about control. The way you survived it.. Or ended it in a quick death, was to take that control away from your captor. Kim Ji-Min, however, was a true professional. And that was bad fucking news for Valora, Abbigail and the other members of the UOW roster. Kim said something to the guards in Korean and they replied instantly, taking Valora’s shirt off and dragged her back to the water basin, only this time, Valora’s entire torso and head were dunked into the water, soaking her back. Kim Ji-Min, while this was going on, calmly walked to a third basin and reached in, removing a bamboo cane that had been soaking in the water. Valora was then pulled to a standing position and secured to cuffs at her wrists and ankles. Kim Ji-Min whispered in Valora’s ear. “I know what you’re trying to do. It won’t work. As punishment.. We will see how strong your pupil is..” One of the guards grabbed Abbigail by her hair and yanked back hard, forcing her to watch as Kim swung the bamboo cane and hit Valora dead center in the back. Pain. Pure, unadulterated pain shot through Valora’s spine, spreading out to every nerve in her body as the pain spread out in waves from the epicenter of the strike. Valora did not cry out in pain. Another strike. Valora’s skin opened. Blood ran down her back. Still, she refused to cry out. A third strike. Then a fourth. Blood trickled out of Valora’s mouth because of how hard she was biting her lip to avoid crying out.
Abbigail however, saw the pain in Valora’s eyes with each strike. At 6 Abbigail cried out. “Stop it! God Damn it! Stop it *now!!” Kim answered with two more strikes. The most Valora gave was a small grunt. Kim set the cane aside and nodded, walking around Valora, glancing at her captive with might almost be a semblance of respect at the woman’s ability to endure pain. The moment was brief, however and Kim nodded. “So.. the American is not as well trained as you are. Useful.” Kim glanced at Valora’s back and nodded, speaking to the guards in Korean, gesturing to the bloodied back of Valora, switching back to her heavily accented English as she addresses Valora, “I think I have an idea.” She says before she leaves the room with her guards, leaving Valora and Abbigail alone for a few moments. Valora sighs and looks at Abbigail. “Quit giving her control. You’re making her job easier by showing her what you care about.”
Abbigail shrugged. “They can’t keep torturing us forever, can they? They want to see us fight.” Valora smirks. “No, young grasshopper.. They want us to die.” Valora was about to continue, but they were interrupted by Kim Ji-Min walking back into the room and looking at a list. She glanced at Valora. “I believe you will face the old American. Reagan. In a Inferno match.” Valora smirks a bit. “So you think I’ll have any problem at all lighting that old man on fire like a Roman Candle on the Fourth of fuckin’ July?” Kim smirked. “I imagine you’ll have no problem at all with that. But it serves the Emperor. He wishes to see the old American die. You have a choice. Kill the American you face or your pupil here will suffer for you displeasing the Emperor.” Valora nods. “And is there a reward for doing your dirty work?” Kim nods. “Prove you can be useful to the Emperor. Prove you can do as you are told and your treatment will improve. We might reduce or stop torture.. We might even feed you real food.” Kim smirks evily and sets the bottle of tequila on the table. “I know you need this. Keep resisting and it only gets harder.. You can’t fight at full potential while suffering from withdrawal. Do as the Emperor commands, the bottle is yours.”
Valora sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine.. you want him dead.. I’ll kill him. But my cooperation has a price.” Kim nods. “Yes. I’m sure I know what it is too. But no changes until you prove you are willing to cooperate. Kill. Walter. Reagan. The Emperor commands it.” Valora lowers her head for a bit, knowing for the moment she is defeated and nods. “Fine… one dead gringo, coming up. Does the Emperor want original recipe or extra crispy?” Abbigail snickers and laughs a bit as Kim nods. “Make sure he dies. The details are up to you. We look forward to seeing if you are as… creative as rumors suggest.”
To be Continued in Next story segment
|
|
|
Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 16:49:50 GMT -5
Written by Valora
UOW: North Korean Chronicles, Chapter 1: Kim Ji-Min:
Kim Ji-Min sat in her office and looked over the dossiers in front of her. It was her job to determine who of the American invaders could be useful to the regime and who needed to be.. Made an example of. She had initially marked out this ‘Cult of the Blob.’ for liquidation. They were obviously dangerous and could not be allowed to survive. The Emperor and his family were the only recognized deities in North Korea and the country would tolerate no other dissenting thoughts on the matter. She had also singled out Kronin and Valora as people to keep an eye on. They both did a decent job of hiding it, but neither could hide their advanced military training. Kim Ji-Min shuffled her documents to a folder given to her by her ally in Beijing. Kronin indeed had military training. German KSK, special forces. He would definitely require observation. Valora was an assassin, apparently. That seemed to confirm the rumors they had heard before hand. That these ‘wrestlers’ were coming to North Korea to launch some sort of pre-emptive strike on the country. Maybe even a cover for an invasion from the South! Kin Ji-Min narrowed her eyes at the thought. Her grandfather had fought in the original Korean War. Her father had fought in numerous border skirmishes since. She had been lucky enough to be allowed to carry on the family tradition, advancing higher in rank than any previous member of her family to the point where she was one of the Emperor’s closest and most trusted advisers. Now, she had been named as one of the Emperor’s champions for this tournament. To make the honor even more meaningful, she was getting a chance to fight the very example of America. ‘Huckleberry’ An arrogant, simple minded dotard. Someone who could barely speak his own native language. Someone who fought animals and thought that proved he was something other than an uncouth, mindless barbarian. Like most Americans. His country had threatened North Korea since it came into existence. Every day, North Korean’s state TV pointed out how close the Americans were to invading. Kim Ji-Min had grown up every day of her life fearing that today was the day the Americans decided to try and sate their bloodlust by attacking North Korea. She had grown up determined to protect herself and her people from that and now, she would make an example of this Huckleberry. She was set to fight him in a C4 Explosive match and would take great joy in blowing him up. Making him beg for mercy and, with luck, ending his life in that ring in front of everyone.
She set Huckeberry’s file aside for now. She would come back to that. For now, she shifted her focus to Valora Salinas and Abbigail Dresden. It was an odd relationship. Valora had traditionally spoken very critically out against caucasians. Now she was at times risking herself to protect this one. She checked the ages of the two women and thought for a moment before nodding and putting in an order to have a blood sample drawn from each woman. If nothing else, it would give her more information than she had right now and that was something. She then stood up and walked to her mirror on the wall. Her full length mirror was a luxury most in her country could only dream about owning. She looked over the military uniform she wore and ruthlessly inspected it. The medals and awards she wore, her rank insignias. Her unit ids. All of it was scrutinized. She, like her beloved Emperor, demanded absolute perfection. Nothing less could be tolerated. This was the mindset those corrupt lazy Americans were facing. She had been trained literally from birth for her role. She had been accepted into the North Korean special operations group. This was North Korea’s special forces. People who trained better and harder than most Olympic athletes. People who were so fanatically loyal to the Emperor that they would volunteer to be executed, rather than fail a mission. That lesson had been drilled into her head and had even been put into practice once, many years ago.
flashback: Korean DMZ: 4 years ago:
The group made it into a group of bushes and ducked down. In the distance, American voices shouted. South Korean voices as well, speaking in English and Korean. Kim looked ahead. They were not safe yet. She looked back at the one slowing them down, and the blood leaking from his leg. She narrowed her eyes and he nodded, dropping to his knees. “Do it. We must not be caught here.” Without hesitation, Kim Ji-Min drew her knife slit his throat. Their enemy was too close to risk a gunshot. She looked into the man’s eyes and calmly, coldly, watched the life bleed out. The last thing he heard was her whisper. “You have redeemed yourself for failing the Emperor, comrade. Rest now.” Just like that, Kim and the others were gone. Without the blood trail to follow, their pursuers were soon left behind and one dead body could hardly be called a conspiracy…
As her thoughts returned to the past, Kim nodded. She felt no remorse or regret for her actions that night.. Or any of countless actions she had taken since. She would do whatever was needed to secure the safety of her country. Seeing her uniform perfect and passing her inspections, she put on her cap and spun sharply on her heel and walked out. Her first stop was the gym. Where she changed into her workout fatigues. This led to 3 hours of long distance running. Followed by two hours of Tae Kwon Do and Hapkido training. This cycle would repeat later on and every day as it had for most of her life. Her morning training wrapped up, she made her way to lunch. From there, it was back to her office.
As she walked through the halls to her office, she was stopped by one of her comrades. “Colonel. You have a call.” Kim raised an eyebrow and nodded, ordering it routed to her office. Entering her office, she sat at her desk and turned on the video chat. She, being one of the lucky few who had access to such technology, limited and heavily monitored as it was. The face that appeared was that of Jade, her friend, ally and contact from China that she had met during one of her numerous trips down to that country. Jade nodded, bowing her head slightly in respect, a gesture that Kim returned. “What do I owe this unexpected pleasure to?” Jade nodded. “I heard tell that you have some new guests.” Kim smirked a bit. “Indeed. We are introducing them to North Korean Hospitality. I imagine they will find it enlightening.” Jade smiled sardonically at this. “Perhaps I’ll visit and watch the spectacle. Did you get the gift I sent you? I know how you view such things, but I thought you might like the chance to try some tequila. Not the most..sophisticated of drinks, but for as crude and simple as it appears on the outside, the insides offer some amazing details to the trained connoisseur.”
Kim thought about this for a second. Jade had indeed sent a bottle of tequila to her, but Kim knew her friend well enough to know that she was not referring to the obvious. Kim nodded. “Yes well.. I haven’t tried it yet. I’m quite busy at the moment and I don’t have time for indulgences.” This was not only true, but more importantly, it was what those listening in would likely be expecting to hear. Jade nodded. “Be sure you try it. I’ll want your thoughts when next we have a chance to speak..” The two continued their chat for a few minutes discussing the upcoming tournament and whether or not Jade would be appearing, before ending the call to allow Kim to return to her work. She leaned back in her chair and thought for a bit, glancing at the file opened to Valora Salinas. Who was Mexican, and had a penchant for...tequila. Indeed, if the videoes of her Kim had seen were anything to go on, the woman was an alcoholic. Meaning that this tournament was not going to be kind to her.. Especially as withdrawal kicked in. That weakness was her opportunity. She pushed a button on her desk and the door opened and a man walked in, snapping her a sharp salute. She returned the salute. “The Mexican.” She said simply, in Korean. He nodded once to indicate he understood who was being referred to. Kim glanced at the folder. “Room 317. I imagine by now she will be thirsty. Give her some ice water.” The man smirked a bit as he knew what was being ordered and hurried off to fulfill the orders. Kim thought for a few moments and decided to begin the fun for some of the other ‘guests’ as well. Beginning with her opponent, Huckleberry. She brought up his file on the desk and wrote out the orders for his treatment. Sleep Deprivation. No sleep. At all. Not even a minute. No food. 2 glasses of water per day. Moderate labor. If he insisted on acting like a barbarian, Kim Ji-Min would treat him like one. It would be interesting to see how long it took him to resort to finding his own ‘food’. These Americans had no honor or dignity after all. Grabbing the bottle of tequila, she left her office and handed the envelope containing the orders for Huckleberry’s internment treatment off to a subordinate who promptly headed off to deliver them to the proper personnel. She then made her way down the hallway. She was going to start an entirely new part of her day now. The fun part.
|
|
|
Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 16:52:35 GMT -5
Written by Dr. Summeroff
Countdown to DeathSport
Abishag is lying in a cell with Buzi standing over him. The elder is holding a large capsule.
“Take this. Quickly. Before the guards return.”
Abishag takes the pill and swallows it dry.
“How did you manage to hide this?” Abishag asks.
“You don’t want to know”, Buzi replies dryly.
“You’re right. I don’t”, Abishag says as he feels like gagging.
The capsule dissolves quickly and the precious liquid makes its way into all of Abishag’s organs and infuses them – binds with them – so that Abishag and the Blob are one.
The Blob’s very essence…in capsule form.
Fast acting.
It isn’t long before the gelatinous master parts the dimensions and Abishag sees many different visions – different realities. They unfold before him – like the wares of a back alley peddler being presented on a very large carpet. Summeroff told him the master had this ability – to show alternate realities and such. The stuff of science fiction and make believe.
Except it wasn’t as far-fetched as he thought.
It was real.
It was happening right now.
Abishag was a passenger now, riding the brane’s of various alternate universes. It was a bumpy ride but at last the Blob settled on one very relevant reality he wanted Abishag to see.
The aftermath of a boiling pool match. The very type of match Kim had him competing in at Death Sport. Apparently he had done this before…somewhere.
A voice speaks – ethereal but firm….
“This….is what happens when you lose…most die…some are saved. YOU were saved….at great cost…death itself wrapped its cold arms around…I pried those arms away.”
Abishag was in awe….the Blob itself. Often Summeroff would speak of communing with the master…VERY rare indeed did the Blob speak to his children directly.
“Look now…look upon another scene…another time. Look at what awaits should you fall into the Boiling Pool AGAIN….”
We are shown a view from above – a huge crowd roaring it’s approval as Abishag sees himself…and another - Someone called Eric Dillinger – locked in combat on the edge of a platform of some kind as the boiling pool sits ominously below, waiting for its chance to do what it was created to do. Cook wrestlers to their very deaths! Only a sick and twisted mind could even conceive of such atrocity!
“Behold!” The Blob roars.
“Abishag finally gets to his feet a bit Dazed and completely unaware of Dillinger’s location in the ring. Dillinger leaps of the top rope like a bull frog and nails Abishag with a cross body, but Abishag is able to catch Dillinger in his arms, but the weight and momentum of the 265 pound Dillinger causes Abishag to lose his balance and fall backward against the top rope, up over it causing both men to fall into the boiling water at the same time!”
Dillinger and Abishag flail around in the water screaming like women giving birth in the delivery room of a hospital. ECWC officialsl toss out life preserves to them in attempt to pull them in toward the edge of the pool. By the time Abishag and Dillinger are out of the pool they covered in blisters from head to toe with 2nd degree burns on the majority of the lower half of their bodies.
Abishag cringes at the sight. His body pulled from the boiling pool, pustules exploding and expelling pus and blood all over the floor, his body twitching and convulsing in death throes.
“I survived that?” Abishag questions.
“No…your body died…” The blob answers, “But I brought you back. As I said, I pried the arms of Death away…look now as my grace saved you from certain doom…”
Abishag looks down at the scene before him.
The acolyte Lotus begins to type some commands into a computer console. He puts his arm in a tube. What appear to be goggles emerge from the side of the console. Lotus puts them on. Garm moves over to the tank and begins to push some buttons. The light in the room dims. Other lights come on giving a redish, orange glow. The top of the Blob’s tank begins to depressurize. A robotic arm, controlled by Lotus remotely moves over the opening in the tank and enters the water. The arm has a device on it meant for cutting. It lowers slowly...ever so slowly towards the mass of floating Blob.
“Easy Lotus...” Herman says, clearly nervous.
They must be very carefull. In the previous times they removed tissue from the Blob, they only required small samples. This time, they needed a lot. It was unusual for Summeroff to approve the removal of this much tissue from the Blob for one man. Summeroff watches intently as the acolytes encase Abishag in a bodycast of Blob material.
“I healed you…drained the toxins from your bloodstream and promoted the healing of the flesh. THIS is what awaits you should you fail again…this time though…you will suffer your agonies alone. Should you live – you will live in a cocoon of suffering as you slowly heal over many months or years. You will be left disfigured and gross – a sight to terrify children, a source of ridicule. Your failure will be burned into every pore, every grey hair and every wrinkle.”
With that, the voice of the blob fails and Abishag opens his eyes.
He is back in their cell along with Abaddon and Buzi. It large enough to house two cots – each with mattresses full of years old seminal fluids, dried sweat and various blood and shit stains. There is not much room outside of that. There is a small square opening with bars across it higher up on the wall where only the smallest shades of light penetrate. The air is dank. Black mold grows on parts of the walls.
The holding cell is an unhealthy place – a place fit for those Kim respects. Apparently Kim was a huge fan of the Order. One can only imagine where Kim held those he didn’t like…or what monstrosities he unleashed on them…
Buzi had heard of such a creature Kim kept. Something horrible and twisted with two arms fashioned into claws.
Buzi had listened carefully to the chatter back and forth from the other captives here in the democratic republic and specifically – this cell block. The loud mouthed Mexica – Salinas. She was here. So was that Irish mick O’Brien. He was already well versed in the intricacies of the UOW prisoners. Especially his own opponent. Kronin…
It was what he heard about the other poor souls tossed into this tournament that interested him. Kim’s creature…some Korean Ninja lady…
And Abishag’s opponent. Blake Luthor.
Abishag had taken an interest in him as well.
Emboldened now by the Blob’s vision, he walks over to the bars at the front of the cell and hollers out.
“Luthor! You answer me! I know you’re out there….and I’m waiting for you. It’s a boiling pool match Luthor…a boiling pool…do you know what it feels like to have the skin on your bones cooked…charred…fried…like a chicken….Do you know how it feels as the burning sears you like a steak – as the heat sinks into your flesh and the water boils to the top and erupts from your arms and legs and chest and your entire body? Do you know Luthor!? Oh Blake Luthor…you poor misguided thing…what you must have done to have ended up here – ready to do battle with me…ALL of you…Salinas! Kronin! Dresden! …and Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you Sato!...You will all finally face the Blob’s final judgement….no longer can you be saved by run-in’s….by the bell…by that fool Bob Sigro! There is only the Blob’s justice here in the Democratic Republic…I’ve been in something like this before you see…I’m tempered now, forged through the crucible of mortal combat! Sato!? What is your greatest worry?”
“SHUT UP IN THERE!” a voice booms out…the voice of Blake Luthor.
“Ah. There he is”, Abishag says, as if speaking to a lost child found. “There he is. Luthor…it’s not too late to back out….I hear you are a loaner…a Warhammer Wrestling reject…you have no place here…poor Luthor…when you are in the ring with me and as I hold your squirming body high over the boiling pool so you can listen to the pool bubble and feel the humidity increasing….I want you to remember that you had a choice…yes, you may think you don’t…Kim is going to make you fight no matter what…but you DO have a choice. Your cellmate is Jeremiah Vastrix…awaken him and get him to use his cybernetic eye on you….it’s been known to discharge energy at times…attack him….allow him to execute you…better that then be dropped into the boiling pool….”
“Piss off!” Luther hollers.
“Very well…” Abshag says and turns away and now faces Abaddon and Buzi.
“And what about you Brother?” he says to Buzi, “It’s been a long time since we saw YOU in the ring. Do you think you can handle Kronin?”
“That German has been on the downside of his career for a year now…his best days are far, far in the past. I could beat him with my eyes closed.”
“Maybe so”, Abishag says, “But this is in an electrified steel cage…you lose your balance…even one time…and he could push you into it…even the Blob would be hard pressed to return you to life then…”
Buzi nods in understanding.
Abishag grunts and returns to one of the cots. He sits down and the mattress makes a crunching noise.
“Jesus…” Abaddon says in disgust.
Both Buzi and Abishag glare at Abaddon – eyes bulging.
“DON’T EVER….EVER say that name here again…you have offended the blob my brother saying the name of that false messiah. Pray to him…pray to him now…as will we. We must all have his strength and his guidance…Death Sport is real. The stakes are real…”
Buzi turns to Abishag, “Brother…have you thought what we should do should the day come if we have to face each other in this tournament…”
“Indeed”, Abishag says, “When that day arrives, the Blob will have a decision to make, won’t he?”
|
|
|
Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 16:54:12 GMT -5
Written by Vastrix
Gilded Cage
“God’s Gift” Jeremiah Vastrix sits up in a beautiful bed in an apartment in one of the top floors of the Ryugyong Hotel, one of the tallest hotels in the entire world. He slips out of bed in just a pair of underpants to walk over to the window. He reaches up to touch the different bandages nearly cloaking his face in mystery. The battle against essentially the entire leadership of the Order of the Blob was intense. He had wanted a win, but couldn’t have really expected more than the beating that he was given.
A beautiful Korean woman slips out of the bed nude and walks up behind Jeremiah to put her arms around him. Jeremiah stiffens a little at the contact of her flesh against his, but relaxes a little. He speaks softly with a sad smile.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: It’s a beautiful morning, Ko Da-Hae. I wonder if this gilded prison will include breakfast?
KO DA-HAE: I think we can come up with something for you. Need to have your health up before the Supreme Leader’s warriors kill you.
Jeremiah chuckles.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: Why am I to be treated with all of this opulence before I am to die?
KO DA-HAE: Because the Supreme Leader would prefer to see you die with dignity. He feels that it is something owed to the son of the man who helped get this hotel finally opened.
Jeremiah laughs bitterly.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: My father will no doubt be in attendance for the show. I wonder if he will cheer for my death or mourn me? Maybe a bit of both. My mother will be the one to mourn me. My father is the one paranoid that I will kill him to take his position in the company just like he did to Grandfather.
KO DA-HAE: Some whisper that is how Supreme Leader became who he is, but we do not say that here.
Jeremiah spins around in Da-Hae’s grasp to face her while she clutches onto him. There’s a twinge in his face to reveal that the contact is really unwanted, but he smiles anyway.
Being that Jeremiah has been imprisoned since he tried to kill the President, he does not know that his fiance is in the hospital under the watchful eye of Johnny Melange.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: Can you tell me about my upcoming opponent so I can at least prepare? Maybe a debriefing from the Supreme Leader himself?
Ko Da-Hae shakes her head with a sad smile.
KO DA-HAE: You are being honored with a room at the hotel that your father helped to see to fruition. You will not be granted audience with the Supreme Leader or told about whom you will be facing in the Death Sport tournament. The Supreme Leader knows about the bomb inside of your cybernetic eye and he has the remote control. Still, he will take no chances to allow yyou to be near enough to try to set the bomb off and take him out as well. I am sorry that you are going to die. You are such a nice man.
Jeremiah squeezes Do-Hae tight, lifting her up, walking to the bed, and tossing her back into it.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: If I am to die, I may as well get some pleasure before I die, and earn you a bonus.
Da-Hae lays back on the bed with a wide grin as Jeremiah takes down his underwear.
KO DA-HAE: Why, Mr. Vastrix! I do believe that I will be getting that bonus right about now.
The next day, Jeremiah Vastrix rises from the bed nude to see Ko Da-Hae standing (also nude) at the window. She has her cell phone in hand and appears to be talking to it.
KO DA-HAE: Naneun dangsin-i geugeos-eul bakkugi wihae mueos-eulhaeyahaneunji sang-gwanhaji anhneunda! geunyang bakkwo! (I don’t care what you have to do to change it. Just change it!)
Jeremiah wraps his arms around her, feeling her stiffen beneath his touch.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: Is there something wrong?
Da-Hae hangs up the phone and wipes at her eyes with a weak smile.
KO DA-HAE: Of course not! I’m just sad that our time is going to come to an end.
Jeremiah gives Da-Hae a gentle squeeze with his arms, pressing himself against her behind. she grinds back against him, moaning softly.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: Naega hangug-eoleul hal su issdaneun geos-eul algo issseubnikka? bijeuniseu gyoyug-ui ilhwan-eulo yeoleo eon-eoleul algo issseubnida. (You do realize that I can speak Korean? I know more than a score of languages as part of my business training.)
Da-Hae’s knees give out on her, but Jeremiah keeps hold to not let her fall. She quickly regains herself.
KO DA-HAE: You face Belial in the first round in a hang-man match. You have to hang your opponent by the neck.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: Yeah? That doesn’t sound like too much of a problem. I can handle just about anyone. I would have defeated Abishag if not for his cronies getting involved in the match.
Da-Hae slowly spins around in Jeremiah’s grasp so that he can see her tear stricken face.
KO DA-HAE: You don’t understand! Belial is an experiment gone horribly wrong! He doesn’t have a neck at all! He’s more of a small amorphous blob with arms and teeth with a terrible, awful strength that can rip the head off of an adult male so that he can excrete a tightly coiled bit of feces down the neck of said adult male.
The color drains from Jeremiah’s face as he tries to picture just such a monstrosity.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: I guess I will just have to tie his little ass up and play basketball with him.
KO DA-HAE: I...I think you should take this deadly serious. Basketcase has slaughtered many in the process of its training.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: Basketcase?
KO DA-HAE: The codename for the project. He often spends his time inside of a basket.
Jeremiah squeezes Da-Hae tight with a grin.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: Let’s have some fun, have breakfast, and then you can tell me everything that you know about the creature codenamed Basketcase.
|
|
|
Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 16:54:54 GMT -5
Written by Vastrix
Handful of Nails
Inside of a prison in Pyongyang, North Korea, “Hammerhand” Blake Luthor paces as if he were a caged tiger. He occasionally glances from his prison cell to see many of the other fighters that have been imprisoned there to fight for the Death Sport Tournament. Many of them from some American wrestling company.
Blake knows that he probably shouldn’t be in a prison cell as he’s on loan from the Warhammer Corporation, but this is the kind of accommodations that he is used to having where he normally spends his days.
The Akira Dome. A hidden pit of death and despair where the elite of the Warhammer Corporation and indeed the entire world go to satiate their bloodthirsty desires in watching death sport. It is the dream combat ring of the elite and the dreaded nightmare for the incompetent have the chance to find their way into the pits to try to fight their way back into favor.
Blake has spent more than twenty years in the Akira Dome. An accountant in what seems like a former life, Blake was caught embezzling funds. Instead of spending time in prison, Blake elected to go to the Akira Dome where he could put his skills in bare knuckle boxing to the test. As he found out, he really enjoyed fighting others to the death. He’s paid his debts to the company many times over and now fights to line his own pockets. Not that he can reach into his own pockets with ease anymore. Much of the money he earns goes to pain killing drugs to ease the pain in his hands, though he does find that the blood of his enemies makes for the best kind of pain relieving lotion.
BLAKE LUTHOR: Death Sport Tournament. It’s a funny thing that they come up with like it’s brand new.
Blake punches one of the bars of the prison, denting it with ease though the impact does break the skin of his knuckle to reveal dull metal beneath the blood.
BLAKE LUTHOR: You people are nothing but a bunch of nails to be driven into the wood and I have the fucking hammers.
A guard walks by at this time and looks at Blake with a chuckle.
GUARD: Dangsin-eun jug-eul salam-e daehan jasingam-i kkeumjjighabnida.
Blake flexes his fingers in his hands with a grim smile as the sounds of metallic pings fill the air.
BLAKE LUTHOR: I don’t know what the fuck you just said, but you know I ain’t here cause I’m like one of those American wrestler people. I’m here to be a fucking executioner!
The guard gets nearer to the bars with an arrogant grin.
GUARD: You not belong here. You here for dying. BLAKE LUTHOR: Is that so? You know what though?
A quick palm strike to the bars hard enough to do a slight bend scares the guard backwards. The door to the cell swings open as Blake regards the guard with a sadistic grin.
BLAKE LUTHOR: I was invited here and I requested to be held in a cell to keep my focus instead of the luxury that they wanted to put me in. You wanna keep talking smack?
Blake steps outside of the cell and begins to walk towards the guard, who begins to back away rapidly.
GUARD: So sorry! So sorry! I not know!
Blake continues to walk toward the guard with an evil grin until the guard backs into a cell containing a prisoner from UOW.
A hand darts out from the cell, grabs the guard by the back of the shirt, and brings him back to slam against the bars to knock him out. Blake Luthor laughs at the sight of Valora Salinas trying to find some keys.
BLAKE LUTHOR: If he could have locked the door on me, you know he would have slammed that fucker shut and locked it.
VALORA SALINAS: Fucking shits aren’t trusted enough to keep keys on their belts?
Blake just shrugs with a laugh.
BLAKE LUTHOR: I know I wouldn’t, nail.
Blake heads back to his cell, closing the door behind him.
VALORA SALINAS: Who are you calling a nail, punta?
Blake raises a fist.
BLAKE LUTHOR: The mother fucking hammer is.
|
|
|
Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 16:55:56 GMT -5
Written by CreativeTruth
Deadly Explosives and Weapons of Mass Destruction
This post is a fictional writing roleplay, and a complete satire. This is my submission for the UOW roleplay contest. In the bottom of this post, you can learn more about UOW, and how to participate.
Huckleberry_Banner1.jpg
Alone in a cell.
The lights were flickering. The frost on the walls made his breath come out in plumes of crystal smoke. Bent over in defeat, he had one single focus.
Huckleberry started singing.
"On top of spaghetti, All covered with cheese, I lost my poor meatball, When somebody sneezed."
Huckleberry: Holy Mackerel, I gotta know what kind of soap they use on this here crapper. Cleanest crapper in the seven kingdoms, I guaran-damn-tee it.
SLURP, SLURP, SLURP
Huckleberry: Well I'll be a my mother's uncle, even the water's cleaner than a baby's bottom. Tastes better than a Aquafina served in a frosty mug. I could make a mighty fine moonshine right here with this here sparklin' crapper water. Looks like I straight up died and gone to heaven. Damn, if I really wuz in heaven, eyed ask Gawd fer a ball a frod chickin, a case of Jack Daniels, a pack of cigarettes. Eyed ruther be in hell then go cold turkey.
SLURP, SLURP, SLURP
A security guard walks by and gasps when he sees the hillbilly's crack smiling above his drawers. When he realizes that the redneck wrestler is drinking water out of the toilet, he blows a whistle. Another security guard arrives on the scene, equally flabbergasted.
Security Guard #50291: Yol stoppa drink watel! Notta fol consulption.
Security Guard #90343: Our order. Strick diet. No watel. No foot. No slep. In two week, you fot Kim Ji-Min. Den you go home fwee.
Standing up, Huckleberry faces the guards and starts laying them down low with his best chosen words.
Huckleberry: Naw ya listen to me ya dimple cheek Jugheads. First vall, I only fart win I'm eatin' beans and broccoli, and I ain't had needer of them. I tried Kimchee once, and it gave me the runs for six days, and on the seventh day, I prayed on the porcelain throne all day long, and then I rested.
The country bumpkin clears his throat of something nasty, and spits a brown stain on the cement floor.
Huckleberry: Holy hell, I'm just gettin' warmed up. See, I got a fat coming up, and its says its gonna involve explosives. Son, I been a certified explosives expert before you was in diapers. Mammy said I shot out between her legs faster'n a pipe bomb in a mailbox. Win I wuz three, my daddy gave me cherry bombs fer my birthday. Win I wuz five, daddy knocked out my baby teeth in one shot wif uh beer bottle, a bottle cap, a mountain dew, and handful of Pop Rocks. Win I wuz non, daddy showed me how to take out gophers with a sticka dynamite and a cigarette. Win I wuz fourteen, my cousin tried to do me in when she found out I'd been foolin' round with her momma, and she stuck a loaded cap gun in her---
Security Guard #50291: No, no, no! You fot Kim Ji-Min. You da.
The security guards laugh and point at poor Huckleberry.
Huckleberry: Oh yeah?
SPLU-UUU-URG-GEE
The guards shudder in horror, pinching their noses and waving their hands frantically in the air. Guard #90343 passes out.
Huckleberry: See what you dun asked for? You wanna fart? Well, that there was the Chef's Special. Only gunna git worse if you ask me to eat that Kimchee once agin. So you listen to me, and listen good. I git a phone call. I got rats ya see. One phone call. I know my rats.
The security guard hits a red button on the wall. Sirens start screaming. More guards in uniform arrive. The gate opens to the cell, and they start wailing on Huckleberry with batons. He continues singing the meatball song for quite some time enduring kicks, punches, and hits across his entire body. Eventually he stops moving. He stops singing.
Three of the guards starts waving their hands frantically in the air and run.
They fall over unconsciousness not far from Huckleberry.
Silent, but deadly.
Two hours later...
Inside a white room with bright fluorescent lights, Huckleberry is bent over once again, this time seated with his head smooshed down on a table. A Korean with a badge labeled Captain #47377 stands over watching him. On the wall, a set of speakers loudly vocalize a dull voice from somewhere unseen.
Speakers: Wok heem op.
The captain nods to the mirror wall, and uncorks a vial which he waves under the dumb SOB's nostrils. In and instant, Huckleberry's bloodshot eyes shoot open.
Huckleberry: Charnelle? Charnelle?
He slams his fist on the table.
Huckleberry: Corn! Wide ye hafta wake me up? I wuz dreamin' my niece was bowta tell me she upgraded the comcast to watch NASCAR on ESPN. I think you owe me un explantion!
Captain #47377: Why you say you have wats in your cell?
Huckleberry: I ain't got no critters. If I did, I'd be the ferst ta know.
Captain #47377: You said wats. We find no wats in your cell. Why you say you have wats? You hide wats? You eat wats?
Huckleberry: Sir, you gotta hearing problem? I ain't said I had any critters. If I did, eyed uh shared 'em with yer poor starvin' families, and put some food on the damn table for a change. All I said, is I want my phone call. I git one phone call. You know it. I know it. Can't lock me up wit'out giving me my damn phone call. I know my rats.
Captain #47377: ....
BZZZZZZZZzzzzz
The buzzer opens the door and a man carrying an old style black rotary phone enters. He places it on the table.
Speakers: One call Mista Huckrabally. Then bok to cell.
The idiot grabs the phone and puts it to his ear. He taps the switch hook, and dials zero, and starts hollering.
Huckleberry: Hello? Hello? Operator? I wanna speak to... to the King of Nigeria!
The guard captain chuckles.
Huckleberry: Quit yer jabberin'. This is a gen-u-won e-mer-gen-cee! You git the King of Nigeria on the phone, err mark ma werds. McStrump is gonna order the next Atlas of the world to be re-drawn without this pig sty of a country on the map.
Silence.
Suddenly a voice with a terribly fake accent responds from the phone.
Phone: Hulloo? Dis is Kong of Nojirya.
Huckleberry: Ahh, now we're tawkin'! My name is Huckleberry, and ah um ready to give you my bank account numba so you kin deposit the four million, seven hundred thousand, nine hundred euros ye promised me last week in an email proposition correspondence. My numba is ten-forty-five-double O-niner...
|
|
|
Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 16:56:57 GMT -5
Written by Dr. Summeroff
What ever happened to Belial?
Calm…
There is no calm.
BE CALM! DAMMIT!
Still, the anger.
Always that anger. That rage. That hurt.
It was always there in him. Driving him. Giving him that unquenchable thirst for murder. For revenge.
Revenge against the world.
If he was back home in America, they would have hunted him down by now.
Not the usual suspects either – Sideshow purveyors, small town cops. No…given the body count that had been mounting – and after he destroyed that entire police department in that po-dunk town…
It would have been the US ARMY coming for him.
And so he left Granny Ruth and his brother and even his own misbegotten and horribly disfigured children behind in America.
How he came to become one of Kim’s Champions in North Korea is a long and very strange tale. We will look at the highlights here.
However, like any tale, it’s the details that make it full, the make it rich, that bring the ordinary to life and give color to the otherwise bland canvas.
YOU, reader – YOU will get none of that. We have no time for such detail. We’ll give you enough though in the spots we do highlight – you will feel sadness, remorse, terror and disgust. When the light shines – it will shine brightly and you might even wonder if what you are reading is real…or fiction...
How about we say it’s a mix of both and anything not covered – you fill in the blanks?
Now, come with me.
We part the veils of time – we delve in to the past.
It’s 1991. We see a triumphant Belial – standing over the corpse of Renaldo. Renaldo was a talk show host. On this fateful day, he decided to do a show on “Freaks…and the women who love them”.
This was a big mistake, given Belial was in a nearby town on Granny Ruth’s bus. Belial – a conjoined twin cut from his brother and left for dead. He was tossed into the garbage by his own father. He was called a monster. Dwayne – his brother – was his father’s true son….
…Not the sick, twisted freak attached to his side.
So ‘DAD’ had said.
Belial was essentially a ball of round malformed flesh with two arms protruding from his sides….these arms also acted as legs. He was, as many who later met grisly ends would say – hideous.
Hence, Renaldo’s show touched a nerve. For him…and for the rest of the Unique individuals on Granny Ruth’s bus…and so the bus emptied and Renaldo felt the full wrath of Belial.
In his last moments, the talk show host tried to apologize…he begged for his life but Belial was outraged and would not hear it. He used his claw like hands to rip the face clean off Renaldo…and then stuffed that torn off face into his ear. Renaldo screamed as Belial pulled the skin through one ear and reached into the other ear, tearing through the hole and into his brain to retrieve the other side of the face and pull it through. It was like bringing through a bloodied dish towel. After that, with the police closing in, Belial vanished. He made his way out the back of the studio where the show was filmed and took refuge in the woods behind it, rolling down a large hill there and down into a gorge. Eventually he found his way to a river…
And from there, the details are sketchy. We know he turned up in Chichen Itza in Mexico roughly five years from when he was last seen on Renaldo. The Pyramids there were vandalized at some point with crude drawings of Belial and some folks there will actually tell you about the time Belial spent there with them. They worshipped him as some sort of god and even to this very day, a small sect of Belial Cult Worshippers remains in that part of the world. They say he was amongst them for 5 years and there are some photographs to prove it. Belial lived like a king amongst the Mexican folk. He was adorned in jewellery, silk and was presented what seemed like an endless stream of women to try and sait his voracious sexual appetite.
TO no avail, if you asked the people. Belial was ravenous….but eventually his lust for blood overwhelmed his lust for the pleasures of the flesh. It was the rage in him…the burning anger….
At night he would awaken, screaming, remembering how the veterinarian’s blade felt as it sliced into him – the pain as he was cut from his brother like gristle cut from a steak.
He would remember that long ago anguish and loss as he was discarded in the trash like so much flotsam. His own father had him carved up and left for dead.
What chance did he have?
And so after years of being worshipped by his Mexican cult – using their women over and over while their husbands slept in cold beds, using their drugs like candies, eating their finest fruits and savouring their best meats…in the end, even paradise couldn’t dull that ache in his heart. Couldn’t fill the void in his soul.
So he left. More years passed… a lot of them infact. So many that Belial passed from reality into myth. He was spoken of in hushed tones and then not at all. It was like he never existed at all…
…unless you went to a certain Mexican village where many of the children bore similar deformities as their father.
There, the women would tell tales of Belial and would smile as they remembered his urgency and ferocity when they lay together. The men would talk about the drug induced communing with higher powers. The feasts. To those people, it was like he never left.
To Belial though, those days of avarice were long in the past.
For we now find him in modern times – just a couple of years ago after making his way to North Korea. There, he was finally free to be himself.
To be the monster his father thought he was.
His Korean adventures were legendary. He took to the streets and, feeling no sympathy at all for the plight of the ungrateful students and religious zealots, he butchered them one after the other. Wives forced to eat the severed limbs of their husbands before he took them…Students made to praise the government as their bones were broken. Belial debased everyone he came in contact with, one after the other and at last he felt that hole in his heart being filled. Bringing misery to a people who didn’t think they could sink any lower. THIS was his calling. He would tear of faces and feast on their eyes, he would tie up the fathers so that they could watch as he ate the wives and children alive.
The years passed in a haze and whatever part of Belial was still human was buried under so many mounds of gore, that part of him would never see the sun again.
It was only a matter of time before Kim had him rounded up.
…and given the highest medal and honors the state could afford.
Services to HIS country.
Kim knew how to treat people like Belial well.
Where the squads and eyes had failed, Belial had succeeded. Though the brute didn’t know it, he had quashed many nascent rebellions.
Soon, Belial and Kim became fast friends. Soulmates.
Belial retired to a life of splendor, only called to duty when needed to punish student leaders and organized labor bosses.
In recent times though, Belial grew bored…and was more than happy when Kim invited him to watch some of the new ‘Fights’ he was holding in secret. Belial took part in these and became one of Kim’s champions.
Since he began fighting in the arena – he had not known defeat.
…and now my friends, we arrive in the present.
Here we see Belial, sitting comfortably on a huge king sized bed. The sheets are satin and beside him are two trays – one with grapes, the other with olives and cheeses. In front of him is a large silver dish containing the finest cuts of fish and some peking duck. Belial throws in the duck in one bite and swallows it down.
What a far cry from his time in the Hotel Broslin where his brother Dwayne would hit up the local McDonalds and bring back 20 or 30 of those small cheeseburgers they made. The 99 Cent gut grenades.
How he missed those days sometimes. He and Dwayne on the hunt – punishing those veterinarians –VETERINARIANS!!! – who separated them. His father was such a despicable human being, he couldn’t even have him mutilated by an MD. He was just an animal and the right people were brought in that dealt with Animals.
“STOP!...Your hurting me!”, one of the two ladies sharing the bed with Belial cries out suddenly. It seemed in his reminiscence, Belial had squeezed the breast in his hand a little too hard.
He turns to the woman, his eyes glowing red for just a second and grunts. She nods and goes under the covers to do as he asked.
A knock at the door.
Belial grunts again and three people walk in. His official interpreter, a man in a suit and a stoic looking soldier from Kim’s guard.
“Mr. Clawman”, the man in the suit begins, “Kim has scheduled you for a match this weekend. He has something very special planned! A tournament! Some of the best fighters in the world will be there! Professionals from Ultimate Online Wrestling! A very prestigious wrestling federation! Kim is a huge fan! Their finest warriors – of their own free will – have agreed to participate! It’s called Bloodsport!”
Belial grunts.
The interpreter looks at the man in the suits and responds, “It’s called Death Sport and yes, he has already heard of it. Mr. Clawman is very happy to be invited to participate. He would like to know if Brother Abishag will be there?”
The man in the suit looks at Belial – whose seems to almost be smiling now – and something was going on under those covers….
Belial grunts again and the interpreter says, “Mr. Clawman would appreciate if you pay no mind to the ministrations of the lady under the covers. He says you may continue with the business at hand.…”
Before the Man in the suit can begin to speak, Belial makes a loud noise…and then breathes out loudly. He reaches under the blanket and pitches the lady there onto the floor.
He grunts again.
The interpreter looks at the woman and says, “Bitches, get out…”
One of the ladies takes offense and looks at Belial.
“Bitches? You freak!”
Without warning he leaps up onto her face and rips out her tongue. He leaves her to bleed out on the floor. The other lady runs out of the room screaming.
“Uh…so….yes, Brother Abishag will be there”, The man in the suit says.
Belial clenches his fist and grunts.
“And what about Vastrix the Cyborg Warrior?” The interpreter asks the man in the suit.
“Yes, he will be there too. And Kronin…and Brother Buzi and Takuma Sato and Walter Reagan and…”
Belial is visibly pleased. This would indeed be a test of his skills….
“And also some of Kim’s other in house warriors.”
Belial’s smile drops.
THE OTHERS.
This was going to be tough. Kim had some particularly brutal in house warriors other than himself.
This was going to be a challenge for sure.
The blood was going to run in rivers.
He was getting excited and demanded the woman who ran from the room be returned to take the edge off. He couldn’t be distracted by lust – which always seemed to come hand in hand with the thought of murder. He needed to be calm so that when the time came, he would strike.
The man in the suit spoke. “Your first match will be against Vastrix. In a hangman match.”
Belial began to laugh. A hangman match. How fitting. Since he didn’t have a neck, what were they going to hand him by? His dinger?
Poor poor Vastrix.
The man was doomed.
|
|
|
Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 16:57:58 GMT -5
Written by Dr. Summeroff
The Long Night of Brother Buzi
The memories returned this night – unwelcome guests banging on the door, demanding to be let inside so they could share their frosty gifts with those inside.
Buzi had asked the blob to open that door and so he now paid the price for his curiosity. Some doors are best left closed, no matter how hard the banging and the knocking.
The images played out over his mind now…
What a mess things have become. The godless and the lawless all risen up, showing their true colors – they burn cars, they burn homes, they burn the banks and the bankers in the banks, they {No Means No}, they steal...some even kill. Even those sworn to protect... Outside the compound, the police and the army have been unable to properly control the Rebels of Society Protestors that put the compound under siege. The place itself is in a state of heavy damage, its walls smashed and burning, acolytes running in all directions trying to repel the protestors. What started as a mere demonstration against the brotherhood’s oppulance turned into a massacre when the police and the local guards couldn’t keep their weapons in their holsters. As the first of the protestors were shot, it galvanized the mob.
Buzi closed his eyes and opened them again to shut out what the blob had shown him. He turned to the cell he was in.
Abishag and Abaddon were fast asleep on the filthy cots in the cell they were being held in here in the Democratic Republic of North Korea.
Brother Buzi though stood alone, unable to sleep. He stood at the bars at the front of the cell and listened as the others in captivity here snored, rolled over and farted their way into REM sleep.
One rattler had more amplitude than what could be expected from a sleeping man’s fart.
That had to be Sato…word was he was fed North Korean Taco’s today. The North’s interpretation of this Mexican dish didn’t sound like it went so well.
How did he get here?
That was the big question…his life to now leading to this?
The Blob didn’t burden his children with more than they could bear…that’s what they said anyway.
Still it wasn’t fair.
Buzi frowned in the darkness.
Was he not retired? Had he not done his duty? Was he not a champion and did he not bring Glory to the Blob as he destroyed all who stood in his way in the Kapow Wrestling Federation?
He did his service and retired as his body grew older and began to betray him.
…and here he was, forced back into Combat….
He was not long Abishag. He hadn’t been engaged in the rigors of training. Over the last few years, his conditioning had worsened. His body had grown softer…his limps less flexible, his eyesight not as sharp as it once was, the force of his blows lessened.
Earlier today, Abishag had asked him if he thought he could take his opponent in DeathSport – Kronin.
He answered in the affirmative but he wasn’t so sure.
Kronin was still in the game…and even though he wasn’t at his peak as he had been a few years ago, he still put in a workmanlike effort each and every time he stepped in the ring. He had earned respect over his years as a man who would never be an easy out.
Buzi would need the blob now more than ever.
His strength.
His power.
His wisdom.
The wisdom is what he sought an hour ago and so he had taken out the last capsule he had smuggled here. He kept them in a small baggie under his balls – taped against them. Kim’s people hadn’t gone looking there. He removed the last one, brushed it off…frowned as he smelled the stale sweat from his underwear and sack coming from the capsule…
…and he swallowed it down none the less.
Abishag had seen a vision earlier of himself in another time and what happened if he should fall into the Boiling Pool in his own match…
What could Buzi expect to be shown?
It wasn’t long before he found out…
As was already said…
Some doors were meant to be left shut.
Unlike Abishag who had been strengthened by the nature of the vision he was shown…Buzi was shattered and destroyed by his.
He was now full of self-doubt and a sense of finality.
After all – in the other life where Abishag had been resurrected by the Blob – Buzi had also died not too long after.
…only he was left too grow cold in the grave. His wound was too grievous – the damage too much.
With the walls ready to crumble, Summeroff sent both Buzi and Abishag out to lead an acolyte charge... It ended...in disaster. Abishag kneels over his dying brother and tells him to save his energy. “JANUS!!!” Abishag hollers to the acolyte “Bring the medical Acolytes here right away!!! RIGHT AWAY!! We need to get Buzi inside!” Buzi coughs weakly, thick gobs of blood spray from his mouth. Abishag begins to panic. He can’t believe all this is happening. Only a couple weeks ago, he won the ECWC World Championship. In America, there is the NFL and then there is the ECWC Champion. There he was after the match on the jet back to the compound. He and Buzi had celebrated along with Summeroff. Abaddon, once again, was at odds with Summeroff. He had been cast out for bringing shame to the brothers by losing to an inferior opponent. Only when he righted this wrong would he be allowed back - so Summeroff had proclaimed. They could have used Abaddon tonight.
“Do you wish to see more…to see how it ends?” The Blob’s voice cooed, imploring Buzi to the affirmative. “Good….”
The images continued…
Abishag begins to accept the inevitable and it breaks a heart he wasn’t sure he even had anymore. The feeling hurts....it hurts and it brings back THAT scene again – the one where he lifts his head in a small home lost in the veils of time....and sees the boy with his neck broken and a bullet hole in his head. He sees his wife, dead...only after hours of {No Means No} and torture, things that Abishag was made to watch. He was Edwin Vasquez then. He knows that now. He also knows how he came to have that part of his life suppressed. He knows how he first got his revenge. He remembers it - parts of it anyway, with more of that old life merging with his current life everyday. ...and this scene here, watching as mighty Buzi was dying right in front of him...this brought even more of that back. It even brought some tears. Tears for his family, now long gone. Tears for the brother he gained in this new life – the brother now being taken from him. He speaks with Buzi in those last minutes, hears his brother's’ words as Buzi was the wisest of them and watches helplessly as the great man passes into the embrace of watery savior...
With that, the Blob showed him no more. He said no more. Buzi simply returned.
He was shown his own death through the eyes of Abishag…who in that other life had suffered a lot before becoming what he was.
In this life…how much of that was true? He’d need to ask him sometime if he lived past Death Sport. Who was Edwin Vasquez? Had those atrocities really happened to his wife and his children?
Buzi looked at the sleeping Abishag now.
The blob was opening all the books today it seemed.
To what purpose?
That was another life. For all of them.
What did that matter now?
But it did matter. Buzi could feel it. He felt in his bones he was not meant to be here…it was an awful feeling. He was shown his death. A death. Was he going to suffer a similar fate here? Would it be at the hands of Kronin of all people? Buzi envied Abaddon and Abishag. They could sleep.
There would be no such escape for Buzi tonight.
|
|
|
Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 16:59:10 GMT -5
Written by Valora
UOW North Korean Chronicles Chapter 1.3 Abbigail Dresden
Abbigail watched carefully as the North Korean woman and her guards finished up with Valora. The end coming as the guards dragged Valora out of the room, ensuring Abbigail got a look at the bloodied and beaten back of the Mexican-American fighter, her mentor. The door closed behind them and Kim Ji-Min sat down and smirked. “That shouldn’t scare you. What should scare you is that, cruel as I am, I am the only ally you have in this place.” Abbigail took a breath, mustered up her courage and spat on the polished boot of the North Korean. “Lady… if you’re a friend.. Then your country sucks even worse than I thought it did. Fuck you.”
Kim Ji-Min tilted her head to the side and paused for a moment before scoffing. “Pointless American Defiance. False Bravado to cover the fear that grips every nerve of your body. But you Americans are cowards. Always have been. You’re afraid of people who look different. People like your friend, Valora can tell you what that’s like. Black people can tell you the same or more, I suspect. You let Corporations and the rich, run your lives because you’re afraid to ask for more than the scraps they brush off their table. You go to war because you’re afraid of the boogeyman you government uses to scare you. My Emperor wants only one thing.. A united Korea. How is that any threat to the Great and Powwerful United States? Ohhh.. a United Korea might not need the United States. Those troops would have to leave and without that, the U.S. can not bully Japan and China and Asia might be able to determine it’s own destiny. Yes, you’re right we’re totally evil, aren’t we? Have you ever thought, Abbigail Dresden, that maybe you are the villain in this story? I doubt it.. After all, you Americans aren’t allowed to think anymore, are you?”
Abbigail narrowed her eyes. “Untie me, bitch and I’ll show you fear..” Kim smirked. “Threats. Violence. How typically American. If something challenges your narrow minded view of the world you must smash and destroy it.” Abbigail nods. “And Good guys torture?” Kim shrugs. “You Americans do. Would you prefer I give you truth serum? Deprive you of sleep? Waterboard you? Those are acceptable interrogation tactics, yes?”
Abbigail smirks. “Interrogation has a point. Is there something you’d like to know?” Kim leans back in her chair and nods. “There are some things I would like to know. Other things I need...confirmed. But first.. There is the issue that you have dirtied my boot. You will remedy that situation.” Abbigail nods. “Right… and if I tell you to take a long walk off a short pier?” Kim leans forward, saying nothing at first, leaning forward and looking over the girl in front of her. “Well then, I’d have to decide what would make a more effective lesson for you. Letting you spend some time with my friend, or showing you the truly wonderful advances Warhammer has made in the realm of prisoner control. That collar you’re wearing.. What would you say if I told you that all I have to do is push a button and you would gladly do anything, believe anything I told you? Or by pushing another button, I could make it impossible for you to move? Still another button and I can end your life. Yes.. perhaps a demonstration. Clean my boot now or I will demonstrate the control collar’s uses by having you march out for your match, kneel and declare yourself the Emperor’s loyal servant. I wonder what your friends would think of such a display?”
Abbigail nodded. “Bullshit. If you could do that, you wouldn’t be wasting time with torture.” Kim nods. “Perhaps.. Or perhaps it might be a case of not all minds can handle the strain. Let’s see if yours can.” She said before pressing the button. Abbigail felt her hands freed from their cuffs. A split second later, she felt spikes enter her neck from the collar and inject her with a collar. A split second later her mind literally burned as she felt the effects of the drug and she instinctively fought back. Kim watched as the girl grabbed her head, as if trying to stop her mind from being torn in two and for the briefest moment, she thought she saw Abbigail’s eyes glow. But whether that was further confirmation of her suspicions, or a reaction of the chemicals and collar was open for debate. Kim decided to proceed with her test and tapped her foot on the ground as she stood up. “Crawl over here and clean my boot.” Abbigail, still fighting the collar, did as she was told reaching out with her hand but Kim stopped her. “No.. it came from your mouth.. Put it back there.” Abbigail’s hand paused and she slowly, but surely bent forward and licked up her own spit from Kim’s boot, causing the North Korean woman to nod in satisfaction and end the collar’s control function. “That was enlightening. For both of us, I believe. Are you ready to cooperate willingly? Or do I need to give you further lessons?”
Abbigail thought for a moment. “For the record.. No, there’s a difference between us.. I don’t always think my country or government are the good guys.. And not thinking.. You’re the expert there… tell me something.. Have you ever had a thought of your own that wasn’t pre-approved by your Emperor? As for your question.. Define cooperate and I can give you an answer?”
Kim was tempted to give her another lesson but instead she sat down and nodded. “I had your blood tested. There are abnormalities in your blood that we’ve never seen before. At first I thought you were some type of new super soldier project but you lack military training and discipline. What are you? What is different about you?”
Abbigail smirks and shakes her head. “Sorry, even if I wanted to, I have rules.. I’m not allowed to say anything about what I may or may not be. Maybe I’m a mutant.. Maybe your lab botched the result. Could be anything really. Maybe you’re just paranoid.” Kim Ji-Min smirked and held up her controller. “Shall I force you to tell me?” Abbigail sighs and looks at her. “You can try but it won’t end well for you.. Even if you succeed.. Look.. you’re military right? You understand rules and such?” Kim considered this for a moment. This was dangerous, she was risking giving up some of her control that was vital for her success.. Yet in doing so, she might get more cooperation in the future. “Confirm then. I have intel reports that you and your cohorts were sent here by the American President to assassinate our Emperor as a prelude to invasion. Is this true?” Abbigail shrugs. “Well if that was the plan no one told me. Might have been those orders were given while I was in jail on bullshit charges.”
Kim Ji-Min studied the woman before her intently, looking for any sign of deception and leaned back in her seat as she considered this. She had studied the girl both as this conversation went on and while Valora was in here as well. She also knew Americans had no honor.. Appeal to their greed and willingness to do anything to survive to get them to do what you wanted. And Abbigail had made what she wanted plain as day. Kim made her move. “I see.. And does your partner know you are in love with her?” Abbigail gave exactly the type of reaction Kim Ji-Min was looking for. The question shook and surprised the young woman in front of Kim Ji-Min. She then immediately defended her position. “I respect her. I’m grateful that she’s decided to take me under her wing and help mentor me. Our relationship simple and professional. We are professional fighters and we are friends. I think we’re both happy. Why don’t you just cut the crap and tell me what you want?”
Kim Ji-Min was surprised, but showed no sign of it as she studied her prey. The woman had recovered quickly and was going on the attack Kim would let her believe she had the advantage for the moment but would continue to set the trap and wait to spring it on her. “Well for right now, the Emperor wants a show. I’m quite sure the Emperor would enjoy watching you dismantle your opponent.” Abbigail rolled her eyes. “Well he should prepare for disappointment. Last time I fought Gabrielle, it didn’t work so well for me.” Kim nodded. “Your life wasn’t on the line. Now it is… because believe me when I say if the Emperor is not entertained by your fight, one or both of you will die. I would suggest you use that as motivation and fight for your life. You do want to keep living, yes?” Abbigail smirked. “I’ve been thrown in jail because the fascist dictator of my country doesn’t like me. Now I’ve been sent here so your dictator can indulge in some sick Roman Gladiator fetish? I think Gabrielle is going to be more accommodating than me. Not knocking what she does for a living but her range of fetishes is likely to be bigger than mine.” Kim responds by pushing a button on the controller, sending pain firing through the nerves of Abbigail as she nods. “Do not insult the Emperor again.” Kim leans forward. “We will continue our talks later… but for now, think about what you have seen. I could, with the push of a button, have you walk out there, kneel down and pledge your allegiance to the Emperor and declare your intention to defect to our country. By the same token, a push of a button could get you what you want. Or, think about this.. You want Gabrielle Montgomery dead.” Abbigail rolls her eyes. “I don’t want anyone dead.”
Kim leans forward and pushes a button. A TV screen replays Gabrielle beating Abbigail. Abbigail narrows her eyes as she watches and Kim nods. “Valora must have been so disappointed.. You, training under her to be a warrior,.. Defeated by some common whore… you know the type of person Valora is. How many losses before she begins to see you as a liability, not an asset? You need to win.. And here, in this tournament, winning means your opponent stops breathing.” Abbigail decided to switch tactics here a bit and nodded. “Say I play along, what do I get?” Kim raised an eyebrow and leaned forward. “What do you want?” Abbigail nods. “Well some time not being tortured might be nice.” Kim smirks. “You want the pain to stop, you must show me you can be useful. Right now, all the evidence says you can’t even beat a common whore. Prove me wrong and we’ll see about improving your treatment.” Abbigail frowned and nodded. “Fine. I’ll beat her.. But no promises on my killing her.”
|
|
|
Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 17:00:27 GMT -5
Written by MoonChild
Walter Reagan: Death Sport Saga Ch.1
Walter stood pressed up against the cell door of his North Korean holding cell banging on it like a mad man possessed by a demon. His unrelenting stubbornness not allowing him to sit down or take a break the entire time he had been held there. The Ultimate Wrestling announcing team of Scott Slade and Chris Rodgers were being held in a cell across from him and the in ring announcer Rich Relando was imprisoned in the cell next to theirs. It was clear all three announcers were tired of hearing Walter bang on his cell door and cursing at the North Koreans guards. Suddenly Chris Rodgers snapped and began screaming at Walter unrelentingly.
Rodgers: GOD DAMMIT WALTER! Nothing you scream at these guards is going to get them to release us! You’re just wasting you fucking energy and giving us all fucking migraines! It’s honestly a fucking miracle that you passed your military mental aptitude test! You’re giving them what they want! Just sit there and shut up and wait for President McStrump to deal with these terrorists!
Walter: What did you say to me old man?
Rodgers: I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP WALTER!
Walter: I’ll remember that you old bastard, when I single handedly get us out of here! I’ll be sure to you leave your ass behind!
The Desert Storm Veteran spit toward Rodgers and Slades cell before launching into a full dress down of the old Vietnam War Veteran. It was clear that whatever mutual respect the two men had for one another before their trip to North Korea had withered while they were in captivity.
Walter: Silent generation my ass! You fucking timeworn old men just don’t when shut your mouths and see yourselves out into the sun set! You had your time and you lost your chance at Glory in that damn jungle! IT’S BECAUSE OF YOU THAT OUR COUNTRY IS FALLING APART AND IN A DECLINE! OUR NATION HAD NEVER KNOWN A MILITARY LOSS TILL YOU BOY’S WENT TO VIETNAM AND FOUGHT LIKE A BUNCH BITCHES IN SKIRTS!
Rodgers: EXECUSE ME! If we had the technology you little boy’s had in Desert Storm we would have wiped the floor with the Viet Kong! You whiney ass baby boomers are all the same! Always looking to blame someone else or some other generation! Unlike you, my generation knew how to keep their mouths shut and stay focused on our careers! While you were growing out your hair long and smoking Maryjane, we were out there trying making something of our selves at that age! We knew how to get in line and work for the benefit our country. All you boomer’s know how to do it is rob our nation’s wealth and line your own damn pockets! That’s what’s ruining our country and that’s your generation’s legacy!
Walter: That’s it old man! I’m going to kill you when I get out of this cell! You hear me! Your time is up!
Rodgers: Bring it you fat bastard! You think I’m scared of you? You lost to that Mexican lesbian last week! I may be old, but I can still kick shit of any man who can beat a woman in a fair fight!
Walter’s face turned a new shade of red as his brain processed the embarrassing insult tossed at him by Chris Rodgers. Scott and Rich looked on silently as the two war veterans went at it back and forth tossing crude offences at one another.
Walter: YOU’RE DEAD OLD MAN! DEAD! YOU HEAR ME!
Rodgers: I’m so scared! You should be ashamed of yourself Walter! You’re disgrace to the uniform, a disgrace to Mr. Mudcock, and to your friends. You tried to get poor Ronald a job with Ultimate Wrestling and the best you could do was getting a job unclogging toilets! The man is a damn Purple Heart recipient!
Walter: I did my best! That was Mr. Mudcock’s decision!
Rodgers: Always blaming others! Grow up Walter! You’re fucking over sixty years old! Why don’t get your head out of your ass and get focused on this tournament! If you want to get out of here alive that is! There is no guarantee that Mr. McStrump and Mr. Mudcock will be able to deal with the Emperor. I’ve heard he’s even more unreasonable than you!
Suddenly Kim Ji-Min and a large group of Korean prison guards come storming into their holding area carrying high tech War Hammer industry designed electrical police batons. The stern and beautiful Kim Ji-Min has very unhappy look on her face as she begins barking orders and pointing at both Chris Rodgers and Walter Reagan. The guards waste no time unlocking the cells and begin beating on the chained up individuals who had been arguing. Scott Slade and Rich Relando watch in horror as the batons send severe shockwaves coursing through their bodies forcing them to collapse to the concrete floor. The two men begin to convulse and as repetitive strikes from the guards find their marks. After the beating has stopped both Rodgers and Reagan lay on the floor breathing heavily. Kim Ji-Min takes this moment to speak down to her prisoners.
Kim Ji-Min: I have heard enough of your barbaric uproar’s! If you continue to yell at my guards or at one another you will receive far worse punishment than what you’ve just experienced now!
Walter: EAT MY ASS YOU DAMN DIRTY GOOK CUNT!
Walter spit on Kim Ji-Min somehow managing to hit her in the face all the way from the floor while lying on his back. The racial slur seemed to anger even the guards as they raised their high-tech night sticks up high into the air ready to deliver another severe beating to the American. Kim Ji-Min shouted in Korean for them to stop and then she slowly walked over to where Walter was lying on the ground. With a sadistic smile she lifted her right foot and planted her black leather military boot on his groin and began applying pressure to his testacies and penis. Walter tried to play the tough guy at first resisting the urge to scream out loud.
Kim Ji-Min: Apparently Mister Reagan you do not value your wellbeing. I hope you enjoy urinating through a catheter for the rest of your short life!
Suddenly the guards rush in and pin Walter to the ground making sure he can’t squirm his way out of his precarious situation. With no remorse Kim Ji-Min pressed her entire weight onto Walter’s privates. At this point Walter could no longer hold it in and he began screaming uncontrollably.
Walter: MY BALLS! MY FUCKING BALLS! YOU BITCH! YOU AHHHHHHHH FUUUHHAHACKKK!
Kim Ji-Min: Come now Mr. Reagan! We all know Ms. Salinas took those from you last week! I’m just finishing the job she wasn’t woman enough to complete!
Walter: AHHHHH! FAAAAAHHHHCCCCUUUUCCKKKK!!!! STOP! STOP! FUCKING STOP IT!
Kim Ji-Min: I will stop when I am damn good and ready to stop! Do you hear me you fat American pig!
Walter screaming became higher pitched the longer the torture went on. Kim Ji-Min did not relent until she was confident that Walter’s testacies has been fully crushed. As she finally took her foot off of Walters groin she gave him one last kick between the legs. She then whistled loudly and her troops exited the cell. Walter rolled around on the ground crying with literal tears in his eyes. As the cell door closed behind Kim Ji-Min he began to vomit uncontrollably.
Kim Ji-Min: I look forward to seeing your Death at the hands of Valora tomorrow Mr. Walter. Enjoy your last miserable hours on this earth. I will have the one of the guards bring you a catheter later so you can relieve yourself…
*Kim Ji-Min walked away from the cells and headed toward the exit with her guards. Slade tended to Chris Rodgers who had still not fully recovered from his beating. Rich Relando attempted to console Walter from across the hallway.
Rich Relando: Hang in there Walter. I’m sure President McStrump will find a way to get us out of here before tomorrow. Just stay strong buddy!*
Walter laid on the floor a beaten man holding his groin and whimpering in pain. Kim Ji-Min had broken what small piece of manhood he had left. He knew if they weren’t rescued by early tomorrow morning that he would be walking into certain demise facing Valora Salinas in fight to the death. His injury would take weeks to heal, and he only had one night to recover. Perhaps God was finally punishing him for all the mistakes he had made in life. Perhaps this was a fitting end for Walter Reagan.
The End.
|
|
|
Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 17:01:14 GMT -5
Written by MoonChild
The Strings of Fate and Fortune: The Takuma Sato Story: Chapter 10
Kim Ji-Min sat in her office staring at a black and white security monitor focused on the prison cell holding Takuma Sato. She seemed frustrated and at the same impressed with Sato who had not moved a muscle since being placed in lockup. From the moment the cell door was closed, Takuma had sat down in the middle of the floor, taken a meditation pose, and had literally not moved an inch, not even to use the toilet. They had attempted tempting the marital artist with food and water, but he did not even acknowledge the guards existence. Kim Ji-Min wondered if this Japanese American had put himself into a deep meditated trance to block out the reality of his situation. She knew she would have to pay him a visit soon and break his meditative state. Kim Ji-Min would not allow this American warrior monk like individual to cheat her of desires or the Emperor's wish.
Kim Ji-Min leaned back in her chair almost admiring Sato’s discipline and inner strength. Inside the prison cell however a great deal more was taking place, something that Kim Ji-Min’s eyes couldn’t perceive. Sato had finally reached the level of meditation required for his consciousness to leave his physical body. A bright glowing yellow aura only visible to the trained eye and the naturally gifted swept around him separating his soul from his flesh. Soon Sato’s astral form was unbound from the prison and within seconds he was on the streets of Pyongyang. As his spirit form walked the streets of the North Korean capital he was appalled to see the true state of the nation. This was what tourists and foreign reporters were forbidden from witnessing.
Sato became an eyewitness to children of all ages digging through trash on the streets sides for something to eat, skeletal thin dead bodies of all ages scattered about the city, deceased from malnutrition and disease. The sight was disgusting and his aura changed from a bright yellow to a dark red as he grew furious from the horrors all around him. However his anger would know new bounds as he began to see the elite class of North Koreans walk pass these tragedies unblinking without even a second glance.
At one moment Sato witnessed a woman dressed in a beautiful high end customary wedding dress stepping over a dead child and into a Mercedes E Class before driving away. It was clear to him now while most in this God forsaken country starved, those close to Emperor were allotted special privileges and luxuries that most could not even fathom. The more Sato learned the more disgusted he grew. Stores full goods not for sale, only there for appearance for foreign media. Grocery stores full of food with astronomical prices that only the small privileged class of population could afford and an Emperor who gorged his fat disgusting body while the majority of his people starved on streets with no shelter or medical treatment. Suddenly Sato’s astral form was ripped from Emperors dining hall and back into his body on the floor of his prison cell. Kim Ji-Min stood above him holding her right fist. It was clear from the pain in Sato’s right jaw that she had entered his prison cell while he was in deep meditation and clobbered him with a right hook which snapped him out of his intense state of mind.
Kim Ji-Min: You are not like the others are you Mr. Sato? Someone has passed down to you the ancient ways. Things only taught by Grand Masters in our part of the world. It will be honor to kill you in the final of the Emperor's great tournament.
Sato rolled up onto his back and looked into Kim cold and calculating eyes. She had long beautiful black hair like his mother and her attitude was all business. His jaw ached from the punch she'd dealt him and his mind was still recovering from the out of body experience.
Sato: The final? A bit confident are we not?
Kim Ji-Min: I have trained all my life for a moment like this where I could make my Emperor proud. I refuse to rest until I hold the Death Sport title.
Sato: Why not unchain me and we can find out which of us is the better fighter right now?
Kim Ji-Min: Tisk…tisk Mr. Sato. Do you take me for a fool?
Sato: I’d be a fool not to try.
Kim Ji-Min nodded before having a seat on Sato’s dirty prison bed. She crossed her short but thin muscular legs and then took off her military hat and placed it on the bed next to her. She then pulled her hair out of her pony tail and left it to fall onto her shoulders. She then slowly unbuttoned the top two buttons on her military top as if trying to seduce Takuma.
Kim Ji-Min: You know the Emperor and his nephew think very highly of you. This is very uncommon especially considering that you were raised by American pigs and come from inferior Japanese decent.
Sato managed to get back to his feet even with his wrists and ankles chained in iron cuffs. His lip was starting to swell from the punch he had taken from Kim Ji-Min. It was clear to Takuma that Ji-Min was attempting some sort new strategy to get inside his head. He had heard the screams and cries from his fellow cell mates and the Ultimate Wrestling prisoners nearest to him. She’d watched him torture Vendredi till he passed out just for the fun of it. He knew this was not a woman to be trifled with if he wanted to escape unscathed for his first fight in the morning.
Sato: I’ll take that as a compliment then… I guess. Are you aware of what takes place on the streets of your country? The people starving while certain portion of the population lives like Kings and Queens?
Kim Ji-Min was put off by the unexpected question, whatever she had planned for Sato had now been placed on the back burner. The young woman squinted her eyes and leaned forward in a frustrated manner.
Kim Ji-Min: Our people starve because your country and it damn sanctions! Your leaders cause the death and disease in our streets.
Sato: The sanctions were put in place due to decisions my by your Emperor and his father before him. If he’s willing to make those decisions he should willing to spread what little you all have equally. From what I’ve seen it would seem the elite in your country horde most of the wealth and goods you have and let the rest of your people starve.
Kim Ji-Min stood up and backhanded Sato across the face for his insolence and tone. It was clear that Takuma had touched a nerve and Kim Ji-Min did not like it one bit. She began to button her uniform back up while talking down to Sato like she had to the others earlier in the week.
Kim Ji-Min: The Emperor has wished that I’d mate with you in order to bring a new golden warrior into the world that would fight for his cause. However I refuse to have sexual relation with a man who clearly has the I.Q. of a wild dog. It is clear you have little understanding of our great Republics troubles or our society.
Sato: Excuse me, what? I’m sorry, but I’m taken.
Kim Ji-Min: Yes, I read your file. Bedding with a common street whore you rescued in that disgusting city called Las Vegas. You’re probably riddled with STD’s and other ailments. I do not desire to go against the Emperor’s wishes but it is clear he has misjudged you.
Sato: My girlfriend may have been a “common whore” but she has a hundred times the empathy you or any of your elite class have! It’s as if everyone here is on the spectrum and lacks any emotions what so ever!
Kim Ji-Min back handed Sato again this time knocking him back onto the floor. She placed her long black hair back into a pony tail and then put her military cap back on her head. She then walked out of Takuma’s cell clearly frustrated with how the interaction between them had gone. As the cell door closed shut behind her she spoke a few last words to the martial artist.
Kim Ji-Min: I hope to see you in the finals Sato-san. It will still be a great victory for me to defeat a fighter of your caliber. You will be fighting your comrade Dwight Couch in the first round. I will be watching closely.
Kim Ji-Min walked away from the cell as Sato managed to get off the floor one more time. As he sat back against his dirty cell wall he smiled a bit. His encounter Kim Ji-Min had far more unusual than he could have ever imagined. However compared to the rest of this roster mates he hand been left practically unscathed. Perhaps the Emperor had orders that he not be harmed significantly before the Death Sport tournament. At this point it no longer really mattered, it was clear to him that they would not be rescued any time soon. He had to focus on the mission at hand and stay alive in the tournament. Takuma liked Dwight. He never wanted to have to fight anyone to the death. However if their mission was to be a success he would have to do what needed to be done. Millions of lives were hanging in the balance.
Sato: Sometimes to save the many you have to sacrifice the few…
To be continued.
|
|
|
Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 17:02:03 GMT -5
Written by Kronin
UOW North Korean Chronicles: Kronin Chapter 1:
Kronin sat across from the North Korean officer questioning him with the same calm, stoic expression on his face as if he were facing any of a myriad of social interactions he dealt with on a daily basis. Silence reigned as the interrogator awaited an answer to his stated question. Kronin let the silence hang in the air for a bit longer, timing his responses to make it clear his captors would get answers on his time. Ensuring he maintained control of the situation. “Name, Kronin Reinhardt. Rank: Captain. Branch: German Army. My Serial Number is 21-479-001. Date of Birth is 21/9/1980” Kronin ended his response there and the interrogator sighed. “You been saying that since I ask you.” Kronin simply nodded. “Something is obviously getting lost in translation. I’ve given you information I am required to give. You should go make sure that information is reported back to my country.” The man leaned forward. “I want you to answer my question!” Kronin smirked ever so slightly. This man was obviously an amatuer. Kronin repeated the name, rank, serial number routine and the man lost his temper and responded by striking Kronin with the back of his fist. Kronin took the blow without flinching and without changing the stoic expression on his face.
Before things could progress much further, the door opened and a young to middle-aged woman walked in. Kronin noted the reactions of the guards and the other interrogator to her arrival and quickly deduced she was in charge here. She spoke a few words in Korean and the interrogator bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him, leading Kronin to assume she had dismissed him for some reason. Likely his abject failure to do his job. Kronin greeted the woman, aiming to throw her off her game. He bowed his head a bit in a gesture of respect and looked at her. “Greetings. You’ll have to forgive me for not rising or shaking your hand.. But it seems your subordinate didn’t want me moving from this chair.”
The woman nodded. “I did not wish you moving from that chair. I must say Captain, you don’t seem as agitated or bothered by the accomodations.” Kronin nods. “What can I say? I can adapt.” Kronin said as the woman paced back and forth, considering her next move. He then added in. “You know, in most civilized countries, it’s customary for even enemies to introduce themselves.” The woman stopped and looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve already introduced yourself, multiple times. You will learn who I am when I decide to tell you and not before. The information you gave.. I find it curious that you would choose to give that information and nothing else.” Kronin shrugs. “It’s the information I am required by the Geneva Conventions, NATO and International law to give.” The woman smirks. “Only current military are so required. Your responses indicate you are working on behalf of the German government, not merely some wrestling company, which makes me wonder what interest does Germany have in North Korea?” Kronin shrugs. “None. Well, none outside of doing what we can to ensure that World War 3 doesn’t start because of a childish insult to a thin skinned dictator who can’t handle criticism.” The woman narrowed her eyes. “You insult our Emperor?” Kronin shrugged. “Well no, I insulted a thin skinned dictator who can’t handle criticism. If that’s what you believe your Emperor is, than I would humbly suggest that you insulted your Emperor. Not me. I did not mention anyone by name or national affiliation. Due to the parties involved in the Korean War, 4 major players are vital to maintain peace and stability. North Korea, South Korea, The United States and China. That is 4 people, by my count to which my comment may have referred.” The woman rolled her eyes. “You would not insult the Americans, or the South Korean puppets the Americans use.” Kronin shrugs. “Right, because it isn’t as if the American president has not set out to insult my country and leader every chance he gets or anything. My job started long before it was announced that we would be coming here so doesn’t it seem more logical that you aren’t my assignment?”
The woman thought about this for a few seconds and nodded slowly. “Then what is your assignment?” Kronin shrugs. “Classified. That’s what my assignment is. You’ve given me no reason to help you, so I’m going to tell you to contact my government, inform them of my capture and see if you can get them to authorize me to share my assignment with you. I doubt they will, but you’re certainly welcome to try. Now, if you’re willing to introduce yourself and if you’re someone with the authority to make decisions, we might be able to get something done.” The woman nodded. “You are not in control here. Evidently the fact that I can move freely while you are restrained to a chair has not made that obvious to you. I do have the authority to make decisions. You will find out more when I decide and not before.”
Kronin was silent for a few moments, enjoying the chess match he found himself in with this woman and plotting his next move. “Alright, then consider this.. You have an idea for this grand spectacle. This brutal bloodsport meant to entertain your Emperor. Problem is you executed the executive in charge of this venture. The man who was going to ensure that we got paid for performing. I’m going to assume all of us are prisoners and most of us are in various stages of torture.” The woman nods. “Your point?” Kronin shrugs once more and leans back in the chair as much as he can. “There is an actual threat to your country and leader here. I’m sure to prepare for your interrogations, you watched film of our events?” The woman nodded and Kronin continued. “Then you know who I’m talking about. That cult of Blob crap.. These people are extremists. Terrorists using religious dogma to control their adherents. You don’t want these guys winning and you definitely don’t want them anywhere close to your leader.”
The woman nodded and took a seat in front of Kronin on one of the nicer chairs reserved for the interrogators. “Which is why I will ensure they don’t get there. For instance, you will be fighting one of them. If you’re still alive afterwards, then we can see how else you might be useful.” Kronin frowned. This one was definitely much more skilled than his previous interrogator. A worthy opponent. Yet Kronin’s face never lost the stoic, confident look of a man who was always in control. “I see. Mind narrowing it down a bit?” The woman nodded once, curtly. “I do.. But I will tell you. His name is Buzi I believe. You will fight him in an electrified steel cage.” With that, she stood, and left the room, leaving Kronin alone with his thoughts.
Buzi. Kronin was familiar with the man. Like most of Summerof’s fighters, the man was well trained. Formidable. He had been called champion in more than one federation. Kronin also believed he had retired, much like Kronin had planned to. It would make for an interesting match up, Kronin supposed as he considered the match up. On one hand, Kronin would like to assume he had the edge in conditioning. His time off had been shorter, also, due to his military training, Kronin continued a regime intended to keep him in excellent physical condition. Buzi, on the other hand, had left wrestling. Combined with the general lack of knowledge about exactly what went on in the compound of the Blob’s Cult, it was really anyone’s guess as to what type of physical condition Buzi would be in. An electrified cage was useful, it meant Kronin might just be able to gain a win without having to kill his opponent. While he definitely considered the cult of blob to be enemies, he did not yet see the need for deadly force. It was also becoming increasingly likely that he and his fellow wrestlers could not count on being allowed to do any kind of training or match prep. He had had a chance to speak briefly with his fellow prisoners and from what he could determine, it seemed the first round of matches was going to be dominated by UOW vs. UOW matches. Not surprising, it was just another way to ensure the home team had every advantage that could be given to them. First things first, Kronin had to find a way past Buzi. Even if the fighters refused to kill the loser, Kronin was sure the North Koreans would be highly unlikely to spare fighters eliminated from the tournament.
That meant Kronin needed to win this match and his record in must-win circumstances was enough to give him confidence.
|
|