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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 17:11:31 GMT -5
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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 17:12:11 GMT -5
Written by Valora
UOW Deathsport rd 2 Part 1: Valora's 'Choice'
Valora sat in her new cell with Kronin and Abbigail as her cell mates. Valora was muttering curses in Spanish under her breath as she did her best to treat the burns on her head where some of her hair had been burned away. On the bright side, Abbigail had won and, once she adjusted to the actions she had taken mentally, she would be able to continue her development. The win meant Valora had guards who owed her a few things but that would come later.. Valora had another goal right now. Abbigail looked up and broke the awkward silence. “Not that I’m complaining but… why are they putting us together? Why are they feeding us what seems like maybe actual food and not torturing us anymore.”
(To be Continued in Abbigail Dresden's portion) Valora smirked. “Because chica.. None of the Emperor’s precious champions lived through the first round. So he needs new ones. Kronin is German and North Korea is desperate to be recognized by other countries, especially Europe as any agreements there weaken the U.S. led sanctions on North Korea. Warhammer won’t want them expanding of course.. A isolated, desperate North Korea is one more amenable to their interests. So they’re going to try and recruit us.”
Abbigail blinked in confusion and blew some hair out of her face. “But you and I are Americans.. Who they hate.” Valora’s smirk grew a bit as she nodded. “I’m also a Mexican citizen and the fascists in the U.S. have declared war on me. The Korean puta also knew I was an assassin and merc. Which means it’s safe to assume her superiors know. They’re going to try and buy my services.. They’ll use you as an added bonus.. I play along, fight for North Korea and they let you join and I imagine they’ll add in some sort of help to help you survive the next round. As for you.. Well you’ve seen the movie ‘The Manchurian Candidate, right?” Abbigail shook her head and Valora sighed and looked at Kronin. “Kids..” Kronin, despite his best efforts, laughed a bit and shook his head glancing at Abbigail. “There was a time in American history when their idea of tension and drama in movies was imagining nightmare scenarios.. The Manchurian Candidate was one of a series of those kind of movies.. Imagining a politician brainwashed by North Korea who either becomes a Senator or President.. Been awhile since I’ve seen the movie.” Valora nodded and continued from Kronin. “They hate America, yes.. But they’d love to convince an American to work for them.. Gives their propaganda operations a big win.”
Abbigail just stared at her mentor for a long second, trying to piece together how Valora could possibly know all that. As if reading her mind, Valora laughed a bit and smirked. “This ain’t my first rodeo, chica. I’m really good at what I do. I’ve had more than a few offers in my life.” Abbigail nods. “How do you.. Deal with it? Every time I close my eyes.. I see her… “ Valora glances at Kronin. “Ask him chica.. His way of dealing with it might be better suited to you than mine is…” It was obviously not the response Valora’s protege had hoped for as she rolled her eyes and tried another subject. “You said you bet on my fight… whatcha bet?” Valora sighed. “If you won, I get some decent alcohol and a few other chemicals. If Gabrielle won… well I’d owe him some sexual favors.. So I will say again I am fuckin’ ecstatic you won, chica..” Abbigail scoffed. “Alcohol?! You wanna get drunk now?!” She said, her anger rising. Valora said nothing but held out her hand.. Which was visibly trembling and shaking. “I am a functioning alcoholic, chica.. But make no mistake.. A functioning alcoholic is still an alcoholic. I don’t want alcohol. I need it. If I don’t get some soon, my body will continue to suffer through withdrawal and I will likely die in one of my fights.” Valora points to her burned and scarred scalp. “How the fuck do you think this shit happened? I was tortured and going through withdrawal.. I wasn’t 100% to begin with. I prefer to get out of here.”
Kronin chimed in here. “Valora. Can you make use of your reputation to get an audience with the Emperor? He is quite the party person and ladies man.” Valora narrowed her eyes. “Well.. I suppose I should be glad you want me to whore myself out and not Abbigail.” Kronin rolls his eyes. “She doesn’t have your skillset or experience. I am asking for a reason.” Valora nods. “Yeah.. I could get in the same room with him.. If I put my mind to it.. But why? You actually wanna kill the asshat? I don’t know why the fuck we should help McStrump out.. Shit I’m tempted to go on TV here for the North Koreans and tell them exactly what the U.S. did by sending us here.”
Kronin smirked. “Yes, because you are a completely credible source with no reason to lie or invent something who couldn’t possibly be discredited by the U.S. intelligence community, law enforcement and international law enforcement agencies and intelligence outfits, right? The math here is really simple. The North Koreans have been humiliated.. Not a single champion of theirs survived round 1. I think your read is correct. They are going to try and recruit at least you, if not all three of us. I don’t want to help McStrump out anymore than you do, but to mount any type of escape is going to require a distraction. Can you think of a better distraction than killing the Emperor?”
Before Valora could answer the door to their cell opened and two soldiers wearing Warhammer uniforms came in, with an officer standing behind them. The officer pointed at Valora. “Her. We’re here to collect her. Mr. Anderson wants to speak with her and was given permission by your government to do so.. Her and her companions will remain unharmed.” One of the North Korean guards escorting them narrowed his eyes and without missing a beat, the Warhammer soldiers put their hands on their guns. The officer smirked. “My men are better trained than yours, I promise you.” The North Koreans backed down and the three Warhammer agents walked up, the officer about to speak when Valora stood up and punched the officer in the throat. “Tell Anderson to go fuck himself.. And tell him that if he ever puts himself in the same room with me I will end his life.” One of the soldiers grabbed his gun, drew it and pointed it at Abbigail. The officer coughed and shook his head. “Mr. Anderson said you’d say that.. He also said if you were sure about that, we kill your friend there… Mr. Anderson has noted your weakness.” Valora nods. “And if you kill her, what stops me from killing the three of you?” The officer smirked. “The warhammer programming still buried in your mind..”
Valora frowned and swore in Spanish under her breath and sighed. “Fine.. but I won’t promise that I won’t kill that crippled old fuck when I see him…” The Warhammer officer smirked and he and the soldiers escorted Valora from the cell, leading her to an well decorated office. As they knocked on the door and gained permission to enter, Valora searched the room. She noticed a desk. Allen Anderson sat at the desk. One bottle of bourbon on the desk.. The other bottle fine tequila. Valora’s eyes took in the entire office. It was well decorated. But there was nothing she could use as a weapon. Well.. maybe some options.. But they would require her to be very, very creative. Anderson smirked as he leaned back in the chair, looking at her. “I know you Valora. I knew the first thing you would do when you came here would be the first thing you do when you enter any room.. Look for a weapon. So I made sure you won’t find any.”
Valora smirked as she walked over to the desk and sat down. “Oh.. I don’t know. The bottles of alcohol are great weapons.. I found a few books that I wouldn’t mind beating you bloody with…”
Allen Anderson laughed, nodding in approval. “That’s why I like you. In your hands, anything is a weapon.” Valora smirked. “Nice to be appreciated.. What the fuck do you want?” Allen Anderson smirked and gestured to the bottle of tequila. “First.. To have a drink. I’m guessing by now the withdrawal is starting, yes? The nightmares… the shakes.. The pain.. We both know you need it.” Valora hesitated, but.. Unable to deny the truth of what he was saying, her hand quickly darted out, grabbed it and drank from the bottle, letting out a sigh as she set the empty bottle down, after draining it in one impressive long drink. Allen Anderson nodded. “Feel better?” Valora sighed. “Well that depends on how much that drink just cost me.” Allen Anderson smirked and took a few moments studying Valora. “You didn’t listen to my advice.. You and I used to share the same philosophy. Don’t get close to anyone. Don’t weaken yourself by attachment. Now you’ve.. What.. adopted the little bitch?”
Valora narrows her eyes. “Watch it, pendejo.. I will kill you.” Allen Anderson laughed. “That’s the second time today I’ve had someone threaten to kill me. I’ll tell you the same thing I told Mr. Vastrix.. I’m too old to give a shit about dying… ironically.. You were the reason I was threatened with death...you’re too attached to your protege.. I was accused of being too...soft on you.”
Valora scoffed. “Too soft.. You fucked with my mind. You tortured me.. And you were too soft? By what fuckin’ measure?!” Allen Anderson leaned forward looking her right in the eye. “By not killing you. You know a lot of our secrets and Warhammer doesn’t usually let their agents and assassins just walk out. I saved your life.. And my own by assuring Mr. Vastrix that you were reasonable and that you and I could come to an agreement.”
Valora leans forward as well, directly challenging Anderson by meeting his gaze. “In what fuckin’ world do you think I would ever willingly aid you or Warhammer?” Anderson laughed a bit. “Completely fearless.. I really respect that about you Valora.. But I think I have something you do fear… wrap your mind around this.. If you refuse my offer.. I’ll activate your conditioning.. I’d prefer not to.. Because it’s been so long since you’ve had your regular conditioning there might..unpleasant side effects. But if you piss me off, I will take that risk.. Activate your programming and I will tell you to kill your precious protege.. But not quickly.. Torture first.. Get creative.. I will push you to use every ounce of that wonderfully deviant and murderous mind you have to invent a personal level of hell for your protege… and just before she dies… I’ll bring you out of the brainwashed state to let you fully enjoy your work.. Now.. will you listen to my offer or are we going to do this the hard way?”
For one of the few times in her life, Valora’s eyes showed the fear as she contemplated that possibility and she clenched her fist. Before slamming it into the desk in frustration, causing the soldiers to point their guns at her. Allen Anderson calmly raised his hand. “No need for alarm Gentlemen.. Ms. Salinas has just realized that I win this round. She’s a competitive person and detests losing.. It’s why I love her so..” Valora sighed and waved her hand. “Fine.. tell me this fuckin’ deal…”
Allen Anderson nodded and poured himself some bourbon.. Taking his time as he savored his win. “You’ve seen the brackets.. Yes? You know who your protege is up against..” Valora nods. “Yes…” Anderson nods. “You know what he will do to her before he kills her, yes?” Valora nodded again. “Is there a fuckin’ point to this?!” Anderson nods. “I want you on the payroll again. The misfits you surround yourself with? Your team.. You and your team will get Warhammer funding, tech, support.. Whatever you need. This time.. I’ll even pay you.. Pay you what your skills and your abilities are actually worth. As an added bonus.. I and Warhammer will do what we can to give you and your protege an edge in their fights..”
Valora sat and thought for a moment. On one hand, she abhorred Warhammer. What they stood for.. What they had done to her in the past,.. On the other hand.. She was in a bad situation and saw a ticket for her and her allies to get out. Valora nodded as she thought about the offer and finally added in her part. “You have me here.. I can’t exactly say no.” Anderson laughed. “Well you could.. But I wouldn’t put any money on you living much longer..” Valora nodded. “Get me and the other wrestlers out of North Korea… and you have a deal.” Anderson frowned. “You’re asking a lot...especially since about half the roster is set to die in this show.” Valora nods. “The ones who live.” Anderson shakes his head. “No.”
Valora slams her fist on the desk. “God fuckin’ dammit! This isn’t a fuckin’ game you arrogant shit! These are fighters! Not soldiers! Not Assassins!” Anderson shrugged. “I didn’t send them here. Now.. maybe we can ensure they get rescued..” Valora finally sighed. “Fine.. but you will get me, Abbigail and Kronin out.” Anderson narrowed his eyes. “Kronin?! The German government can get their own agents out.” Valora nods. “So can you. And you will. What about Jeremiah?” Anderson smirked. “Well his father would prefer he be left for dead… fine.. Kronin can help provide security for Jeremiah Vastrix and we can sneak him out that way. Don’t push me any further Valora.. I’m already being very generous given the leverage I have on you at the moment.”
Valora sighs and nods. “Fine.. now what’s my first job?” Allen Anderson smirked. “Your match is a firing squad match… I’ve already ensured the soldiers will be Warhammer Soldiers.. First thing I need you to do is survive the match and kill that little Scottish runt O’Brien.. I wonder if Kronin will want your help after you kill his tag team partner, but we’ll see.. After you dispatch your opponent.. We can talk about the next steps.” Valora nods. “So I’m what.. Team North Korea, now?” Anderson shrugged. “Possibly. We have bigger plans than just North Korea. An opportunity has presented itself to us and we intend to take it.. And you.. You are going to be a key figure in helping us…”
Valora frowned as she thought about this information and Allen Anderson stood up and walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I watched you.. Watched you walk out there… play the heroine.. The freedom fighter.. But that isn’t you.. Valora.. Heroines don’t enjoy killing… they don’t derive sexual pleasure from torturing and murdering others.. You’re not happy because you continually deny who and what you are to pretend to be something you’re not. So.. my gift to you.. just … be honest with yourself.. The three men who brought you here today… all loyal to Jeremiah’s father. They’re waiting for the right time to kill us.. They also don’t believe me when I told them how dangerous you were.” He removed his hand from Valora’s shoulder and nodded. “Prove them wrong.”
Without missing a beat, Valora grabbed the empty tequila bottle and turned and threw it, aiming it in such a way that hit the officer in the head, bounced off, hit the first guard in the head, and shattered, glass flying into the faces of both men, distracting them. Valora charged the second guard sliding on her knees and shins as hit the man at the knee, striking the sciatic nerve, coming to her feet, and using the man as a human shield, grabbing a knife from the guard’s belt and Stabbing him in the small of the back, the mid back and slitting his throat, the blood from the man’s neck spraying into the face of the Officer. Valora shover the dying guard into the other two men and surged forward again. The officer died of a broken neck, Valora leapt into the air her feet landing on the wall as she ran along, jumped off and brought the first guard down with a flying head scissors takedown and quickly ended his life as well. Valora got up to her feet and heard the sound of Anderson clicking stop on a stopwatch and nodded. “Even less than 100% you’re still better than most of Warhammer’s assassins. This is what Michael doesn’t understand.. You have a natural gift for this..” Valora nods. “You just killed three of your bosses men.. Won’t you get in trouble?” Anderson laughed. “I didn’t kill anyone. you did. And yes, Michael will be displeased.. But he’ll also see my point that you’re worth the exceptional amount of trouble you cause.” Valora nods. “So how do you plan to help Abbigail?” Anderson shrugged. “She’s in a shark match.. It will be difficult, but not impossible to help her. You can start by giving her this..” Anderson said, producing a injector with a bluish green liquid in it. Anderson nodded. “It’s a new drug we’ve developed.. It’s like adrenaline but on steroids.. It pushes speed, strength, endurance to peak human levels.. It might not completely level the field between her and that giant but it will at least give her a fighting chance. I will try to come up with other ways too.. But we obviously can’t be too overt in our aid.” Valora nods. “I want to see the chemical formulas and research for this..” Anderson laughs. “What makes you think you’d understand them?” Valora raised an eyebrow. “The fact that I went to med school.. I have..” Valora paused as she counted in her head.. ‘At least 4 or 5 separate degrees.. One of them an M.D… all of them having to do with science in some way, shape or form.” Anderson nods. “Yes.. and our scientists are some of the smartest people in the world.. People who make the likes of Einstein and Hawking seem mundane. I will try to get the notes.. In the meantime.. You’ll have to trust me that this won’t hurt Abbigail Long term usage… might have side effects.. But the plan is to use this for one fight.. She should be safe.” Valora nods. “Good… because if it does hurt her.. I will kill you.” Valora turned and started to leave, pausing as a thought came to her. “Wait… why is Warhammer providing the soldiers for my match?” Anderson smirked. “Because the North Koreans planned on shooting both of you.”
Valora sighs. “And here I thought they’d offer me a job.” Anderson nods. “They planned on it.. But they’re worried you might say no. They have been torturing you and Abbigail after all.. Kind of hard to wave some money at you and expect you to help them.. Even if they do consider you to be little better than a common whore..” Valora nods. “Yes.. I’m well aware of how they view Americans…” Valora turned to face Anderson. “So what’s the plan? I would have thought that you wouldn’t want the Emperor killed.. But it seems like you don’t care.” Anderson smirked. “We have information… information that has led us to put a plan in action that will hopefully encourage a very mentally unstable leader to commit a huge mistake.. A mistake we plan to capitalize on… that’s all you get for now.. Show me you’re really on the team and maybe I’ll tell you more.”
Valora scoffed and rolled her eyes... “One more thing.. I want Kronin, Abbigail and I in that fancy fuckin’ hotel.. I wanna see what broke ass North Koreans consider to be ‘luxury.’ Anderson nodded. “Fine. You’ll be transferred within the hour or so now that you’re working for Warhammer..” Valora had turned and was starting to walk to the door as Anderson spoke again. “I have to say.. I’m surprised you gave in so easily.” Valora paused as she opened the door and smirked as she glanced over her shoulder. “We need each other once again Anderson. Understand I’m using you just as you’re using me.. And just because I work for you today doesn’t mean I won’t kill you tomorrow.” Valora said as she slipped out the door and headed back towards her cell. In the room, Allan Anderson just smiled as he watched Valora leave and nodded. “There’s the Valora I was hoping to see.”
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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 17:14:18 GMT -5
Written by Dr. Summeroff
Dreams of Going Home
MISERY I It occurred to him in the dressing room – as quickly as a flash of lightning descending from the sky. He was a marionette. An actor in a b-rated movie – a movie so ridiculous it made the six Sharknado films seem like high art. He was playing the part of Finn. Unlike Sharknado though – Abishag didn’t even have a Tara Reid - as strung out and drug addled as she appeared in her most recent outing against the most terrible Sharks put to film since Adam West was gnawed on by Rubber sharks in Batman – The Movie. Instead, he was truly alone in this horrible life. His brothers were bit players – Truman show stage props designed to move the plot along and wink at the audience while the star – Abishag – was none the wiser…
Until now. His anger grew inside him – blasting outwards like angry, billowing thunderheads giving voice to the rants of an angry god.
The Blob was testing him, there was no doubt of that.
It was too much.
One minute, he was a man of blob - and no sooner than the time it takes to clear a room with a fart redolent with Mackerel – his faith failed.
“GOD DAM YOU!!!” Abishag roared from his holding cell – his voice carrying over the place, waking and chilling those lucky souls who had thus far survived Kim’s sadistic games.
His fist trembled, his upper lip quivered, his nose ran and tears of rage filled his eyes.
Two soldiers standing outside his cell on night watch smiled…one even kicked the large black body bag – the one containing Buzi’s charred corpse. It seemed Kim took pleasure in making sure the combatants could be close to the dearly departed.
“I will rip your arm off and cram it down your throat!” Abishag bellowed.
The guard kicked the bag containing Buzi again. Puffs of smoke escaped through the zipper.
Abishag grabbed onto the bars of his cell and began to shake them, screaming in rage. They actually began to dislodge from the water damaged concrete they were based in.
The two soldiers began to talk quickly in Korean and one made the mistake of getting too close to tell Abishag to sit back down. He had his gun pointed at Abishag but before he could truly believe what was happening, Abishags arm shot out from the bars and grabbed the end. The giant pulled the soldier in closer by the weapon and now the other arm shot out and grabbed onto the guards head. This wouldn’t be slow. It wouldn’t be merciful. It was going to be ugly. He could shoot the guard but that was a quick death…one the now screaming guard would not get. Abishag had both hands on the side of the guards head. The other guard yelled and pointed his weapon at Abishag but the brute knew the soldier wouldn’t shoot. He was too valuable. He had to die in the ring…
…and so he could do nothing as Abishag crushed Guard #1’s head like a grape in between his hands. The head snapped and popped and then caved in, the contents exploding out onto the ground.
As the body fell, other guards arrived. They opened Abishag’s cell and eventually overwhelmed him with sheer numbers. Not before more bones and 3 other soldiers met their ends.
On the other end of the cell block, the other surviving UOW wrestlers could only sit and listen, knowing they were being marched to what could amount to a gruesome death.
A camera on the opposite side of the cell block focussed in on the commotion…
And very soon, what appeared to be a doctor and a high ranking guard appeared. They pushed past the rank and file guards and studied the fallen Abishag. The doctor touched Abishag’s ribs and the monster winces in pain.
“Kim wanted him untouched!!! He’s spoiled! Look at this! A broken rib!!” The Doctor roared.
The high ranking guard’s eyes opened wide and he begins to berate one of the low ranking guards. He then brings out a knife and opens a wide smile across low ranks neck. More guards appear to take away the current guards. No doubt they’d feed them to Belial…
If Belial were still alive.
That idiot former tag team partner of his had dispatched the little blob of clay…much to the anger of Kim.
Soon, it was quiet again. Only the sounds of Takuma Sato’s snoring could be heard.
What a miserable world this was…
Abishag, observed through the eye that wasn’t swollen shut from his beating that It was still night. The only light was still owed to the overhead light tracking. Somewhere, water dripped from a pipe…and then in his own cell – a sound. The former acolyte of the Blob turned his head…and met the eyes of a large rat. They looked at one and other…and then Abishag grabbed the thing by the neck and tore into its throat with his teeth. Blood jetted from the rodent’s wound. He tossed the thing through the bars and at the feet of the new guard patrolling the hall. It startled the man and he swore at Abishag.
“Come over here and say that”, Abishag growled as he tried to stand. His whole body ached. He had welts and bruises forming deep red tissue injuries. His face was swollen, his lip broken and clotted. His broken rib ached.
The guard knew better after having witnessed the violences not so long ago.
Abishag sat back down.
How did he get here?
One minute he was oblivious – his mind wiped – and living peacefully in Northern British Columbia. The next – Summeroff had found him and reminded him of who he was. The memories came flooding back and with them, his devotion to the Blob. Any hope of happiness and a peaceful evaporated.
Well with Summeroff gone, what was stopping him now? Buzi was dead. Only Abaddon remained.
When this tournament was over…and should he survive the matchup with Abigail Dresden and the shark pool match….was it sharks? Or was it electric eels and Piranah’s? Or boiling oil…who knew anymore.
Didn’t matter.
When this was done, he was leaving behind this life – the Blob, the brotherhood, the order, McStrump….all of them. He would return to his home – his log cabin in Toad River - far in the North where he would hunt and fish and eat his catches over the grill on a bed of flame. That was all he wanted now. That was all he needed.
…but first he had to escape this place. Destroy Dresden and then hope the vile despot holding him here was satisfied. If not – he would be dealt with. As would the rest.
He just wanted to go home. There was nothing left in this life anymore.
As if adding to the thought, in a cell not far from him, a voice full of pain and suffering wailed out and then was silenced – only the sounds of batons rapping off bone were heard.
Then quiet.
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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 17:16:01 GMT -5
Written by Vastrix
A Conversation
“God’s Gift” Jeremiah Vastrix lays upon a surgical table as a team under the lead of a Dr. Virgil Schultz work on restoring his face.
Dr. Virgil Schultz is a mad scientist or theoretical scientist. A number of sciences once thought improbable at best become practical under Dr. Schultz’s genius leadership.
The fight against Belial had ruined Jeremiah’s face and lost him his remaining good eye. A combination of nanotech, cybertech, and old fashioned skin grafting would go a long way to fixing him up enough to be able to fight again.
Through a window watches Allen Anderson, executive of Warhammer Corporate fame. Standing next to him in a business suit that costs more than the value of some nations is Warhammer Corporate CEO, Micheal Vastrix. He looks stately with his steel grey hair as he watches the surgeons do their work.
MICHEAL VASTRIX: He is my last remaining heir. I will be sad to see him die at the hands of that Takuma Sato fellow. Do we know the details of the match yet?
Anderson gives Micheal the side eye before clearing his throat.
ALLEN ANDERSON: We don’t know what kind of atrocious match that the Koreans have in mind yet. Though I will have to ask. You’ll miss Jeremiah? You have tried to have him killed yourself! Several times.
Micheal just shrugs, taking out his smart phone and opening an application.
MICHEAL VASTRIX: You don’t understand. You don’t have children who want to one day murder you and take control of the world spanning company that your family has built from the conquest up.
ALLEN ANDERSON: Except that Jeremiah doesn’t want to do that. Heck, he wouldn’t have even been working to take your place if you hadn’t personally requested him to take things seriously so he can fulfill his duties as your heir. Losing him to Sato would be a blow to the company. Is your daughter even willing to take up the mantle? I don’t think so.
Micheal Vastrix is silent for a long time, his hands folded neatly behind his back as he watches the people work on his last living son. He has had three sons and one daughter by Monica Vastrix, but events led to the death of the two older sons. Incidents that Monica believes to have been the machinations of Micheal Vastrix himself in his paranoia of his children desiring to commit patricide as he did to his own father.
MICHEAL VASTRIX: There are few people in this world that would dare speak to me in the kind of tone that you think that you think you can do. I would have lesser men killed.
Micheal puts his smart phone away, whatever he was working on now complete. Anderson just chuckles.
ALLEN ANDERSON: I’m old. I’m not as old as you, but I am old enough to not care about trying to hide from your wrath. I’ll speak my mind honestly instead of speaking only lies. It’s my value to you.
Micheal nods, watching with a total dispassion as sparks fly from setting up the framework for Jeremiah’s new cybernetics.
MICHEAL VASTRIX: It is that honesty that I value the most. Do you think that Jeremiah will survive this next round? Do you think that the United States will be pushed over the edge for a Warhammer takeover when they obliterate this nation?
Anderson pulls a silver cigarette box from his inside pocket, lighting one. He watches the proceedings with much more concern than the father.
ALLEN ANDERSON: I trust in Dr. Schultz’s skills. He can rebuild the broken Jeremiah into a fighting machine that will destroy Sato. If a war is triggered, the public reaction of the United States destroying North Korea will get our candidate a landslide victory. We’ll be able to use the war as a way to cement control forever. Just as we have done with other nations. I think that those UOW stars that survive this next round will be of particular use.
Micheal Vastrix raises an eyebrow with a grin.
MICHEAL VASTRIX: You just want to get your claws into Valora Salinas again.
ALLEN ANDERSON: She’s a capable fighter and deliciously skilled killer. Why would I not?
MICHEAL VASTRIX: You’ve developed a soft spot for the girl. You should have had her killed when she broke away from your control before. Loose ends.
Anderson chuckles as he flicks ashes onto the floor.
ALLEN ANDERSON: I know what a valuable tool she is and know that there will come a time that I will need her services again. If she wants free of Korea before its destruction, she will do as I ask. Besides, wetwork is in her blood.
MICHEAL VASTRIX: Bah. You’ve gone soft on the girl. How many other operatives have you lost control of and had put down? Twenty-seven? More? Valora is a liability if she cannot be controlled.
ALLEN ANDERSON: I understand. She will listen to reason. I know it.
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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 17:17:20 GMT -5
Written by CreativeTruth
Kronin, meet your match. Mind if I smoke?
Do not try these stunts at home. These stunts should only be performed by a professional redneck.
Warning: Foul language, and crude humor included. Don't lose your lunch. Keep liquids out of your nose.
Sitting motionless on a wheelchair, only the eyes dart from left to right. It wears a hockey mask. Behind the mask is a burned, slashed, and charred face that is probably more hideous than Freddy Krueger. A nightmare, yet no one is sleeping. The air around is gray, not from darkness, but from the stagnant cloud of ash surrounding the charred form. Bloody bandages are wrapped around the arms, legs, head, and back where skin grafts and surgical procedures had been done to repair the inhuman amount of damage sustained. Intravenous fluids are being delivered through a vein in the elbow. A wire taped to the chest signals the only thing breaking the silence, the heart monitor that beeps to the rhythm of the belabored heart beats.
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Scott Slade: Welcome fans to what remains of Ultimate Wrestling, the place were the best wrestlers in all of sports fight in the most competitive matches on the planet. I'm here reporting, obviously not live, from a North Korean high security prison facility, so secret it isn't even on the map. By the time you see this footage, if you even get to see these rare moments, there is a good chance that Dictator Rocket Man has already finished with his Final Plan for all of us still here. Inside this cell, you are looking at the remains of one of the bravest, or perhaps the dumbest men I've ever seen in wrestling. Huckleberry may have won his recent tournament match by defeating the sadistic, abusive, and very dangerous, Queen of Evil, Kim Ji-Min. However, he won that match at a great cost as you can see. The entire roster is surely thankful that Huckleberry dispatched the demoness, and so I'm here to pay my respects for what very well could be the last time we see Huckleberry alive. The Appalachian Hillbilly is set to face Kronin to secure a place, and perhaps his life, in the second tier of the Death Sport Tournament. Let's check in now, and see how he is shaping up for his match. Huckleberry? Huck? Can you hear me?
From the deepest nether regions within his small and lithe form, an otherworldly tremor emanates from Huckelberry's void of a mouth. Host Scott Slade pinches his nose to avoid passing out from the stench of the horrendous burp. One of the guards outside slumps over and collapses. The other panics, and begins to slide his unconscious teammate down the hall to get some help.
A blackened hand lifts an electric microphone box up to his neck. An electric monotone voice speaks.
Huckleberry: Hot dig-it-ty. I think we're a-lone now.
Scott looks around, and notices the guards have evacuated the hall outside.
Scott Slade: You're right. There doesn't seem to be anyone around.
Huckleberry: Got-ta light?
Scott Slade: A light? Huck, you hardly look like you should be smoking in your current condition--
Huckleberry slams his fist down on the armrest of his rickety wooden wheelchair. The force of the jarring action shakes the IV cart precariously. Huckleberry braces himself and coughs violently, barely securing himself within his seat. He spits, and a black goo slides down his chest from under the mask.
In an uncharacteristically monotone, calm robot voice, he curses to the best of his ability.
Huckleberry: Yan-kee... swine... in-grate... dag-um... as thick as mah-nure... half as use-ful. You gon-na dee-nah me my last re-quest? I been cold tur-key fer uh month, nan days, fer howrz, and ferty far mints.
Scott Slade: Did you hear that folks at home? It's been 39 days---
Huckleberry: And fer howrz, and far mints.
Scott Slade: (Facing the camera) Yes indeed, and you can see what affect that has had on his mental apptitude heading into his next match with Kronin. Trust me, I've battled my own demons in rehab, and I know how hard it is to concentrate and keep your spirits up. I know from experience how bad withdrawal symptoms can be, and going cold turkey 100% can in some cases be extremely dangerous. It's amazing that he has survived as long as he has. Despite the medical treatment here being top-notch, this isn't exactly a Rehab Center, and I have seen the miserable interrogation conditions many members of the roster have had to endure in this high security prison complex. Here...
The host sticks a cigarette in the mouth hole of the white mask, and lights it up with a Zippo.
Drool seeps down the hillbilly's black and blood stained t-shirt as he wets his dry lips around the nicotine laced death stick. Between puffs, he laboriously speaks one syllable at a time through the electric voice synthesizer.
Huckleberry: Don't wor-ry 'bout me. I have wrass-uld Kron-in be-fore, and I can do it a-gan. He may have re-a-ranged my nose, but as long as I am still breath-un, no-wun kin keep muh down.
Slowly, he swivels the wheelchair around and rolls closer to the wall with his back to Scott and the camera. He reaches over to a bedside table and from underneath he peals out a shiv that was concealed there. Hastily, he begins cutting away at the bandages surround his head and neck, and unraveling it. He casts the mask off.
Scott Slade: Huck? Huckleberry? I don't think that's a good idea. You need to wait for your wounds to heal before you---
After looking at his face in the hand mirror, Huckleberry drops the voice box to the floor, and smashes the mirror into the cement wall, bloodying his hand with fresh wounds. He stands up awkwardly, hunched over, and stares at the glass shards reflecting his broken form back up at him. A monstrous laugh filled with coughs and wheezing echoes down the hall, louder and louder, stretching his failing lungs to their full capacity. The laughter becomes hacking. The hacking becomes a spasmming gasp for air.
The heart monitor halts. A solid tone.
Scott Slade: Oh my god! Is there a doctor?! Somebody get a doctor. I think Huckleberry is having a heart attack! A doctor, please!
Clawing his chest, the poor redneck seizes up, and reels back into his wheelchair. Scott Slade checks Huck's mouth and nose for signs of breathing, and also checks for a pulse.
Scott Slade: I think I still feel a pulse, but he's not breathing. Damnit! Somebody get a doctor! Huckleberry is going to die.... okay, okay. Mouth to mouth it is...
Scott scrunches up his face like a lemon, at the sight of the ruined face of Huckleberry. With two arms, the body grabs Scott in a two-hand headlock and lands a big kiss on his lips.
Huckleberry: Mwwwawaaa! Yeeeeeehaaaww!
Scott Slade: Puah! Puah! Yeeeaauuuck! What the hell was that for?
Huckleberry: Gotcha good there, didn't ay?!
With a slap on the knee, Huckleberry jumps up off his chair and does a little jig. Still, not in the best of shape after the very real injuries he had, he does seem pretty happy that he can move around without too much pain.
The camera pixelates Huckleberry's lower half. Bare below the waist, he has a full moon showing. The ratty cotton shirt barely covers his man-parts in the front.
Scott Slade: Huckleberry, where are your pants?
Huckleberry: My pants? Ah can't wear um. Ye see, I got burned so bad from the C4 exposetives, that I have to keep applyin' this here cream 'round my crotch and crack every few hours. Was gunna spread butter on my biscuits, but the nurse wouldn't let me. So they gave me this magic gel, and it feels all tingly inside. If I knew 'bout this stuff years ago, ay'd be making a killin' sellin' it to muh mountain buddies suffering alone in bed on the cold nights. Sure fire way to get the party started when the wife is as cold as a witch's tiddy in a brass bra.
Hobbling over to the toilet, Huckleberry grabs a brown sponge that was floating inside and starts wiping his face off. Most of the blood, suit, and scars are washing off.
Scott Slade: Now, just wait one second here! Are you telling me, this was one big practical joke on me?
The guards returned sometime during this event, and they are already smiling as they aim cell phone cameras at Scott and Huck.
Huckleberry: Damn straight. Scotty, you should have seen the look on yer face.
Guard: Snapchot. Snapchot.
Huckleberry: Yuh hear that? Don't need a translator for that one. Yeah, I guess we're going to be going viral any time now.
Scott Slade: So you aren't really hurt? Your face isn't really a wreck? Your back? Your legs?
Huckleberry: Alright, alright.... I'll tell ya how bad it really is. Yeah, that Kimchi witch cut up my legs real bad, but with the surgery they say I got lucky, and none of the major muscles or tendons were permanently damaged. My back has been busted since I was four when I was playing with daddy's gopher bombs, so it ain't like I can't deal with the pain I already learned to suffer from in that area. I got some burns and scars. It's just skin, it heals over. Won't be purdy, but it heals. Worst party is this...
Pointing to his head, Huckleberry's furry hair looks like it's all wrapped up in a nest, with a long tail down the back. It's quite patchy and frizzy.
Scott Slade: Almost looks like a coon-skin hat. You know, you might be able to work that into your angle somehow. It worked for Ben Franklin in France. Maybe it can work for Huckleberry in North Korea. The fans already seem to like you for your-- ahem-- shall we say, unorthodox ways?
Huckleberry throws Scott down onto his wheelchair, and continues ripping off bandages around his head, arms, and legs, while using his other hand to sponge off the bloody grime he covered himself with to make his condition look worse than it really is. The camera has to censor nearly the whole screen as the red-ass redneck stands spread eagle.
Huckleberry: If you think I'm gonna work this mess of a mullet into my ring entrance... it looks like Oprah had sex with the Miller Paint man! These squiggly white hairs ain't never gonna grow out. People, used to say, "Tom Berenger, can I have yer autograph?" Now they be sayin', "Looks like Dr. Frankenstein stapled the pubes to the wrong end." Now, if you'll exuuuuse me, I am late for my appointment with Mr. Ben Gay.
Scott Slade pushes Huckleberry out of the way, and reels over to hurl everything he had been holding back into the jon.
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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 17:19:12 GMT -5
Written by CreativeTruth
Prison Escape: The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry
What you are about to witness is really, really bad writing. It's crass, rank, inappropriately unapologetic satire. This post represents my roleplay for Ultimate Wrestling. This is fictional writing for a fantasy pro wrestling organization. Enjoy, or not!
The camera zooms out from the exhibitionist's plumber's crack. The mottled man is sniffing at the floor near the wall like a hog snorting for truffles. Beside the bent over hillbilly known as Huckleberry is long-time Ultimate Wrestling host legend Scott Slade with a microphone. Together they are inside a prison cell with few amenities, such as a pristine, clean toilet, a comfortable cot, a blanket and sheets expertly tucked in without wrinkles, and a wooden wheelchair. Two guards are stationed outside the cell with their backs to the interior.
Scott Slade: Welcome to another behind the scenes update at Ultimate Wrestling where amazingly enough, I am allowed to broadcast on a two-hour delay from a top secret prison facility in North Korea. All of the UOW roster is here, as guest competitors in the Death Sport tournament, a battle-to-the death contest pitting our own roster against the monstrous champions of North Korea. So far most of our roster has come out alive, but not all of them have been so lucky. My condolences go to Dwight "The Legend" Couch. Dwight, you'll always be a legend in my book.
While Scott Slade continues on with his scripted speech to the camera, in the background Huckleberry stands up and scratches his head. He is looking at a small hole in the wall between the baseboards. Using a shiv buried under a wad of gum under the arm of his wheelchair, he uses it to unscrew pieces of the wooden contraption. In only a few short moments, he is able to dislodge a curved metal bar that was used to support the arm of the wheelchair. With expert finesse, the unorthodox hillbilly begins wedging it through the slats of the wall like a crowbar.
Scott Slade: Also Brother Buzi, who spent a lifetime I believe afflicted with Elephantiasis, so severe it permanently disfigured his face and body into what some would call a grotesquely enlarged shape, and no-doubt a lifetime of ostracization from society because the world would never fully accept him. Brother Buzi, I salute you. We also recognize the passing of the courageous Veteran Walter Reagan. He was a selfless hero from Desert Storm, and a true American hero. In his death, I can only hope he is able to finally find the peace he always so sorely craved. Also we moan the death of the beloved Gabriela Montgomery, the Caramel Delight of UOW. I think she'll be remembered among the list of stars such as Marilyn Monroe, Jayne Mansfield, Farrah Fawcett, Kim Basinger, and Kim Kardashian. Still, we can treasure here lifetime achievement forever through the library of her hundreds of video viral sensations.
A small pile of eroded cement, splintered wood, broken tile, and shattered drywall is forming around the enlarged hole Huckleberry has been whittling away at. Big enough to reach his head and shoulders through, but blocked by a wall of insulation and wiring. Returning to the wheelchair, he manages to unscrew the axle and one of the wheels. Using the leg of the cot to hold down the wheel, he stomps on the spokes until the rim pops off. Satisfied with his work he uses the "spoke spinner" to shred through the padded wall of fiberglass, clouding himself in a cloud of pink puffballs.
Scott Slade: Along with our own roster of defeated UOW superstars, the North Koreans mourn the loss of their own champions, "Hammer Hands" Blake Luthor, "The Living Nightmare" Kim Ji-Min, Soo Hyung the 23 inch sword assassin, and Belial the... well I don't know what to call him. The Mutant Head? With the entire North Korean roster annihilated, that leaves only our own UOW roster remaining in the second tier brackets of the tournament: Abbigail Dresden, Brock Ashibag, Huckleberry, Kronin Reinhardt, Takuma Sato, Jeremiah Vastrix, Davey-Boy O'Brien, and Champion Valora Salinas. Who will return home an international champion, and who will be sent home in a body bag?
Huckleberry: Eureka!
Finally, Scott turns around to acknowledge the devastation wrought by the redneck ransacking this cell.
Scott Slade: Huckleberry, I can't help but notice you seem to uh... would you come out for a moment, and explain what's going on here?
Scrambling out backside first, Huckleberry has a rat's nest of pink fluff crowning his already peculiar white-streaked, frizzed mullet-rat-tail hair. He raises one eyebrow to the camera and speaks directly to the camera in a fake mad-scientist vocal style, as if he had been rehearsing his acting abilities, poorly, for weeks.
Huckleberry: Ah-ah-ah-ahem!
Predictably, the nasty country bumpkin spits fat loogie onto the floor
Huckleberry: Let me update y'all on the pre-dic-a-ment we are now in. Yuh see, I been uh study'n the operations 'round here, and it seems like many of them are being, shall we say, "altered" with suspicious substances. They tried pumpin' some of that green ooze into my IV fluids an' into my creamed corn, but what they don't know is I'm too smart to fall fer that. See, that hole right there I knew from the moment I arrived was a rat's hole. They're all over this place. Can't ever git rid of 'em once yuh got 'em. So I've been feedin' my remnants of the green guck through that there hole to get rid of any hidden traces.
Heading over the bed, Huckleberry starts to unravel the sheets and folding it into a sort of bag shape.
Huckleberry: Mind handin' me that jar of pickles over there? Behind the bars over there, Mistuh Slade.
Scott walks over and, sure enough, discovers an over-sized jar of dill pickles hidden in the corner of the cell. He hands it to Huckleberry, who wraps it up within his sheets.
Scott Slade: Why on earth do you have a jar of pickles, and why aren't the guards trying to stop you from escaping through this gigantic hole you just made? I can't believe what you've done. We're going to be in a lot of trouble here any moment now.
Huckleberry: I'm a git'n there. Hold yer horses. Now, as I was sayin'... after a few weeks of eatin' the green goo, them rats are git'n to be the size of small dogs, and twice as nasty. I'm an expert with rodents, if you weren't aware, and so I been training the big uhns and the small uhns to start carvin' a way out for me. They probably have tunnels throughout the entire complex by now. The low rank guards, I come to find out, we are brothas of a diffr'nt color. Same strokes, even though we start'd half a world apart. I reckon they don' give a lick if I break a few rules here and there, 'cuz I gave Bee-yom-Sooks and Kwang-Joe a pack of rare GX Pokemon cards. And the feller watchin' the cameras agreed to replay videos me practicing my expert kamasutra techniques in case any of the higher ups might want to peep in or signal if anything suspicious was going on in my cell.
Scott Sledge: Hold on, so you bribed the guards? Are you insane? If anyone found out they might torture you, these men, and their families! How did you get these pickles and a pack of rare pokemon cards?
Huckleberry: GX pokemon. And I also gave the camera operator our special Adult-Only issue of UOW magazine featuring the late, Gabrielle Montgomery in her tell-all, fully undressed look at the life an times of how she became Caramel Delight sensation. See after my last victory in my match, the winners were allowed a few amenities to enjoy. They asked me what I wanted, so I got the pokemon cards for my buddies guardin' the cell, the magazine, and the pickles for myself. They were suggesting I get cigerettes, alcohol, a massage, and other worthless crap. I don't trust the guys up in the higher positions here. Might slip God-knows-wut intuh' my drank. I seen what that Kimchi gal did to the others. Besides, even without the bribes, most of the guards in this here slammer are pullin' my arm to sign autographs, and snappin' selfies of us to send to their friends and family back home. Apparently, there's even uhn underground jackpot building up. They say it's a 6 hundred million satoshis, whatever the hell that is, with 2 to 1 odds I make it outta here with my skin attached in some way er 'nother.
Scott Sledge: So now you've got a rat tunnel leading... well where does it lead? You think it leads out?
Huckleberry: I dunno, but I'm on a mission to find somethin' 'fore I try to break out' v'here.
Using a wooden pole he was hiding under his cot, Huckleberry ties up his white sheet together to make his own version of a custom hillbilly bag. He slings the wooden bar against his shoulder with one arm to support it, and starts crawling through the tunnel. More dust falls to the ground from the rat hole as Huck turns around. He reaches out to Scott for a handshake.
Huckleberry: Wish me luck!
Scott shakes his hand, and then wipes it on the leg of his pants. Scott's expression as he looks back at the camera is of total bewilderment.
The scene edits now to some black and white raw footage, presumably from a security camera. It shows a plain hallway near a gate marked "Garbage Pick-Up". The chunk of the lower wall explodes into a cloud of crumbs and dust, and Huckleberry emerges from his expansive rat hole maze. The footage shows him rummaging through a trash bin. He starts tossing bloody towels, tissues, stained bandages, and bottles filled with toxic and biological waste. Unsatisfied, he steps inside the bin, and starts grabbing the freakish remains of actual body parts: burned hands, severed arms, legs that look like they were used as a pincushion, and acid washed sheets of skin tissue.
After rummaging through for a few minutes, he seems to have found what he was looking for. Huckleberry opens his jar of pickles. He eats one, and drinks some of the juice. A couple of rats crawl around the base of the bin sniffing the area. Huck tosses them a finger, which they hungrily begin to feast on. When finished, the dirty hillbilly gives a complementary burp. Under the mess of broken bones and body parts, Huckleberry finds a weird mutant arm attached to half a head, and another matching piece of the monstrous form. Doing his best to gently handle the two halves of the skull, he slides it into the pickle jar so that the two broken halves fit adjacent to each other. Huck kisses the outside of the jar in glee, and quickly crawls out over the edge of the bin. The whole container falls over, dumping waste on him, and dripping a puddle of blood and acid all over the pavement. He scrambles back through the rat hole he came from.
The footage switches then to show an outdoor scene. It is the outside wall of the prison facility with tornado fences and barb wire, and shooting towers. A sewer manhole is lifted from outside the fence, and out emerges Huckleberry. Red lights start flashing, and search lights are roaming the area.
Speakers: Halt! Do not go any further. Return within the perimeter, or we will open fire.
Huck sticks his thumbs in his ears and waggles his fingers at the security camera. He jumps out further away to tease the snipers, to see if they will actually shoot, and then he jumps back closer to the fence, to show them he was just kidding. He repeats this over and over. Several times in fact, until one of the snipers gives him a warning shot, missing intentionally by inches. Continuing his antics, he moons the camera for good measure. Guards start running towards him firing tranquilizer darts.
Seeing that his opportunity to escape is now over, Huckleberry leaps back into the sewer hole with a big splash. Two guards follow him into the sewer. As the second one steps carefully into the hole following the first one, the severed mid-section of the first guard is hurled into the air behind him landing very dead beside him. His eyes widen and his arms swing wildly in the air as he screams for help. The shadow of a huge monstrous lizard creature with jaws fifteen feet in length clamp onto his head. It drops back into the hole latching onto its victim. The guard's hands clamp onto the surface ineffectively, and the weight of the beast pulls the rest of him down inside the cavity.
Another pair guards arrive. One slides the remains of the first guard back down through the hole, and the other is carrying a powered screwdriver and bolts the manhole down to prevent it from ever being opened again.
The footage finishes with a slideshow of photos of Huckleberry mysteriously appearing in various selfies in and out of prison with the local farmers. John Denver's "Take Me Home, Country Roads" accompanies the slideshow of impossibly/possibly staged photos.
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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 17:20:31 GMT -5
Written by Valora
UOW Deathsport rd 2: Abbigail Tries to Prepare:
A few hours later saw Abbigail, Kronin and Valora moved from whatever secret prison camp facility they had been kept at to the hotel they used for both the few rich North Koreans and those VIPS from outside the country. Each person had their own room, but for the moment, the three of them were in a bar in the hotel. Valora, was busily drinking tequila. Kronin for the moment, was drinking coffee. Abbigail sat at the bar, drinking nothing, eating nothing, keeping an eye on her two companions and still trying to deal with both the fact that she killed a person in cold blood and that she was likely going to die coming up. Valora walked over to her and sighed. “You need to eat something.” Abbigail turns and looks at Valora. “They use human feces as fertilizer.. And I don’t need to eat.. Abishag is going to kill me.. So I doubt lack of food is going to matter much.”
Valora sits down and nods. “Well with an attitude like that, yeah he will kill you.” Abbigail sighs. “He’s bigger, stronger and seems impervious to pain. Also, unlike me, he seems like he can kill without hesitation and he’s pissed one of his ‘brothers’ died last show. Just what the hell do you think I can do to cancel all that out?”
Valora said nothing and just reached down and rested her hand on Abbigail’s knee. She slowly moved the hand towards the side of the knee, resting it on one specific area before pulling her hand back, making a fist and striking, causing Abbigail to yelp in pain and fall to the ground, holding her knee Valora nodded. “Sciatic nerve.. It will hurt even Abishag for a few seconds, enough to give you an opening.. His neck, his throat. His nose.. You can’t toughen up those areas… his joints.. Knee, elbow, wrist, ankle, etc.. those are vulnerable and always will be. Yes he is bigger and stronger.. So you need to be faster. Also.. there’s a pool of sharks.. Knock his fuckin ass in and see if he can fight and kill sharks. I’d bet he can’t.”
Abbigail sighed and climbed back up to her seat, rubbing her knee and looked at Valora. “Right.. I’ll just superhero that shit. Run around like the Flash, hit him from all directions at once and knock him into the pool with my superhuman strength… oh wait.. I can’t do any of that.” Valora narrowed her eyes and grabbed Abbigail by the ear, yanking her out of the stool as she stood up as well and led Abbigail past a stunned Kronin, who watched the display with a raised eyebrow, She walked Abbigail out of the room and spun around, throwing Abbigail up against the wall and looked at her. “Alright. What’s your last name?” Abbigail narrowed her eyes. “Dresden.” Valora nodded. “Exactly. I know you can do more. I know you’re holding back who and what you actually are.” Abbigail nods. “Maybe.. And maybe it’s unfair for me to use these talents you think I have… especially here. How do you think the Emperor and his band of genetically inbred lackeys would react if Idid something spectacular and unexpected?”
Valora nods. “Well the Emperor might have other things to worry about. I think some of his allies are growing tired of him. Now.. you might have a bit of help. Part of my price in working for Anderson again was that Warhammer would ensure you live through the match. I want them to help you kill Abishag. They want Abishag dead anyways as his group is in the way of their plans. It’s a natural fit. That’s why I’m telling you to be fast. You might not have to be able to kill Abishag.. You just have to stay alive long enough for Warhammer to help you.” Valora said, her hands moving from a more aggressive stance to a more comforting one as she tried to inspire her younger protege.
Abbigail, for her part, looked up at Valora with tears in her eyes. “And I bet they threatened to kill me if you didn’t work for them. They view me as a weakness of yours.. Me dying is in their best interest.. So what happens when they don’t help me in the match?” Valora thought for a few seconds, weighing the options in her head as she looked around the narrow, richly decorated hallway of the hotel. Valora finally decided on honesty and nodded. “No, they didn’t threaten to kill you… Anderson threatened to activate whatever fuckin’ brainwashing might still be up in my head and make me kill you. If they don’t help you, I will. Then I’ll kill that crippled fuck Anderson, take his cane and shove it up Michael Vastrix’s asshole and burn down the whole fuckin’ operation that is Warhammer if I have to. I was given a few surprises in my meeting and I’ll have a chance to collect more before the show. But I’m being honest with you. I need you to be honest with me. At the stadium in Mt. Vernon.. I came across our locker room and someone had blasted the locker with a fireball or some shit…” Abbigail nods. “A trick you’ve used more than once..” Valora smirks. “Yeah.. but I need the right chemicals, a cloth and a lighter. Do you?”
This was the moment of truth. Valora stood right in front of Abbigail, her eyes locked on Abbigail’s eyes. Abbigail sighed and looked down for a few moments before nodding. “I know some But I’m.. not very good yet.. I have trouble controlling it at times.. Which is why I prefer not to use it.. Besides there are costs.. It works different for everyone depending on the type you’re using.. What you want to do.. And what you are. You know who my father is. You don’t know who my mother is.. If I use my gifts there will be costs and consequences.. It’s too risky.” Abbigail fell silent as she finished her comment, ending early before she went into too much detail. There it was.. She had admitted something she promised she would never reveal to anyone. Valora nodded. “I get costs and consequences.. You if you need to pull some fuckin’ voodoo shit to knock that fucker into the shark tank.. Then you pull some fuckin’ voodoo shit.. I’m not saying go all Dr. Strange on his ass..though I’ll say it’d be fuckin’ awesome if you did… I’m saying if you’re in trouble.. If you need an edge.. Take it. This is your life on the line here.. You gotta win.. Whatever the costs.. We’ll worry about that shit later… For now.. You need to focus on fuckin’ surviving.”
Abbigail rolled her eyes. “I don’t use voodoo, but I get your point. I’ll think about it..” Valora nods. “So.. what can you do.. Read minds and shit? Look into the future?” Abbigail sighed. “I can’t read minds.. That’s Telepathy.. I know a friend with that gift but I don’t have it myself.. If we ever get out of here alive, I’ll introduce you.. She might be able to help with whatever Warhammer did to you.” Valora smirked. “I like that idea.. She got a name?” Abbigail wiggled around and eventually broke free of Valora’s grasp before nodding. “Rosalyn. Rosalyn Crowley.” Valora frowned. “Sounds British.” Abbigail nodded a bit. Valora sighed and shook her head. “I hate the British.. Most of the ones I’ve met have been pompus, arrogant, elitist asses.” Abbigail tilted her head slightly to the side and raised an eyebrow. “I saw you on TV.. your big allies in RSW were Druscilla, Rob Riot and Father Nathan.. All three of who are either English or Irish living in Northern Ireland.” Valora nods. “My point exactly. Dru and Riot still have fuckin’ servants. They are the definition of elitists.” Abbigail smiled. “So… what happened? You seemed to have everything.. Rumor had it Riot had the hots for you.”
Valora scoffed. “Yeah… he liked me so much he disappeared and let his enemies beat my fuckin’ skull in week in and week out. I might despise Druscilla.. But at least the pompous bitch tried to get my back.I don’t know what happened. What I do know is that when I needed him, Riot wasn’t there. Then came the message.. I know it was likely one of Riot’s enemies.. But I got a notice that my contract was up and the company was not interested in renewing. I left Riot a message, waited for his call. It never came. Now I’m here… once again being asked to fight someone else’s fuckin’ war.. Once again not being paid nearly enough fuckin’ money to fight the god damn fuckin’ thing.. I used to be good at this shit… I’m getting soft in my old age…”
Abbigail laughed. “Or maybe you’re a better person than you thought.” Abbigail said, adding in a small smile. Valora wasted no time and shook her head. “No. I’m not.” Valora said before hugging Abbigail close. As she did so, Abbigail felt Valora slip something into her pocket. Valora whisper into her ear. “It’s a specialized injector.. Warhammer has all kinds of neat toys.. I mixed up something special for our friend Abishag.. Inject him with it and it should disorientate him, he’ll appear drunk.. I don’t know how long it will last, so when it kicks in, hit him hard and fast and do not, do not, do not show him any mercy.. If you fuckin’ hesitate like you did against porn star, he will break your fuckin’ back. I get it.. You don’t think Gabrielle deserved to die.. Trust me.. Abishag does The end justifies the means.. The end is you living another day.. Because if you fuckin; die on me I swear I will find a way to either bring you back from the dead and kill you or I will fuckin’ hunt your ass down in the afterlife and kick your ass.” Abbigail smiled a bit and hugged back as Valora finally released the hug, Abbigail looked at Valora and nodded. “Why? You seem to really care about me.. I mean you’ve never charged me for the training or anything…”
Valora smirks. “Survive the match.. Then we’ll talk. One more thing… box his ears..” Abbigail blinked in confusion. Valora turned and her hands moved out stopping just short of Abbigail’s ears on each side of her ears. “Hit both his ears hard and fast.. At the same time.. Your ears are key for balance.. A quick, sudden shock to them will disorientate a person for a few seconds.. Make them struggle to keep their balance.. Which then makes it easier for you to knock him down… or say.. Knock him off the platform and into the shark infested tank below.” Abbigail nods. “Any tips for me if I get knocked into the tank?” Valora nods. “Yeah.. your instinct will tell you to swim hard and fast… ignore it.. Stay fuckin’ still. Sharks don’t hunt with their eyes.. They’re basically blind.. They hunt by sound.. Splashing and thrashing in the water.. And blood.. Now if the North Koreans add blood and food to the water before the match.. Forget what I said and haul ass and hope you’re faster than the sharks.. But in clear water.. Float, try to blend in and make as little noise and such as possible.” Abbigail smirks. “Not reassuring.” Valora shrugged. “Then here’s a better plan… make sure you don’t get knocked in.”
Abbigail rolled her eyes at that and turned to head back to her room. She felt a bit better, and was definitely curious about a few things.. But she was still 100% sure she was going to die and that thought is what brought her here.. To the point where she needed to be alone, so she could prepare. One regret.. Her last few days on this Earth were going to be spent in North Korea. Not the best place to spend your final days.. As she got to her room and opened the door, she walked in and closed the door behind her, letting out a long sigh as she made her way to the bed and plopped down. Here, alone in her room, she could face the truth.. Here she could be what she really was and feel what she really felt. Here she could admit the truth. The truth was she knew she was going to die… and the thought terrified her.
It wasn’t that she did not appreciate the help Valora had offered. But let’s face it.. Valora and Abbigail had faced Abishag before.. Abishag had nearly broken Abbigail’s back in that match. Abbigail had lost to a damn porn star.. Maybe if Abbigail had some more experience and training under her belt she might have had a chance but right now.. The only way Abbigail saw herself surviving was if someone got involved and helped her. But then that wouldn’t mean that Abbigail had defeated Abishag.. It would mean that Abbigail needed help to win. Abbigail did find herself wondering why she cared about that.. I mean as long as she lived.. That was what was important, right? It certainly seemed to be the mindset Valora followed. Maybe that outlook would help Abbigail too.. There was only one way to find out.. Follow the plan Valora had given her.. Try to survive and.. See what happens...
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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 17:21:14 GMT -5
Written by MoonChild
The Strings of Fate and Fortune: The Takuma Sato Story: Chapter 11
Prologue
Takuma Sato is a martial arts savant who trained with his father since the age of five in Jeet Kune Do. When his father committed suicide, he left a massive financial debt for him and his mother to inherit. Facing the dark reality of losing their home and ending up on the streets of Detroit, Takuma enlisted into Ultimate Wrestling to fight his way to his family’s financial freedom. Using the gifts that had been bestowed down upon to him from his father and his father before him, Sato now finds himself closer than ever to accomplishing his goal. When he wields the chakra charged Heart Punch he is the most dangerous man in professional wrestling.
Sato2.jpg
Intro
After having been framed by Ultimate Wrestling owner Rupert Mudcock at the Friday Night Clash for possession of schedule 1 narcotics and imprisoned in a federal penitentiary in Texas. Sato now finds himself half a world away in a North Korean prison cell with the rest of the Ultimate Wrestling roster and crew as hostages of the Emperor. Sato and the rest of the roster are being forced to compete in Kim’s Death Sport Tournament; a vile and demented contest of matches full of utter horror against some of the Emperor’s fiercest warrior champions. Sato has survived the first round, but not without permanent scars on his soul that will stay with him for the rest of his life…
Takuma sat up against the stone wall of his prison cell with his head hunched over in a depressed manner. Though physically he was one of the more fortunate of the Ultimate Wrestling fighters to come out of the first round relatively uninjured, spiritually he felt sullied and ruined on the inside. He had been forced to kill one of his own roster-mates having drawn Dwight Couch as his opponent in the first round. The two had been held at gun point in the center of the ring by Korean Soldiers and forced to fight in a pit of despair match where the loser wound up human pincushion on a bed of razor sharp spikes. The only physical injury he sustained during the fight was a gunshot wound to his right arm. Luckily the bullet had only grazed him and caused a flesh wound. The unlucky part was it was the same arm that was still in a cast from his broken hand he’d suffered against Valora Salinas at Ultra Slam.
In the cell across from him however was the man known as Vendredi. Sato found it strange that he had not been forced to compete in the tournament. Takuma figured ether the Koreans felt he was unworthy of competition or more likely, that they had some other important use for him. The young former college football player had not spoken much to Takuma. The two had been at odds with each other ever since their failed tag team partnership earlier in the year. Sato though had taken an interest in him ever since he met an astral projection of an older version of Vendredi from a parallel world during a deep meditative state a few months back.
That Vendredi was a ghostly figure who spoke with a heavy accent and was nothing like the Vendredi in front of him. Sato stood up and slowly walked over to the steel bars of his cage door holding his injured right arm with his good left hand for comfort. Vendredi had been in an unusual vegetative state on the floor with his legs crossed Indian style facing toward a make shift fire he had made with some old wood he’d broken off of his dilapidated bed.
Sato: Hey… HEY! Wake your ass up Vendredi! I want to talk to you! I want to know why you’re so special!
Vendredi came out of his trance and shook the cobwebs from his mind before standing up slowly and turning around to face Takuma. Vendredi looked tired and hungry, but for the most part a hell of a lot better than everyone else who’d been forced to participate in the Death Sport tournament.
Vendredi: How the fuck should I know? Do I look like Emperor Kim to you?
Sato glared at Vendredi unamused by his tone or his response. It was clear that Vendredi was hiding something and it was irritating the hell out of Takuma.
Sato: Cut the shit Vendredi! I know you’re not like the rest of us! There’s something different about you! I had a spirit, or an astral projection, or something other worldy that I’m incapable of humanly understanding, that looked like older version of you visit me during a deep meditation period!
Vendredi: Wait… what?
Sato: He claimed to be a different version of you from another world much like ours… he came to me with a dire warning that our world would soon face difficult times. He looked worn, withered, like a man who’d seen many horrors throughout his life!
Vendredi: Did he speak with a strange southern accent and wear white face paint?
Sato backed up shocked that Vendredi had acknowledge that he knew what and whom he had been describing. For months he’d hoped that it was all a hallucination and that the visit he experienced was only his tired mind playing tricks on him.
Sato: Yes dammit! Explain this insanity! This man spoke of a broken world filled war and chaos! He showed me horrors that I dare not think about.
Suddenly the loud raspy voice of Brother Abishag came bellowing down the hall of the prison block. He’d been beaten severely after a savage display of violence toward some guards who had disrespected the remains of his fellow cult member Brother Buzi. He’d been quiet for most of the night other than the occasional flatulent and flush of his toilet. However the subject of Vendredi’s and Sato’s conversation had peaked his interest.
Abishag: I too have seen a vision of this world! The Blob has shown us an America crippled by civil unrest and torn to asunder by a second Civil War! In this world the Baron Vendredi was a worthy fighter and a man of the people! Not this pathetic excuse of a man you see in front you Takuma! My brothers and I have been working towards averting this twisted fate from coming to pass in our world with the help of our watery master!
Both Sato and Vendredi stared at each other bewildered that anyone else in the world would even have slightest idea of what they were discussing, much less be able to contribute anything of substance to the conversation. Sato knew instantly from that moment that what he had experienced was not a hallucination but as real as flesh and blood. Furthermore it had validated that even if the Blob wasn’t truly a God like the Cult believed, it still did have strange powers that would no doubt play a major factor in the future.
Sato: Is that right? Because the Baron Vendredi that came to me told me to stay clear of you, Dr. Summeroff, and that damn Blob! I had no idea what he was talking about until you and your freak show entered all our lives!
The sounds of Abishag crushing his fist against the steel bars of his cell door echoed through the prison as he hollered a guttural response back at Sato. It was clear that Abishag was at the end of his rope and the stress of their capture and the death his Brother had weighed heavily on him.
Abishag: YOU DARE SPEAK OF THE BLOB IN THIS MANNER! THERE ARE THINGS THAT THIS VENDREDI FROM THE OTHER WORLD FAILED TO TELL YOU SATO! THINGS THAT HE COULD NEVER UNDERSTAND ABOUT THE BLOB!
Vendred: ENOUGH! Quiet down the both of you! The last thing we all need is another beating from the guards. If it’s answers you want and then I will give them to you to the best of my ability. It’s obvious that both of you have learned and seen things that few are privileged to be able to see.
Sato: More like cursed if you ask me… no man should have this much knowledge…
Vendredi nodded somberly before smiling a bit. He never thought he would ever meet anyone who could even begin to relate to the life he’d lead since he inherited the responsibility of protecting their world.
Vendredi: A curse…yes, I believe you might be right about that. My Grandmother the Baroness Mercuir of Louisiana passed the torch to me at 18 years of age and since then it’s felt like a curse. We are a linage of chosen people charged with protecting the world from evil. We harness great power through the art of Voodoo and she has been training and preparing me for this apocalyptic future the two of you have been describing. The Vendredi you two speak of, I too have also met him… many times.
Sato: Then what Abishag and I have seen is real?
Abishag: The Blob does not show false visions Sato! Of course it is real!
Vendredi sighed and continued to try to explain to them what they had seen and experienced.
Vendredi: Yes… I’ve met with many Baron Vendredi’s. In fact I have met thousands of Vendredi’s tasked with the same objective as I. However this particular Vendredi is from a world very similar to ours and he’s taken great interest in trying to help us avert our dark future because he failed to do so in his own home world.
Sato: So just now when you were staring into the flames for the past two hours?
Vendredi: I was conversing with him… AHHH! Ackk caah owahha Cah!
Vendredi’s eyes rolled into his head and he began to suffer a grand mal seizure. He pressed his arm instinctively against the cells bars and began to projectile vomit through them and onto the floor. Sato backed up as red aura and cloud of grey smoke enveloped the young man. Without warning Vendredi’s body contorted hard arching his back to the point where both Abishag and Sato could hear the bones in his spine crack. His feet then left the floor and he began to levitate in air inside of his cell with his eyes now focused back at Sato and glowing red. Takuma could not believe his eyes as the floating Vendredi began to speak in a familiar strange voice.
Abishag: Sato! What the hell is going on over there? I can’t see a damn thing from here!
Vendredi: Hah! Ha! Hee! It is I! THE BARON VENDREDI OF EARTH 313!
Sato: You! You’re the one that visited me and showed me that terrible world!
Vendredi: Indeed… it is I! Hah! The Baron is here to warn you both!
Abishag: Warn us of what? We know we're in a bad situation you laughing dolt!
Vendredi: Hah! Not all warnings revolve around your personal well being Blob worshiper! Heh…This concerns many people! Your world is faced with great danger! Emperor Kim with help of a dark organization plans to strike the United States with a series of thermal nuclear missiles! You must stop them!
Sato: You can’t be serious? Why on earth would he do that? It would mean the assured destruction of his country, his people, and himself!
The Baron Vendredi: Oooh no, NO! He doesn’t care! For his horrific plan is about leaving a dark legacy on the world and teaching America a lesson that they will never forget…
Abishag: The entire west coast? If he’s successful they will destroy the Blob, our church, the compound, and all of our brothers and followers will die! HE MUST BE STOPPED!
Sato: What a mad man… he’ll kill millions of people…
The Baron Vendredi: Not if you stop him! Hah! Ho! Hehehe! You are the key! All of you were sent here by destiny!
Sato: How are we going to stop him? Were imprisoned and being forced to fight to the death…
The Baron Vendredi: Hah! The answer lies… heh… with Jeremiah Vastrix’s eye!
Abishag: The man has no eyes left you chuckling fool!
The Baron Vendredi: Not his eyes his mother gave him, but the cybernetic eye in his skull is the key… heh. Mr. Mudcock had a small, but powerful bomb built and inserted into the cybernetic eye currently residing Jeremiah’s right socket. Hah! Ho…hehe… He’s been unable to remove it because as soon as the operating system detects removal the device is set to blow! BOOM! HAhahahaha! Hoo!! Rupert was using it to control Jeremiah and to force him to do his bidding.
Sato shook his head in disbelief. He knew Rupert was a horrible disgusting man but he never imagined that he would do something that was as repulsive as that to another human being.
Abishag: How does that play to our advantage? The soldiers never let us near the Kim.
The Baron Vendredi: Sato is scheduled to fight Jeremiah in the next round. Takuma, Heh… if you could somehow remove the eye and set it off near the Emperor during your match you could end him and possibly set off enough chaos! Hah heh hooo! Too allow you and your friends to escape from your holding cell.
Abishag: Even with the Emperor dead how do we know that the generals won’t follow through with his plans?
The Baron Vendredi: HAH! There is no guarantees in life Abishag! The Blob I’m sure has taught you this! You will have to find the compound housing the warheads and take out the launch control and guidance system. Then do what you can to escape before the Americans retaliate… no one left behind will survive the fire and fury of the American forces!
Without warning or further directions the red aura and smoke dispersed and the body of Vendredi dropped to the floor with a heavy thud. Sato sat and stared at the unmoving body of Vendredi and contemplated what had just happened.
Abishag: I’m guessing the snickering dupe is gone…
Sato: It’s over… I’m not sure but our Vendredi might be dead… he hasn’t moved an inch.
Abishag: Do you think you can do what he spoke of?
Sato: Maybe… I will need total silence. It’s going to take all the chakra I can harness… I must heal my hand...
Thank you for reading my original Story. This is a fictional drama and my role play submission for Ultimate Wrestling.
If you are interested in learning more about ewresting, efeds, and Ultimate Wrestling, you can comment below and request to join our Ultimate Wrestling roster. We are a fun community of friends, and we support each other and the growth of ewrestling roleplays here on steemit.
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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 17:22:17 GMT -5
Written by Kronin
UOW Deathsport rd 2 RP: Kronin
Kronin, for his part, sat in the new cell and watched as Valora was taken to meet with whoever planned to speak with her now. He couldn’t fault her logic.. She was a known mercenary and they faced an enemy that needed people to represent them. However, there was another option. The other option was that the North Koreans would turn the dial up to 11.. Make each round deadlier, and attempt to entertain the crowd by letting them watch westerners battle each other to the death. Kronin was sure that the latter option had occured to Valora as well.. Just as he was sure she had neglected to mention it because she did not want to add stress to her young protege. Glancing over at Abbigail, Kronin could guess what was going through her mind. Kronin was in the middle of evaluating her and determining the best approach to take when she glanced over at him and sighed. “Well since Valora doesn’t seem to want to help, how do you deal with it?” She then sighed and closed her eyes. “I mean… it sounds like from what Valora said that your match last show wasn’t the first time you’ve killed someone…”
Kronin smirked a bit and nodded his head. “No, it wasn’t. First time I killed someone… I.. wasn’t even 20 years old.. My twin sister and I were born in East Germany… Being puppets for the Soviet Union, the government followed a lot of the policies of the Soviet Union.. My sister and I were identified as having ‘athletic potential’ So.. we were separated from our family. Raised in dorms that were not much different from military barracks. Every day, or 10-12 hrs, we trained in the sports were picked for. In my case, football, or soccer as Americans call it. It’s why I’m likely one of the few people here who feels at least a little bit of pity for the North Korean girl that Huckleberry beat to death.” Abbigail’s jaw dropped in shock. “How the hell could you feel sorry for her?!”
Kronin shurgged slightly and smiled. “Because she never in her entire life made a decision for herself. She was likely taken from her family as a baby, raised in the military.. Thoroughly brainwashed.. I would bet money if you took her uniform away from her.. Her military life away from her.. She’d have no way to describe to you who she is. Her entire life was planned out for her. Someone telling her what to do, what to wear. How to think. How to dress. I guess you could make the argument that, she’s finally free now, but the tragedy is she probably never even realized she was a prisoner too. Her bars were different.. But they were still there.” After he finished talking, he leaned back a bit against the wall of the cell and regarded Abbigail. She seemed to be considering his words, which was good. Abbigail looked at him. “Valora mentioned you were born in East Germany. I don’t recall East Germany fighting anyone.” Kronin smirked. “No, we didn’t go to war.. The first time I took a life was… well I was defending another from a Russian soldier.. Luckily for me, the corrupt government on that issue was fairly just. My punishment was I had my rations halved for 8 months. For 2 years, if I was allowed out of my barracks, it was with armed guards.. Also for 3 years, part of my salary was docked to pay for compensation to the man’s family.”
Abbigail turned to face Kronin, interested in his tale. “Can you go into more detail?” Kronin sighed. “My twin sister, Kara… she had been granted leave a few days earlier than me. When I arrived, I found her lying on the snow and ice covered street, naked and bleeding. I still remember the contrast… the crimson blood stains in the white snow. The shocked looks of my neighbors.. The anger hidden under fear. But the fear being strong enough to stop them from doing anything.. One of the Russian soldier’s grabbed my sister by the hair and told her, in exceptionally poorly spoken German, and in graphic detail, what he intended to do her. I stepped forward, punched him. Grabbed his rifle and beat him to death with it.. My neighbors grabbed me and pulled me back before I could kill the second soldier.. That soldier was ready to shoot me until my normal babysitters showed up and ordered the soldier to stand down. I picked Kara up and carried her into the house.” Kronin paused for a moment and nodded. “The truth is.. You’re never going to forget this. You have a choice. I can help you deal with it in, what I believe, is a healthy manner. Or you can choose to deal with it the way Valora has.”
Abbigail turned to the door and stared at it for a long moment before looking back at Kronin. “What do you mean?” Kronin smiled. “I don’t know the full story… Valora has gone to superhuman lengths to make sure her past is well and truly buried. It’s clear to me that she lost someone.. Someone who mattered a great deal to her.. It’s also clear to me that the way she chose to deal with the lives she’s taken is… well, to become a sociopath. Try to cut herself off from human emotion, human feelings. She dehumanized herself until she could kill someone and feel nothing about it.”
Abbigail thought about this and glanced at Kronin again. “So how do you plan to prepare for your fight?” That was a good question. Kronin looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “To be honest.. It would be helpful if I knew what type of poison they planned to give Huckleberry and I. I could draw on my knowledge and I’m sure Valora would be able to help with more information as well, that would give me a sense not only of how much time I had to get the antidote but also give me an idea of the effects of the poison. Right now, my only comfort is that Huckleberry is going in as blind as I am.. As for how I plan to handle it? I don’t have a choice. Either I kill him quickly, to put an end to his suffering, I take the antidote, and let him die of the poison, or I let him kill me. I don’t relish it. I don’t like it.. But at the moment, Huckelberry is between me and escape. Between me and getting back to the people that I care about and love. I will do what I have to.. If a way to spare him crops up, I will do so. I am, however, preparing for the likely outcome that one of us will not leave that ring alive.”
Just then the door opened, and Valora came back into the cell and turned and kicked the door close, smirking at the grunt of pain from the guard who now found himself with a broken nose. Kronin raised an eyebrow. Valora rolled her eyes. “Well.. I got a job offer.. From Warhammer. Anderson.” Kronin narrowed his eyes and Valora nodded. “I don’t have a choice, Kronin.. I want to get the three of us, and as many other people of UOW out of this shithole. Right now, Warhammer is the best ticket to do that. Allan Anderson is the devil I know.. And because I let him have his win today doesn’t mean I won’t kill him tomorrow.” Kronin nodded. “Unless he messes with your head again.” Valora sighed. “That’s why I said yes.. He claims he can reactivate that programming again.. And given what he threatened to make me do, I don’t want to risk finding out if he’s telling the truth.”
(To Be Continued)
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