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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 17:29:01 GMT -5
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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 17:29:35 GMT -5
Written by Valora
The Valora Chronicles: UOW Season 2, Episode 1: From the Ashes
Valora’s private island, somewhere in the middle of the Caribbean:
Valora stood in what passed for her war room in one of the buildings on the island. She was staring at the map that showed where the missiles had hit. Next to it on the wall was a giant plasma screen playing video taken from a small army of news helicopters, military helicopters and drones circling the area.. Some of the drones were hers. Valora glanced over her shoulder and looked at Samantha Topher on her laptop. The woman rolled her eyes. “Really distressing that the U.S. military can’t do better cyber security than this..” She said hitting a few keystrokes and Valora began seeing images from military aircraft and helicopters. As she surveys the destruction we are treated to a rare sight as a single tear, then another, streams down her cheek. She clenched her hands in a tight fist. “Sam… I’m...I’m getting too old for this shit.”
Samantha stopped her typing and her glasses covered eyes peeked up over her laptop. “Valora… what you did was almost superhuman.” Valora punched the wall. “God damn it! Tell that to those poor fuckers that got vaporized! Like the Fallout video games?! Well The West Coast just got a real life fuckin’ version to try out for the next 70 years or so! I I had just been a little faster…”
Samantha stood up and walked over to Valora putting her hands on Valora’s shoulders. “You are the first and only UOW Franchise champion. You killed 2 people in brutal matches. Then you led the roster of UOW that survived in a escape from North Korea and yes.. 2 cities got nuked.. But you saved 4 cities from the same fate… remove yourself from the equation.. There’s a lot more damage… oh and you kept pace with Abbigail while she was on a super soldier serum and killed the CEO of Warhammer…”
Valora sighs. “Yeah.. Vastrix is going to hate me for that… On the serum, do we-” Samantha cut her off. “Still looking at it. It’s next level stuff, what I would expect from Warhammer. I watched the footage of her but.. Well… the fastest and most accurate way for me to analyze it would be to hook Abby up, monitor her biosigns before and after the drug is administered.” Valora glanced back and had already started shaking her head no. Samantha nodded. “Then it’s going to take time. I’ll find the answer, Val. Warhammer scientists aren’t anymore advanced than scientists outside the company, they just don’t have to worry about moral or ethical constraints. Certainly there’s no one there better or smarter than me.” Val smirked. “And what makes you say that?” Samantha smirked. “Let’s just call it a hunch for now. A better question is, I didn’t think Vastrix liked his father… why would he be pissed at you for killing him?”
Valora shrugs. “Because now he has to try and run Warhammer. I’d like to say that means he’ll actually have to take responsibility for once but.. Vastrix and I have something in common.” Samantha raises an eyebrow hearing this. “What could that possibly be?” Valora smirks. “We’re both masters of deception. The world sees the two of us exactly as we wish the world to see us, not as we truly are. Vastrix decided to ensure his father and the board members of Warhammer did not see him as a threat, so he played the drunken womanizer. I decided to use the racism and sexism of the world against it and let people write me off as just another Mexican whore from the barrios with a big mouth. And now, both of us are on top of the world in different areas, to be sure.. But we are both among the very best in what we do.”
Samantha thought about this for a moment and stood up. “Speaking of public perception…” Valora sighed and lowered her head. “Yes. that. What does the public know, do you think?” Samantha sighs. “The feed from North Korea was… uncut, unedited.. Every intel agency in the world saw you fight.. And your exact style of Krav Maga is fairly easily traced back to MOSSAD. I’m tempted to say. ‘Funny, you don’t look Jewish.’ just to add some levity but I know ex-MOSSAD agents like to hire themselves out as mercs.” Valora nods. “They do, and people love to pay them for their skills. But I believe the one who taught me was still with MOSSAD.. Why she agreed to train me, I don’t know. But it’s a useful skillset.” Samantha nods, continuing on with her briefing. “It’s hard to know what the fallout will be. On one hand, we have North Korea. I’m still trying to sort out how much of what the public knows, but public opinion of the UOW wrestlers who fought and survived there is through the roof. So you’re going to be welcomed as an American heroine.. Even MOX news viewers seem to think highly of you, well higher of you than they previously did, at any rate. I don’t think the public will hold your skillset against you, the main threat is going to be from governments, criminal organizations, and corporations.. To the American public, you’re essentially a female spy, like James Bond, Jason Bourne, Natasha Romanoff, etc.Further, you used your skills to save American lives.. As I said, I’m worried more about corporations, especially ones like War Hammer, enemy governments and criminal elements. There is also another potential outcome that could be a good thing or a bad thing..” She said, trailing off as she glanced at Valora, knowing how Valora felt about the option Samantha had led to.”
Valora sighed and nodded. “Yeah, some people are going to hope I lead some type of uprising or revolution. They’ll be disappointed.” Samantha looks at Valora and clears her throat. “Playing Devil’s Advocate here… why not? You have the resources.. You have your own island, you have allies, we can fill a variety of roles, you can garner a lot of support…” Valora sighs and nods. “Yeah and the moment I’m at the head of a violent movement against the government, I give McStrump and his fascists a symbol to point to and yell “See?! We told you they’re all criminals and rapists and murders.” I’ll pass on that. Besides.. I’m a problem solver, not a leader. I don’t trust anyone except a very small, select group of people. No, I like the Muhammed Ali comparisons that are being made, the man was a huge role model for me and the fact that people mention my name and his in the same sentence is the greatest honor I’ve ever won in my career. I’m gonna keep doing my thing.”
Samantha thinks about this for a second and nods. “Alright. We can discuss this more later, for now.. We have a match coming up.. Where’s Abbigail?” Valora shrugs. “This is her first big title match. She came to me and asked me what our plan was. She wants to work with me to help me hold onto the belt.” Samantha raised an eyebrow at this and Valora nods. “I gave her a few names, told her to take this title chance.. If she pisses away this title shot, she might not get another.. And I don’t need help to protect my belt.” Samantha nods. “Do you think she’ll try to beat you?” Valora thinks for a moment and shrugs. “Probably not, but that’s her advantage.. She doesn’t need to beat me.. She can pin Sato or Huckleberry and take my belt.. I feel bad for Huckleberry.. That simple gringo bastard doesn’t know what he’s walking into. Abbigail was trained by me. She’s tag team champs with Sato. he’s the odd man out and in this kind of match, that often spells big trouble.” Samantha nods. “And how do you plan to survive?”
Valora gives her trademark smirk as she glances at the map again. “Strike hard. Strike fast.. First person I see in trouble is getting knocked the fuck out. I’m not ready to give up my belt just yet.”
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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 17:30:34 GMT -5
Written by Valora
Season 2, Episode 1 - Friday Night Clash 8: Abbigail meets with an old friend
Crowley Estate, London, United Kingdom:
The taxi pulled up to a stop at the gates outside the mansion and the driver looked back at his passenger, one Abbigail Dresden. “Y...you sure this is the place you’re goin, lass?” Abbigail smirked a bit and nodded. “Is there a problem?” The cabbie looked to the mansion and back to his passenger and Abbigail could see the inner conflict in the man. Centuries of rigidly enforced class rules and mores battling with the reputation of the family who owned the mansion. Eventually, the man decided discretion was the better part of valor and shook his head. “No, it..it ain’t my place to gossip about the nobility… but you’ll have to walk up to the house. Not enough quid in the whole bloody isle to convince me to set foot on that ground.” Abbigail smirked and nodded. “No worries.” She said as she paid the man and got out of the driver before walking up to the gate and pressing the button. After a few seconds, the speaker clicked to life and the voice of one of the servants responded. Abbigail leaned closer to the speaker. “Abbigail Dresden, here to see Rosalyn Crowley.” The servants voice responded quickly with a firm. “Americans… no bloody respect.. Who are you here to see?!” Abbigail rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. “Her Ladyship, Rosalyn Crowley… who, by the by, hates the use of her formal titles.” This time Rosalyn herself answered. “True, but one must keep the hired help in line.. And I do so enjoy having a bit of fun with visitors.. Most don’t have the spine to come knocking on my door…”
The gate opened and Abbigail walked up towards the mansion.. About 3 or 4 minutes later, she arrived to find Rosalyn leaning on her cane, waiting for her with an bemused expression on her face. “You know, we have these wonderful inventions.. The automated carriage, more commonly known as the automobile or ‘car.’ You can even rent them now.” Abbigail nods. “Yeah, but you people drive on the wrong side of the road.” Rosalyn nodded. “My country has existed for milenia.. We gave birth to your country and thus, our way is the proper way and the fault lies with you for not knowing which side of the road to drive on.” The women stared at each other for a long moment before both laughed and hugged each other. After the hug, Rosalyn looked Abbigail over and nodded. “Well you look better than I thought you would, considering you foolishly invaded North Korea for reasons passing understanding.” Abbigail shrugged. “I didn’t have a choice.. Surely you heard the news.. I apparently am a major drug dealer. And before you call my country fools and idiots for the government they elected.. Your country is on the verge of leaving the EU.” Rosalyn rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me.. This is what happens when you let peasants run the government...I used to think they could be trusted, but damned if Druscilla wasn’t proven right.” The two women walked into the house and as they walked, Abbigail glanced at Rosalyn’s right leg, around the knee area. “Still can’t heal it?” Rosalyn, sweat already beginning to bead on her forehead from the effort of merely standing and walking shook her head. “You know better, Abbigail.. “ Abbigail shrugged. “No.. what I know is that you’ve said it can’t be healed. You’ve kept details to yourself.”
Roslayn and Abbigail entered the main study and take a seat as Rosalyn leans back and regards Abbigail for a moment. “Yes, well human nature does tend to push one to try and avoid talking about one’s setbacks.” Abbigail nods. “Call it morbid curiosity since it is an important detail of my friend’s life I find myself curious about.” Rosalyn thinks for a moment and sighs, nodding. “Perhaps later, I believe we have more important things to discuss at the moment.” Abbigail shifts in her seat a bit before settling in, regarding her friend and ally for a long moment before nodding. “I appreciate your help.. I know I didn’t give you much to go on.” Rosalyn smirks, glancing back over her shoulder to one of the servants in the house and gestures for her to come in. The woman entered the room with a tray containing tea, pouring a cup for Rosalyn, making it the way she likes and Rosalyn looks at Abbigail. “Tea?” Abbigail smirks. “It would rude to say no, right?” Rosalyn let out a small laugh. “In my experience, most Americans are not stopped by the fear of being rude.” Abbigail smirks as the maid comes over and pours a cup of tea for Abbigail as well, before heading out of the room. Abbigail looks at Rosalyn and nods. “So.. as I said, I know I didn’t give you much to go on, and I wish I had more resources but…” Rosalyn nods. “You might find yourself in possession of more means and resources than you think. I have a bit more digging to do to uncover who your birth parents are and why they left you with your adopted father in Chicago… but suffice to say, Dresden might be the family name of the man that took you in, but I do not believe you are his blood.”
Abbigail let this sink in for a few moments and then tilts her head. “Tell me you didn’t actually ask him.” Rosalyn laughed and shook her head. “As if I would do something so mundane. Given your….talents, there’s a very select group of people who could have been your parents. I started looking through my own family’s notes and books as to people known to have the gift. I’m still technically researching and sorting down the list, but I do have a couple of strong possibilities as to who you might be descended from.” Abbigail takes another sip of her tea and nods. “Well, obviously seems like you need more time, but can I hear some of the options?” Rosalyn sips her tea, considering and nods. “My current favorite for your family is the Bishops.. The family has a long history, in the Colonies, their story is centered around Boston and Salem. Sarah Bishop was actually one of the first ‘witches’ executed in the Salem Witch Trials. I think there are strong ties there for you, but the main hole is I can’t explain why they would have abandoned you, and why they would have left you in Chicago of all places. Outside of them, there are a few more families you could be connected to though before we continue to discuss options, I have to ask.. I’m no big fan of your adopted father, but you’ve always taken pride in being a Dresden.. Why the curiosity now?”
Abbigail shrugged. “My mentor.. Valora’s been training me, helping me. I found out before the world did what she… used to do.. I expressed interest in that work and between that and some of the weird stuff going on, I wanted as many tools as possible. She told me that I needed to know myself and I got to thinking.. Now was as good a time as any to start asking questions and tracking down answers.” Rosalyn nods. “I have a few questions as well. For starters… and before I get to the real questions, aren’t you supposed to be training or something? Why aren’t you with Valora?” Abbigail sighs and rolls her eyes.. “Because both of us are in the same match.. I’m one of 3 people she has to fight for the title.. And she doesn’t have champions advantage. She doesn’t have to be the one that loses. I offered to help her retain the belt and she went on about how rare title shots are and how I need to seize the chance and how she expected me to want the title.. Then she said I needed to find the proper mindset and she wanted me to train for this fight on my own, make my own gameplan.. I get the feeling she plans to use this match as a evaluation or something, see how much I’ve learned.” Rosalyn nods. “Which brings me to my next question.. Why come here instead of training?” Abbigail shrugged. “Well, I’m in a ring with 3 other top level competitors, one of whom is my mentor, the other is my tag team partner. For another, I have been training and plan to resume training.. And I wanted to see if you had learned anything and check in.” Rosalyn was again silent for a long moment, considering the words of Abbigail and nods. “Perhaps I’ll buy a ticket and see the fight in person.. Will give us a chance to continue our conversations and I can see how your training is progressing.” Abbigail lets out a laugh. ‘Great.. Nothing better than losing a big match except losing a big match while friends are watching.” Rosalyn laughed a bit and nodded. “You could have more confidence in yourself.” Abbigail nods. “Really? I’m going to be locked in a steel cage with 3 other people. One of whom is my mentor and has been training me and is also undefeated thus far in UOW. One is my tag team partner and an amazingly skilled martial artist. The third may not look like much at first glance, but has proven himself to be a very skilled fighter too. It’s not a one on one match where the odds are better, this is first one to get a pinfall or submission walks out champion.”
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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 17:31:40 GMT -5
Written by Vastrix
Fired
A balcony at the Warhammer Corporate headquarters outside of Hong Kong. “God’s Gift” Jeremiah Vastrix stands with his hands on the railing as he looks over the South China Sea.
His advisers, his girlfriend, and even his mother have advised that he quit wrestling and focus on the running of the company. Except for the fact that wrestling is his passion. It always has been.
Vastrix listens as he hears footsteps behind him. The analytical software in his his working out who this could be. He smiles to himself.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: Anderson. Finally, you make your way to me.
Allen Anderson walks over to stand next to Jeremiah Vastrix with a smirk as if he knows he were the smartest person around. A ghost of a sneer can be seen on Jeremiah’s face, but it’s gone as soon as it arrives.
ALLEN ANDERSON: How did the meeting go? Are all the divisions going to work for the better good instead of the almighty dollar?
Jeremiah just shrugs a little.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: There was protesting, but they all agreed to the new plans with provisions. We will be helping people, but at a price. We will be working toward having key influence in the nations that we help. Like the United States and North Korea will be wanting use of our radiation reducing technology to make the areas irradiated by the missiles habitable once again.
ALLEN ANDERSON: I hear there’s talks of making what’s left of North Korea into a wholly owned corporate property of Warhammer with all civilians becoming employees. You think they will stand for it?
Jeremiah smiles as he takes out a cigarette from a pack on the inside of his business jacket. A glittering blue laser from his left eye lights the cigarette and Jeremiah takes a nice long drag before responding, blowing smoke into the night sky.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: They will have even more freedoms under Warhammer Asia than they ever had under the old regime. The fact remains the nation is broken from the United States counterattack. We will rebuild it to be stronger than ever and be the most advanced nation on the entire planet.
ALLEN ANDERSON: And you intend to continue to wrestle?
Jeremiah’s cybernetic eyes both glitter blue for a moment to express Jeremiah’s excitement.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: Oh yes! In fact, we have a show coming up. I face Kronin in the ring. The German Suplex Machine doesn’t stand a chance against the new capabilities of the hardware I have in my skull. They decided to upgrade me while they were rebuilding me from the damage done by Belial and Takuma Sato.
Anderson nods, looking over the South China Sea in contemplation.
ALLEN ANDERSON: What if your enemies decide to kill you while you’re in a wrestling match. You don’t have a legal heir.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: Nonsense. I have plenty of heirs! Just none of them actually bear my name.
ALLEN ANDERSON: Bastard children who cannot inherit the company. You should focus on running the company, marrying Olivia, and making inheritable babies.
Jeremiah flicks ashes over side of the railing, he watches as a battleship, the WCS Ravenhead, comes into view on the horizon.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: There will always be people gunning for my head to try to take me down. There is a reason I am staying in UOW beyond the fact that I love wrestling. I can make a difference on a national scale in changing how the Warhammer Corporation is seen. We need to be seen as a force for good rather than corporate greed. I need to show through force of will in my match against Kronin that I represent the new spirit of the company. I need to transform how to public sees us.
Anderson is silent for a long time, clutching to the railing tight.
ALLEN ANDERSON: Will you change places like Desolation? Twilight?
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: I can’t gut the company overnight and transform it, but one day these places of darkness will be shut down forever. There’s one more thing I can do now to remove an evil from the company.
ALLEN ANDERSON: Oh? What is that, pray tell?
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: You’re fired.
Anderson releases the railing, turning to face Jeremiah totally. He looks amused, but that changes to anger when he realizes that Jeremiah isn’t kidding.
ALLEN ANDERSON: You think removing me will help change things?
Jeremiah flicks his cigarette butt over the railing, turning to face Anderson.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: I know removing you will change things. You are the reason millions have died. You are the reason that millions have vanished to never be seen again. Though we both know that they have turned up in Desolation where they worked in the most dangerous workplace environment in the world. Poisoned by the air, the water, and the earth even if they aren’t killed in a workplace accident or violence. You have negotiated more arms deals to keep warlords in control around the world than any other Warhammer associate.
Jeremiah motions to the South China Sea with a grand gesture.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: I would bet the entire sea could be replaced by the innocent blood spilled on your watch. No more. You are fired!
Anderson’s eyes narrow as he regards Jeremiah with a hateful sneer.
ALLEN ANDERSON: I have been the most valued employee of the real Warhammer Corporation. You know how many employees died at my hand or were sent to the Akira Dome to fight to the death on my rise to stand next to your father? More than you can imagine, boy. You cry about the number of innocents sent to Desolation, but they are people displaced by natural disasters and wars. People who would have died anyway. I gave them purpose!
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: If we would have spent our time and money on ways to prevent these wars, prevent damage from natural disasters, and helped with shelters they would not have died!
Anderson shakes his head. The altruistic ways of Jeremiah Vastrix were not going to last long. The spirit of the Warhammer Corporation cannot be so easily swayed.
ALLEN ANDERSON: I’m going to clear out my desk. You will regret this action, Jeremiah…
Anderson turns and walks away…
ALLEN ANDERSON: I hope Kronin kicks your ass!
Jeremiah watches until Anderson is out of sight, lighting up a fresh cigarette.
JEREMIAH VASTRIX: I bet you’re not the only one.
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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 17:33:03 GMT -5
Written by Kronin
Debrief and Regrouping: UOW Friday Night Clash 8:
A hospital, somewhere in Germany:
Kronin lies in his hospital bed, glancing out the window for a moment, his body hooked up to a variety of machines all monitoring his vitals. Kara sits to one side of him, her eyes focused on the two other people in the room. Lilly is sitting outside the room. The two people look at her, than at each other and finally to Kronin before one of them speaks. “We’ll sorry we had to ask her to leave, but her past is making it.. Difficult for her to get the proper clearances. Also, the less she knows, the less likely she is to be targeted.” Kronin nods. “I’m pretty sure she’s used to it by now and has shown no inclination to want to try and get on the allowed lists.” The first official looks at the monitors keeping track of Kronin’s vitals and then looks back at Kronin. “They still haven’t found a cure?” Kara answers the question. “You should know better than us. I know both the Americans and us are working on it.” The second official shakes his head. “We don’t know how much longer that will be true. The American CDC is facing more crackdowns from the McStrump regime, since this disease afflicts only 2 people on Earth at the moment and that only 1 of those is American, the doctors there aren’t sure how much longer they’ll be able to work on a solution.” Kronin reacts and the man holds up his hand. “If we cure it, we will, obviously make the cure available to the Americans to treat Mr. Huckleberry with.”
The two officials think for a moment and nod, before the lead one clears his throat. “We are beginning to think assigning someone else might be a better option. We almost lost you in Korea. You need time to recover from whatever they injected you with.” The other official nods. “And your win-loss record isn’t what it was expected to be. You’re almost 40 years old.. It’s not viable for you to continue on as a professional fighter much longer.” Kronin laughs. “So you want me to stop because, in order, I’m wounded, I failed my mission by getting infected with mystery poison, I’m washed up because I am, in fact, too old for this shit? That about cover it?” The official begins to talk but Kronin cuts him off. “I’m sorry, I must have misunderstood my mission. I thought you wanted me to assess the political and socio-economic situation within the U.S. generally as well evaluate things like support for McStrump, and other factors. A professional fighter presented a good cover. Thus I understood my mission to be gather intel and assess the situation, not win titles and the like. If you want me to win more, just say so.”
The two officials looked at each other for a moment and the secondary officer spoke first this time, “Do you have a report to give us?” Kronin nodded and started to reply when a violent fit of coughing interrupts him and he looks to Kara who steps forward and answers for her brother, displaying the weird inexplicable connection twins seem to have “Well, you might want to know we’re not the only ones taking action.” The officials both nod, one of them speaking. “Yes, we always suspected Salinas was a terrorist, nice to have confirmation of that.” Kara rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t say terrorist so much as covert op. You saw the footage of the Battle in North Korea, yes?” The two officials both nod and Kara nods as well. “She was either trained by MOSSAD the organization or a former agent from them.” The lead official nods. “It’s going to be hard.. So many MOSSAD agents become mercenaries when they leave the service and we are assuming Valora is not Jewish? She is Mexican and they tends towards Roman Catholicism.” Kronin’s coughing fits passes for the moment and he nods. “Valora isn’t big on religion so yes, we can assume she was trained by Ex-MOSSAD mercenary types. But she is and has been using her skills to help us.. Matter of fact, McStrump actually helped us there, by specifically targeting Hispanics in general and Mexicans in particular, he made an enemy of Valora.”
The second agent held up his hand and nodded. “She’s been to Germany before. She’s competed here and throughout the EU. In light of certain theories about her being confirmed INTERPOL and a number of European governments would like to see how many unsolved crimes she might be responsible for.. Or if her knowledge can help us find answers.” Kronin laughs a bit as he shakes her head. “That’s a tough sell. She will at the very least demand immunity from prosecution, but you might have a way to get what you want.. The proposal needs to come from someone she trusts, though.” The first agent nods, casting a glance at Lilly outside the room. “That’s why we want you to make the approach. We know she’ll have demands, but we have leverage too.. She’s on the run, with no support. We might be able to help her.. She knows you.. If she doesn’t trust you, she at least seems to accept the fact that you are an honorable individual and you have a history of being able to rehabilitate criminals.” Kronin narrows his eyes, glancing to Lilly. “My wife being Romany doesn’t automatically make her a criminal.” The second agent shakes his head. “No, her record of criminal behaviour and history of anarchistic sympathies makes her one. However, we aren’t here to argue about your wife. What is your take on the situation with Valora Salinas?”
Kronin clears his throat. “Well.. I think we’re all pretty sure ‘Valora’ is not her true name. Salinas is a common surname amongst Hispanic individuals. In other words, separating the truth about who Valora really is and what she really is from the legend she has constructed and wants us to believe is.. Difficult. Valora used to be motivated by money, by glory, by fame and all that. Now, she has something that makes her potentially the most dangerous person in the world. She has a purpose. A cause to fight for. She just lost her hometown. Los Angeles. She will focus on the 2 cities she failed to protect rather than the 4 she did. Valora relies on rage, loss and tragedy to fuel her and she just had her tanks refueled for some time to come. I can guarantee you, she’s off planning her response. If we can ally with her, I believe we should.”
The two agents considered this for a moment and the lead agent walked towards the window, looking out before turning and looking at Kronin. “What do you believe she would want?” Kronin thought for a second, mentally going over everything he knew about Valora. Finally, he nodded. “I believe the answer to that depends on what you want from her. She is already working as an ally of mine. If you want her to actually join Interpol, or us or something… or if you want information..don’t expect to get it for free. I’ll talk to her about it and see what options we have.” At that moment the door opens and Lilly walks in, “Just got a text about your next match.. Submission match vs. Vastrix.” The two agents look at each other and then look at Kronin. “Continue to fight for now, but make plans for a replacement if needed. Either someone that can be introduced as a protege of yours, or an ally we can work with.. We’re not saying you need to win every fight. Or win the title.. But you need to find a way to win more than you currently are.” Kronin nods and sits up a bit. “Fine… I’ll start looking at options for a contingency if my win loss record stays poor.”
The two agents nod, say their goodbyes and leave the room. Lilly looks at Kronin and sighs. “So they’re upset you’re not winning enough?” Kronin shrugs. “It’s a valid criticism. I haven’t focused on winning matches. I’ve focused on competing. I’ve focused on the mission. Maybe it’s time to try to focus a bit more on winning than I have been… and contingency plans never hurt anyone. However, now I have an interesting challenge.” Kara nods. “You have to figure out a way to make a cyborg tap out.” Kronin nods. “Exactly.” Lilly shrugs. “Well you’re like German James Bond.. don’t you have an emp thing or something?” Kronin laughs a bit. “In a word? Probably not.” Lilly nods. “That was two words.” Kronin nods. “Thank you. Bottom line is I don’t think we have anything like that and if we did we certainly don’t have one small enough to only damage Vastrix and no one else. Also.. an EMP might kill him, and I don’t want to do that. No, I’ll take him on, man vs. machine and we’ll see which is better.”
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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 17:34:04 GMT -5
Written by MoonChild
The Strings of Fate and Fortune: Ch. 12 - Epilogue
Season - 2
Takuma Sato is a fighter on the Ultimate Wrestling roster and a trained martial artist. When he wields his chakra powered heart punch, he is the most dangerous man in professional wrestling. Recently Sato had been taken captive by the North Koreans along his fellow roster mates. They had been forced to put on a show there by their Employer Rupert Mudcock and the U.S. President Ronald McStrump in order to gather intelligence on their Nuclear Missile program. The roster was then forced to fight in a barbaric Death Sport Tournament held in the honor of Emperor Kim Jung-Un. Many of the wrestlers on the roster were killed, but Sato and five others survived after escaping with a few of the commentators and announcers. Sato now returns home to American soil for the first time since leaving…
The wheels of their airplane touched down on the wet pavement of Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport in D.C. As the airplane decelerated on the bumpy runway a great sigh of relief came over the surviving Ultimate Wrestling roster and staff. After having survived the “North Korean Crisis” and having spent a week in a Chinese hospital they were all happy to be home on American soil. Sato stared out his passenger side window lost in thought as the rest of the roster eagerly gathered what little belongings they had and began to file a queue at the exit door of the plane. Sato slowly got up from his seat when the door was actually opened and was next to Kronin as the group exited the plane and made their way down a metal staircase.
The roster and remaining staff was engulfed by a sea of news reporters bombarding them with questions and snapping pictures. Some U.S. Government agents however cleared them all out of the way before Valora lost her temper. After a long 24 hour debriefing that involved President McStrump himself and a slew of special federal agents, the group was finally released from Airport security back into the civilian population. As Sato made his way out of the airport exit he spotted his girlfriend Amber and his manager Ivan waiting for him by the doors. Amber ran toward him and jumped up into Sato’s arms and immediately kissed him on the lips while crying tears of happiness. After exchanging some hugs the three of them made their way into Ivan’s rental and began to drive away from airport.
Ivan: Where to first buddy? Anywhere you want to go, you name it.
Takuma: I need a hamburger… a greasy one.
Amber: Alright, Burger Palace it is then!
Takuma: You guys can’t even begin to understand how awful the food they fed us in North Korea was. I tried to eat as little of it as I could, but I needed to keep my strength up. They were growing their food with human fertilizer and you could taste it…
Amber: Oh my God baby that sounds awful…
Ivan: Come on man… were going to go eat, don’t make me nauseous!
Takuma: I thought the food in American prison was bad… it’s almost like I can’t get the taste out of my mouth from that slop they fed us…
Ivan: Don’t worry brother, A couple of greasy Palace burgers with extra cheese should fix yeah right up.
Ivan pulled into the drive through and ordered a bunch of burgers for them as Amber tried to keep Takuma talking and not let him slip back into deep thought like he’d had a few times on their way there. After finishing his food Sato sat back in the rear car seat trying to process everything that had transpired and attempted to try and decompress. Ivan threw the rental into gear and drove away from the burger Palace parking lot back onto the highway.
Sato: Ivan, how is my mother doing? I’m sure she’s been losing her shit this whole time…
Ivan: Well… I wanted to wait to tell you this later but...
Sato: Tell me what?
Amber: Honey your mom left…
Sato: What do you mean she left?
Ivan: When you were imprisoned your mother went crazy. I tried to explain to her that you were being framed, but she wouldn’t listen me. On top of all that the Government froze your funds. She wasn’t able to make the payments on the house you guy’s owed all that money on.
Sato: You can’t be serious…
Amber: She left you a note... apparently she went back to Japan… I’m so sorry Takuma…
Sato: Did she even leave an address or contact number? How the hell am I supposed to find her?
Ivan: We searched the whole damn house dude, but we couldn’t find anything. We we’re hoping you might have idea where she went.
Sato: No… no clue… I’ve never been to Japan, and I don’t know any of my relatives…
Amber: Wow… I didn’t know…
Sato: They never talked much about the old country and they never shared much about what their lives there were like when they living in Japan. What’s happening with the house then?
Ivan: It’s foreclosed I’m afraid. It’s supposed to be going up for auction in a few months…
Amber: Takuma, with your funds unfrozen and the money your set make during the next few shows you might able to buy the property out right. If you want too… I know there are a lot of ghosts in that house for you now…
Sato let out a sigh and shook his head before palming his face in frustration with both of his hands. The entire past year he’d been fighting for his mother to able to keep her home and so that they could pay off their debt. Now she’d abandoned their home and her only Son out of shame. Sato lifted his head and stared out the passenger side window of the car as a tear rolled down his right cheek.
Sato: Yeah… I don’t really know what I want anymore… let’s just go to the hotel. I’ve got a lot to think about.
A half hour later Sato and Amber had checked into their room at the hotel and had gotten into bed. The two had curled up together against the headboard together with Sato laying his head on her left shoulder. Amber was smoking and cigarette and trying to be a good listener for her partner as he rambled incoherently about what had transpired in North Korea.
Sato: I didn’t want to do it, but I had no choice… They had us at gun point… now I have all this blood on my hands. I feel so bad for the Couch family, I don’t even know what the Government has told them, but I’m sure they’ve seen the footage online.
Amber: It’s not your fault Takuma, you didn’t have a choice. You’re lucky to be alive. You did what you had to do to survive. I for one am glad that you did, because I couldn’t imagine what my life would be like without you. My life was train wreck before you saved me… I love you so much you know that right?
Sato: I… I love you too…
Amber: I think you need some sort of the closure… maybe therapy would help?
Sato: I was told by some of the others that Mudcock hired a Dr. Drake to help us work through our traumas… but I was thinking maybe paying a visit to Couch’s X-Wife and little girl and apologizing might help…
Amber: I… I don’t know if that’s a good idea babe. Their probably heavy with grief right now and going through a lot. There not in the right frame of mind to handle an apology from the man that was forced to kill their loved one.
Sato: I just… I feel like I owe it to Dwight…
Amber: I still don’t think it’s a good idea… at least not right now… I’d give it some time.
Sato: I just can’t believe I’m here with you right now, after everything that happened before I left with getting put in prison. It was crazy… I didn’t think I was ever going to get out alive. Someone hired someone to have me killed when I was jail in Texas. Some skin head tried to shank me and I barely got out of there alive. If it wasn’t for those weird Rebels of Society guy’s I probably wouldn’t have even gotten to North Korea.
Amber: Wait, you mean the same guy’s from the Rasputin Bar and Grill you told me about last month?
Sato: Yeah… I kind of agreed to join them whatever that means… I’m sure they’ll turn up eventually… they always seem come out of hiding when I need them the most.
Amber: You did what? You have to be joking… what if their like a cult or a terrorist organization?
Sato: I needed their protection. What else was I supposed to do? People were gunning for me while I was in there. Apparently I’ve angered enough rich assholes to make myself a target. I must have made some really bad people angry when I went off on that rant at Brawl at the Wall last year.
Amber: Just be careful okay? I just finally got you back… I don’t want to lose you to some gang of angry misfits.
Sato: Hate to break it to you, but we are misfits.
Amber let out a giggle finding Takuma’s dark dry sense of humor funny and pushed Sato playfully in response to it. Sato sat up and began kissing Amber passionately and she quickly reached out and put her cigarette out on the ash tray on the nightstand next to the bed. The two continued to make out only stopping to rip each other’s clothes off. They would end the night making the kind of hot passionate love only couples make when they’ve been apart for a long period of time.
The next morning Sato awoke in bed with the sun beaming sunlight into the room through the gap in the hotel curtains. After gathering his thoughts, Sato got out of bed carefully making sure not to wake Amber up who was still in a deep slumber. The martial artist got dressed and threw on his navy bomber jacket before opening his hotel door and stepping outside to a crisp cold D.C. late January morning. He took a deep breath drawing in the cold air before exhaling his breath visibly into the air. Suddenly his smart phone rang in his jacket pocket. He pulled out the phone and saw that it was Ivan calling him most likely from his own hotel room.
Sato: Yo… what’s up?
Ivan: Hey man sorry if I’m waking you up.
Sato: Nah, your good man. I woke up like twenty minutes ago. What’s going on?
Ivan: Looks like Rupert isn’t wasting any time now that you all are back from North Korea. He’s already booked you with the other three finalist from the Death Sport tournament in a Cell match at Madison Square Garden for Valora’s Franchise Title.
Sato: I’m not surprised… all that fat fucking old bastard cares about is making money…
Ivan: Well this might surprise you then. Apparently he’s giving away fifty percent of all of the gross earnings Ultimate Wrestling has this year to the survivors of the Missile attack.
Sato: No shit! That is surprising… and really not like him. Maybe he’s blaming himself for this disaster, but I guess there’s an enough blame to go around for everyone that was involved…
Ivan: I think it’s a PR stunt if you ask me. Word has it old Rupert’s getting sued from every direction right now. Any philanthropy and charity he participates in will make him look better to the media and to whatever judge he ends up in front of.
Sato: Makes sense… self-preservation…
Ivan: Listen I know you’re still pulling yourself together, but this is a big opportunity for you. A win in this kind of match, with this kind of prize purse would solve a lot of your problems.
Sato: Yeah don’t worry Ivan. I promise you that I’m going go into this match with everything I got. I know what to expect from Valora and Abbigail. I know them now pretty well, and I’ve seen where their weak points are at. This Huckleberry guy though is a real wild card…
Ivan: Uh yeah... wild card is being generous. More like a complete imbecile with possibly Mr. Magoo like dumb luck!
Sato: Ha… haha oh man, that was a good one. Honestly though he’s a decent competitor. Not well trained, but dangerous if you under estimate him.
Ivan: Well I just wanted to give you the update so you can get mentally prepared. I know you’ve gotten close with Dresden and Salinas over the weeks, but this is important.
Sato: I hear you. Look I got to go, I think Amber is waking up and I want get some breakfast.
Ivan: Alright man. I’ll see you in New York.
Takuma hung up his phone and walked over the edge of the railing and looked out at the parking lot once again lost deep in thought. He knew that the coming days would be filled with insanity, Instagram photo requests, and reporters wanting interviews. He’d caught a little bit of the nightly news and it was clear that the surviving members of the roster were now considered hero’s amongst most of the American public. A huge difference from most of them had been accustomed to all last season. Perhaps this tragedy that the U.S. had suffered as a nation had united people and forced them to mature and to grow as a society…
Sato shook his head for even considering the thought.
Sato: It’s only a matter of time…
To be continued…
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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 17:36:08 GMT -5
Written by CreativeTruth
A Few Painted Words and Advice for my Opponents
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!
Standing with a microphone underneath his signature mustache, Huckleberry's jaw circles around like a cow chewing cud. He is standing backstage outside the locker room area at a house show where new UOW wrestlers are testing out their skills to prove that they can become the next superstars of tomorrow.
Nearby a spittoon chimes as he spits a stream of black spittle its way. The interviewer beside him, the American Beauty Queen Rose Johnston, jumps by the surprise of the garish and rude display, then quickly shows off her pearly whites. Using her Texas charm, she opens the segment with a standard introduction as soon as the commercial break ends.
Rose Johnston: Welcome back. I'm Rose Johnston backstage with Huckleberry, a rising star here in UOW. After his recent wins in Korea, if you can call it that... more like survival if you ask me, Huckleberry has been granted an opportunity to face the three other top winners of the Korean Death Sport tournament. Those competitors will be Valora Salinas, Takuma Sato, and Abbigail Dresden in a four-way Hell-In-A-Cell Match. Tell me, Huckleberry... you're going to be trapped inside cell with these three individuals, all of them allegedly better trained and physically superior to yourself, so how do you reckon you'll do?
Huckleberry: Well I reckon I it'll be a helluva match. You know, each of us had to actually kill somebody get this far, by facing of in a Korean kill-or-be-killed death match. The only reason I ain't behind bars again, I reckon is 'cuz ever'body we killed all them sorry-excuses-for-a-Bond-villains out of pure self-defense, so help me God!
Spa-KOON!
Once again, The Huckster, earning his namesake hucks another spit-ball dead-on-target into the brass spittoon.
Huckleberry: Don't do drugs kids! They made me go cold turkey while I was in Korea, and let me tell ya something, it was a living hell. I'd almost rather step int'a the ring with that human dump-truck, Kronin, but ain't never wanna live through the hell of going cold turkey again. That's why I switched'ta chewin' tobackey. Helps me tuh kick the smokin' habit. By the way, that man Kronin throws punches like a freight train. He knows how to make an impression, if you know what I mean. Vastrix might be the bionic six million dollar man, but listen to me... even with a metal plate in the skull, a DDT from a monster like Kronin leads to permanent brain damage. I would know!
Rose Johnston: My condolences Huckleberry. Would you mind addressing your fellow competitors Huck? I think we got a bit side-tracked. Why do you think you might have the upper hand in this Hell-In-A-Cell match.
Huckleberry scratches his head, and scrunches his left eye to look at Rose more keenly.
Huckleberry: Hold onta yer horses little lady. I got a question for you Lil' Rosey. Didn'tcha get pumped full of lead by those men in black just before we got hijacked and taken to North Korea?
Rose Johnston: (Giggling) No, you silly goose. I'm fine! See? You must have me mistaken for someone else. The former Vice President of UOW perhaps? Now, can we please get back to the original question. Your match?
Huckleberry: Alright, if you say so. Damn, I really did get hit hard in the head.
After shaking the cobwebs out, the mullet-rocking runt with a rat-tail pantomimes his feelings about the upcoming match with a few odd gestures. First he pouts his lips and furrows his brow as he clenches a fist. Then he puts his hand to his forehead and circles his lips. Finally he pats a fist to his chest and stretches his lower lip and exaggerates his under-bite to expose his few remaining lower teeth.
Huckleberry: Ooooooooh! Hell-In-A-Cell. All furr of us lived the cell-block blues for many nights. Sometimes in isolation. Sometimes undergoing painful torture. Sometimes endearing public humiliation so deeply psychotic, we still wake up in a sweat at night reliving the nightmares. Compared to that, this match is going to be little more than a victory lap for us to jog through. Valora and Sato, yer right... they got skills. Once, I saw Valora lift a ninja man twice her size and slam him like he was a rag-doll. And Sato, one time I saw him knock out a guard cold with a single quick peck of his finger. I almost had to change my under-pants after I saw that happen. And Abbigail, she ain't one to be trifled with neither. That one can hold her own during a prison break surrounded by guards, and she don't know the meaning of quittin' time when the bell rings. But let me tell you something sister! I gots me a few tricks up my sleeve!
At this, Huckleberry turns his body to reveal his other arm he had been concealing all this time. The entire forearm and fist is swollen to nearly three-times its size. Rose Johnston swoons, and collapse to the floor. Huck grabs the mic from her with his good hand, and is able to shape his swollen hand to point his finger directly at the camera in a manacling manner.
Huckleberry: My Daddy, God-Rest-His-Soul, had to be buried three times! Three times I wept for my Daddy. Once when we went deer huntin', and the shot ricoshay'd offa the truck, and got him in the gut. The man stood up during the wake, and headed for the buffet he was so damn hungry. The second time, Daddy lost control of the skunk-a-pult, and it yank'd him by the heel and threw him a hunderd yards into the neighburs barn. Momma was already shovelin' dirt on his coffin when he sat up started hollerin' about how broke his legs were. It took three of us to restrain Momma after she hit him on the head with the shovel. After escaping death twice, my daddy told me the secret to long life. "Blood is thicker than water, Son," he said. And just like that, my daddy died of a heart attack. 35 years of nothin' but the best beer, bacon, and baby-makin'll do that to a man. So I spent the rest of my life dedicating myself to the art of masterin' my own sacred Appalachian Inbred bloodline.
With his enlarged hand, Huckleberry makes the sign of the cross to honor his dearly departed dad. He then looks up again, and opens his palm.
Huckleberry: See dis right here? It don't bother me. One of those mad Korean witch doctors told me the poison they injected me with came from a horse whose DNA they cross-bred with a cobra. It's true! But I've been through worse. Muuuuuch worse! As an alter boy in church, we used ta say our prayers, sing in tongues, and let snakes bite our wrists. "If ya have the faith in God, the blood of Jeeeeezzus will keep ya alive forever", the preacher used'ta say. "And if ya doesn't, ya die!" And that ain't all. Yuh remember that gator fight I had. What, was it 800 pounds of snapping teeth and scales? I can't even bench-press 200 pounds, but when that green demon came at me that night, I swear the Holy Spirit filled me with his awesome sauce, because something inside me gave me the strength to lift it off of me to escape it's maw when he was trying like hell to swallow my noggin whole!
Again Huckleberry pantomimes the alligator mouth by exaggerating the scene with his hands and arms, acting out the teeth by sliding his slender fingers through the fattened ones.
Huckleberry: Look... all four of us suffered like Hell in Korea. I know! But I'm warning them, they're going to have to throw everything at me, including the bathroom sink if they expect me tuh lay down give up. Unless the ref says I haft-tuh, I play by my own rules, and the rules I follow... I ain't got any! Maybe I'll bite. I'll scratch. Maybe I'll poke someone's eye out. Daddy taught me how to do that. We used'ta practice on possums to find out if they were playing dead or not. They better be ready for anything, because I'm as unpredictable as they come, and I ain't got a bone in my body that isn't already crying out in pain every day when I wake up, so what good is a few more broken bones going to do against me in a match?
Another person arrives on the scene, this time it's Holly Hudson, the edgy little UOW staffer. She sports her retro cropped leather jacket with on pin on the front that says "I got straight A's in High School". On the back of the jacket it reads, "A is for Attitude!" With her own microphone in hand, she takes over the interview momentarily.
Holly Hudson: Sorry to cut you off, Huckleberry, but we have to cut to a quick commercial break, but I was wondering if--
Huckleberry: But, but, but... spit out out Missy! You wanna see what they did to my butt in Korea. You don't hafta ask twice.
The hillbilly wrestler begins peeling back the tights, and Holly vehemently throws her hands up and her drops her jaw in disgust.
Holly Hudson: Uh... no. Ew! I was just wondering if we could continue this interview later by having you answer some questions posed to you by some of our UOW fans on Twitter? Would that be alright?
Huckleberry: Twitter? What thu... we got birds askin' me questions?
Holly Hudson: Damn, you really are a dumbass. Hold tight fans! I'll try to explain to Huckleberry what Twitter is during the commercial break, and then we'll be right back.
Spa-KOON!
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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 17:38:12 GMT -5
Written by CreativeTruth
What the Tweet Just Happened?
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!
Holly Hudson: Welcome back to Ultimate Wrestling for a bonus backstage interview for our fans to interact live with one of the UOW top-four Korean Deathsport Tournament champions, Mr. Huckleberry himself. Our Twitter feed has blown up with all kinds of interesting questions. Here is our first question up on the screen. Care to answer for us Huck?
What varieties of roadkill have you eaten? Do you like it? -@girlpowerrulz
Huckleberry: Roadkill? I've had armadillo. I've had rabbit. Squirrel ain't bad. Skunk. Coyote. Deer. As for birds, I've had crow, owl, vulture, stork, and flamingo. Reptiles and amphibians, I've had the standards. Rattlesnake, iguana, turtle, toad, frog, and salamander. Only rule with roadkill is, if it's fresh, let it rest. Usually I pan-sear it, but sometimes I barbecue it, or boil it. The best is sun-ripened though. Now that's good eatin'!
Holly Hudson: Ew... gross.
Huckleberry: Yer missin' out, Hollywood. Don't diss it, 'less you've dun it.
Holly Hudson: Okay, whatever. Next question....
There is a reddit page gaining traction with people claiming that you are really a secret agent spy, and not really the hillbilly wrestler you are claiming to be. Nobody believes your fake @$$ accent. What other secrets are you hiding? @qanonmasterpiece
Huckleberry: Accent? What accent? Momma taught me the good Lord's speech, Georgia Drawl. As for the rest, that's fiddle faddle fake news. Yo! Q-Ana-Mana-Peas, whatever yer calling yerself, let me the set the record straight. I am exactly who I say I am. If anyone is gonna lay it straight in this business it's me, and that is the biggest secret of all, because let me tell you somethin' I bet you haven't reddit yet... look around! Seattle is bombed to smitherines! Los Angeles, the City of Angels... coincidence?! I think not! If you really believe this was Kim Jung Un's idea to bomb these cities, then you are sorely mistaken. McStrump has been the inside man, all along. I swallowed the red pill in Korea, and they told me everything. Damn Russians are in on it too. They want to start a war with China, and who do you think the good ole USA is going to side with? Oh, and that Russian-McStrump investigation going on? Yeah, that's a farce! Yup, I said it right here. The FBI? They're Russians too. Their all in on it.
With his venom-inflamed arm, The Huckster points to the wall where posters are lined up showing portraits of various UOW superstars on the roster.
Huckleberry: Look around, Q-Banana-Mister-Peace. How many secret agents we got running around here in UOW? Valora, Vastrix, Kronin, Abbigail, Sato? Their all lying bastards! The entire roster is in it. Might as well have named themselves "Red Dog" or "Cobra One". Why the hell do you think they left me drugged up in the van, while Scooby and the Gang ran in and handled that entire messy operation on their own? Don't believe everything you see on TV and read in the paper, kiddos. They are all pawns in this greater game. Kayfabe? Y'all 'ur chasing the wrong end of the yarn, Kiddos. It ain't me ya should be asking 'bout.
Holly Hudson: Um! Huckleberry, I think we should move on to the next question.
Huckleberry: Uh-uh! I ain't finished yet. And don't interrupt me again. Ya see I have a secret informant of my own, and he's been sharing some mighty juicy secrets if I may say so. Aliens? They're real. Livin' and breedin' like crazy in the underground bunk-houses in the hills. You think Kim Kardashian was born dat way? Ha! Geo-engineerin' is goin' on, and changin' all the weather patterns messin' things up around the world. I found out how to listen in on the secret data transmissions. See, them cow farts are screwin' with the atmosphere, but it also allows the shadow governments to communicate their secret plans with one another. 5G Baby! Only ones they can't seem to control who fell off the radar... strangely enough... The Cult of the Blob. Fancy that! Why the hell do you think they targeted their citadel up on Mt. Vernon? Two-and-two is seventy-two. I may be inbred and stupid, but I ain't blind to what's happening.... okay, I'm finished Hollywood. Next question.
Holly Hudson: My next question is actually from my special surprise guest. His name is Dill La'Rosta, of MNN Mainstream News Network. Dill, the mic is yours.
A man in a nicely tailored business suit approaches with his own microphone and camera crew zooming in on both him and Huckleberry. The seasoned journalist proceeds to ask a very long-winded question, with many words that are both confusing and beyond Huckleberry's standard vocabulary range. When he finishes, Huckleberry stands dumbfounded and confused.
Huckleberry: Uhhhh. Translation?
Holly Hudson: Huck, La'Roasta is asking about a woman in Baton Rouge. You are being accused of molesting her $%@ last summer. Are you going to corroborate this? Did you really molest her $%@?
Huckleberry: Oh yeah... I remember her. Big Butch Becky... I'm still trying to forget about that one. Her $%@ was such a hairy mess, I lost my grooming sheers trying to tame that beast down. Her little critter, she insisted I call it Furball, but honestly it only responded when I tickled it and called her Barbara Bush. Damn thing had teeth and claws. I still got the scars to prove it. One night I took that $%@ out in the yard, and beat it down with a sixteen inch salami cuz she was screeching back at me. Damn thing was in heat! I told Becky to get that animal fixed, but she wasn't havin' any of it. She kicked me out the next day after all the weeks I spent training her $%@ some proper obedience to a masculine voice. Becky had an Adam's apple so big---
Dill La'Rosta: That will be quite enough! I expect you'll be hearing from her attorneys soon. We'll see you in court.
Holly Hudson: And there you have it. This is the most turbulent news I have ever uncovered, and you are hearing it live from me, Holly Hudson. I give you the hard honest truth, because I think you, the fans, deserve it. It would seem that all of the heinous allegations have been confirmed. Not only is Huckleberry a violent, woman-hating, violent rapist, but he is also a vulgar, toxic masculine, bigoted, white supremacist, inbred, conspiracy-theorist nut job, not to be trusted. Let me assure you, here in the UOW we do not stand for this, and I am sure that the management here will be taking swift action against Huckleberry. Allow me to be the first to officially ask... Huckleberry, do you plan to resign?
Huckleberry: Rezyne? Wut's that?
Holly Hudson: Are you going to hang up your tights?
Huckleberry: Hang up my tights? Naa, I got a maid for that.
Huckleberry turns around and grabs his pole on the ground with a hobo bag tied up so it hangs from it. He turns back around and waves his engorged arm at the camera. Something hard and heavy inside the bag clubs Holly in the head. She falls over, clearly knocked out from the clumsy blow. Oblivious to the circumstances, Huckleberry saunters down the hall as if nothing bad happened.
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