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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 18:39:50 GMT -5
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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 18:48:25 GMT -5
Written by Rayven
Rayven Attempts a Press Conference
There was a small clamor as a few dozen reporters chatted amongst themselves. There was a podium on a stage in front of the few rows of folding metal chairs the reporters were sitting in, and the backdrop for the stage had a spattering of the UOW logo as well as the logos of some of the UOW’s sponsors. A microphone sat perched on the podium, awaiting a speaker who was not yet present. The gathered reporters seemed to be growing impatient as whoever they were here to see appeared to be running late. Of course, they were all too polite to raise any sort of fuss over the matter beyond their annoyed utterances to each other.
Suddenly, the mood changed as a door to the left of the stage swung open. UOW’s public relations manager stepped through the door first, then motioned to the stage to the person following behind them. A moment later, one half of the UOW Tag Team Champions, Rayven, stepped out through the door. She was wearing a black leather jacket and matching pants that fit her curves just perfectly. She had her Tag Team Championship belt draped over her shoulder as she made her way to the podium. A few anxious reporters began trying to ask questions, but Rayven just held up a finger and shushed them. She shrugged the title from her shoulder and placed it on the podium, carefully arranging the belt around the microphone so that the main plate was facing the crowd squarely. She then dusted some dust from the top of it and leaned forward on her toes to kiss the belt before returning to her natural stance behind the podium.
Rayven:: “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here today…”
She grinned a cheshire cat grin at her comment, but the public relations manager leaned in and whispered to her.
PR:: “You didn’t gather them here. This is your contractually obligated time to talk to the press about your upcoming match?”
Rayven narrowed her eyes at the man who stood a few inches shorter than herself.
Rayven:: “You’re not my supervisor!”
PR:: “Actually, in a way, I-”
Rayven held up a hand to stop him, and then waved him away in dismissal. She then turned back to the gathered crowd of reporters who only seemed to be more annoyed by her antics at this point. She cast her gaze over each of them and finally shrugged.
Rayven:: “Riiiight, so, in order to get paid this week, I have to come out here and talk to all of you and answer all of your questions and...play nice. ahem SO, here I am, and I brought my precious golden child with me. She’s so pretty, don’t you all think?”
Rayven grinned widely again and began to caress the top of her title belt with a hand. A reporter in the front row, having grown far too annoyed with her by now stood up and demanded the microphone from the PR rep.
Reporter 1:: “Rayven, first of all, congratulations on your victory last week and capturing the tag team titles.”
Rayven:: “Well of course we won the titles. I was in the match. Was there really any doubt that the outcome would be anything else?”
Reporter 1:: “Well, it’s just that you haven’t had the best of luck with trying to win Tag Team titles in the past. Your team with Trine Larsen in WWG failed on multiple occasions to win the tag titles.”
Rayven:: “First of all, we don’t speak ill of the dead.”
Reporter 1:: “Trine Larsen isn’t dead?”
Rayven:: “Well she may as well be dead to me. She hasn’t returned my calls in five months. And I’ve called her like two thousand times waiting for her to call me back…”
Reporter 1:: “She’s probably working on getting a restraining order…”
Rayven narrowed her eyes at the reporter and the veins popping out in the side of her neck looked like she would eat the man if she were able to.
Rayven:: “I’m sorry, was there a question in there?”
Reporter 1:: “Given your track record with prior tag team partners, how do you think this team with Evolution will play out? After all, the two of you didn’t exactly pick each other as teammates, you were kind of thrown together by management.”
Rayven clapped her hands together and smiled before leaning forward on a forearm on the podium.
Rayven:: “See? They can be taught. I’d say good question, but it really isn’t. You see, I started to realize what the problem was, why I never won the tag titles with Trine. Or any one else that I chose to try and make that attempt with. It’s because you can’t rely on people. Yep, that’s exactly what it was. I picked Trine and every other partner I ever had because I thought that I could rely on them, and that I could trust them to help me win the titles. But at the end of the day? What happened? I don’t have to tell you, you already know, you already rubbed it in my face before you got around to asking your silly question. So do I think that I can rely on Evolution?”
Rayven shrugged and heaved a heavy sigh directly into the microphone.
Rayven:: “How the hell should I know? I barely know the guy. He’s always being some kind of weird and mysterious backstage and when I try to talk to him, he doesn’t say anything to me. Honestly, with that level of cooperation, I’m surprised we won these titles, but hey, here we are. And now, just a single week later, we’ve got to defend these titles. Do I think I can trust him? I don’t know. Do I think he’ll even show up for the match? Clueless. Do I think we’ll win? I’m fifty percent one hundred percent positive we will.”
A reporter in the second row on the other side of the room stood up now.
Reporter 2:: “Rayven, can you clarify what you mean by that? ‘Fifty percent one hundred percent positive’? It sounds like some Steiner math to me…”
Rayven rolled her eyes.
Rayven:: “Who let this smark in here? Steiner math. You do realize that all of his numbers add up and the final total is actually one hundred forty-four and two thirds? Call the guy crazy, but he can do some quick maths up in his head space. But fine, I’ll clarify what I mean. I’m one hundred percent sure that I would win the match even if it was just me against both members of the other team. I don’t lose, I don’t let myself down. Letting me down is what other people do. That’s where the fifty percent comes in. I’m assuming Evolution will actually show up to the match, which means that there’s a fifty-fifty chance I’ll be in the ring and involved in the outcome. That’s the fifty percent I’m not sure about. I don’t know if I can trust the guy to win the match for us. I’d like to hope that I can depend on him, but it’s burned me in the past, and I don’t know jack about this guy. But I do know one thing.”
Rayven lifted the title belt and stared into the face plate for a moment before she gently laid it on her shoulder. She took the microphone from its stand and stepped out to the side of the podium, pacing back and forth a bit.
Rayven:: “I do know that I will do everything in my power to keep this precious gold belt right where it belongs. Around my sexy waist. If that means fighting by myself, I’ll get the job done. If that means supporting Evolution because he wants to do it all himself, then I’m there. If it means stabbing his oddly sexy lizard ass in the back if I have to, you’re damn right I will. I will do whatever it takes to keep this title. The way that it feels against my skin, the smell of it, it’s all just so intoxicating and I refuse to let it go. I’ve felt that pain before, of having something I love so much torn away from me. And I hate it when that happens. If you think I’m a bitch now, you should see me when I’m -really- angry.”
Rayven walked back to the podium and returned the microphone to its stand. A reporter in the middle of the crowd stood up now.
Reporter 3:: “What are your thoughts about your opponents in your upcoming match against Boris Drago and Dasha Ivanova? They’re newcomers to UOW and not a lot is known about them yet other than, well, they’re Russian.”
Rayven just smirked and shook her head.
Rayven:: “You know, I really shouldn’t answer that question. I should have put a clause in my contract that excuses me from answering stupid questions like the one you just asked. But fine, I’ll humor you. The short and sweet of it is, I’m not afraid of anything that comes from Russia. Especially a couple of wrestlers. Like, don’t get me wrong, some good things have come from Russia. Like, have you tried their vodka? Good shit. And for a brief moment they had some good political thinking, but then they went and bastardized what Marx was trying to say and fucked it all up. Which is exactly what I expect Boris and Natasha to do in this match, they’re gonna fuck up their opportunity at taking this lovely title away from me. Maybe they should go back to trying to hunt moose and squirrel, they’ll probably have better luck.”
Just then, the PR manager stepped up to Rayven and did his best to speak in hushed tones, but the microphone picked up what he was saying anyways.
PR:: “Rayven, you need to stop saying fuck so much. This is being broadcast in countries with strict censorship and we’re having a hard time keeping up with bleeping you out.”
Rayven slammed a hand down on the podium and shrugged the title belt higher on to her shoulder.
Rayven:: “You know what, fuck it.”
Rayven turned to walk away, only made it two steps, and then turned around like she’d forgotten something. She leaned in to the microphone.
Rayven:: “No further questions.”
She turned from the mic and began to walk towards the door she’d originally appeared from. The PR manager jumped in front of her.
PR:: “You’re slated for another ten minutes, get back up there and answer more questions!”
Rayven:: “Not a snowball’s chance in hell. I answered enough questions. And that asshole brought up Trine! I could swear I put that in my contract that NO ONE ever mentions Sparkles in my presence! I’m out of here. Fine me if you have to, I don’t care, I’ve got money. Better idea! Make me spend more time at therapy with Dr. Quack. I’m already having to do way more hours of that than I’d ever care to, what’s a few more hours each week?”
Rayven pushed past the PR manager and made her way through the door, quickly followed by the PR manager. The camera just barely picked up one more comment before the door closed completely.
PR:: “Did you say Evolution was sexy?”
Rayven:: “ODDLY sexy!”
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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 18:49:39 GMT -5
Written by MoonChild
Dark Sato Rising Ch. 4: War On The Streets
Takuma Sato is a member of the Ultimate Wrestling roster and a martial arts savant trained by his father since the age of 5 in the famous style of Jeet Kune Do. Sato joined Ultimate Wrestling after his father’s suicide to try to raise enough money to save their family home from being foreclosed on. Due to many complications Sato failed to save the house and his mother disappeared back to her home country of Japan with leaving no clue to as of her whereabouts. Recently Sato’s life outside of wrestling has become even more complex due to his recruitment into the Rebels of Society by Ares Metaxas. The Rebels are an extremist leftist group with a modernized socialist ideology based off of the teachings of the German philosopher Karl Marx. After defacing the Detroit McStrump Hotel in protest to the sitting POTUS, the group now is focusing in on their next mission to continue their fight against the extreme “Alternative Right” agenda and the social injustices plaguing America.
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Takuma stood in the basement bar of a Detroit Rebel owned hideout surrounded by other R.O.S members and their leader Ares Metaxas who had recruited them. The group was circled around a large wooden table top that was being supported by six bourbon whisky barrels. On top of the table sat a large military sand map of the United States with little pawn pieces representing different political organized factions, militia groups, and hubs housing radical racist hate groups who the Rebels considered hostile U.S. native born terrorists and their mortal enemies. Ares had a long metal instrument in his hands that he was using to push pieces around on the map to explain to everyone what the current status of the country was looking like. Suddenly Metaxas pointed to Kentucky with a stern look on his face.
Ares: We’ve done some great work here in Detroit and I’m really proud of everyone. That orange fat fucking fascist is having a fucking nervous breakdown according to our insiders in Washington thanks to that stunt we pulled with the McStrump Hotel. They reported back to me that he refused to come out of the oval office for the entire day and then was hospitalized for some reason.
Takuma: Serves him right.
Ares: However our work is never done. I’ve gotten word from our allies in Antifa that a major white nationalist hate group plans to march on the Confederate monument in Brandenburg, Kentucky to protest its removal. According to them, some of the most influential leaders of hate groups around the country plan to attend this rally. Now Kentucky also happens to conveniently be the site for the next Ultimate Wrestling show which means Takuma will already be down there for his big fight against Ms. Salinas.
Takuma: What do you need from me?
Ares: We have to strike these racist assholes when they come out of the woodwork like this. Free speech is an American right, but hate speech has no place in our America. I need you lead a squadron of Rebel of Society members into the danger zone to provide protection for the Anti-Fascist counter protest group that plans to crack some skulls. If any of those racist shit stains gain the upper hand I need you to do what you do best and open up a can of whoop ass so brutal that they spend the next 3 months in a hospital bed reconsidering their belief system and their life choices!
Sato slammed his fist into his palm and cracked his knuckles aggressively. The art stunt they had pulled in Detroit was okay, but artistic symbolism wasn’t really why he’d joined the R.O.S. He wanted to fight against racism and the injustices of the corrupt class system in America. This was the first mission he’d been assigned from Ares that would finally utilize his special skill set and also put him front and center in a leadership role.
Takuma: I won’t let you down Ares.
Ares: I know you won’t buddy. This is right up your ally. The strong protecting the weak. Fighting the evil consuming this world head on with that fist of yours. I only wish I could be there with you, but I unfortunately have received some disturbing news from the boarder. Our spies inside these I.C.E detention centers are giving me all sorts of sickening intelligence. I have to go down there and investigate it myself, but if it’s as bad as it sounds we may be faced with some tough choices in the coming weeks.
Sato nodded. He’d heard some strange reports on some of the non-mainstream liberal news media websites, but there wasn’t really any evidence to back up the claims people were making. Whatever was happening had Ares concerned enough that he was skipping the conflict in Kentucky, so Takuma knew it had to be pretty bad. Ares Metaxas was not the type of man who sat back and let others execute his orders.
Ares: You’ll be meeting my Russian buddy Nikolia who I believe you met during your prison time in Livingston Texas.
Sato: That old dude with the Santa Clause beard? Yeah, he helped me fight off some skin heads who wanted me dead.
Ares: Hah! Sounds like something he’d do… Anyway he’ll be introducing you to the rest of the team on the ground. The rest of you here are remaining in Detroit. I need you on the streets spreading our ideology and recruiting anyone you can. Understand?
The rest of the red vest contingent nodded before Ares dismissed them from their strategy session. It was clear they were all extremely tired and running off the adrenaline rush of the past few days. As they filed toward the door and made their way up the basement steps Ares turned to Sato who had taken a seat on an old wooden crate. Ares pulled out a pack of cigarettes with a lighter and lit up a square before taking a seat across from Sato on an old turned over rusty mop bucket.
Ares: Do me a favor…
Sato: What’s that?
Ares: Try not to get yourself killed out there…
{Scene fades to black}
Kentucky: I-71 South Bound to Brandenburg
30 some odd hours until Friday Night Clash 12
Sato roared down the highway doing well over 50 miles per hour above the speed limit on his Kawasaki Ninja motor bike. As he weaved in and out of traffic dangerously he found himself lost in thought over what had transpired and what was about to unfold. The sun had gone down about an hour ago and the full moon hung in the sky like a bad omen. He’d been rushing down south from Detroit to make up for lost time after an argument with his girlfriend Amber.
“Maybe Amber is right… maybe I’m becoming reckless and too cavalier since I joined the Rebels of Society, but she hasn’t been on the brunt end of the corruption like I have. She doesn’t understand why I’m fighting this fight or why it’s so personal for me. She’s angry with me losing the tag team titles to Evolution and Rayven, but it’s not like Abbigail put up much a fight against them ether. Maybe I am too distracted, but wrestling pays the bills, it doesn’t help make the world a better place. What I do with the Rebels makes a difference in the world. That’s important to me…”
Takuma changed lanes abruptly and moved over to the off-ramp for Brandenburg. It was a warm summer night and Takuma had chosen to leave this leather jacket back in Detroit. All he had on was his helmet and a black t-shirt, gloves, and jeans. As he slowed the bike down he felt the rush of the wind die down and his shirt come to a rest as he stopped at the red light in front of him he once again found himself lost in deep thought.
“It doesn’t help that I’m going up against Valora tomorrow night for the submission specialist championship. Amber knows how dangerous of an opponent Valora can be and she knows I broke my hand fighting her last year at Ultra Slam. I thought I had her dead to rights and ended up putting my fucking fist through the ring mat. I’d never tell her in person, but she’s the only one left on the roster that I truly fear, of course I’m probably not alone. Valoras been at the top of wrestling for years and for what she’s lost in athletic ability due to old age, she makes up for it through sheer violence. I know that once I’m done here in Brandenburg I’m going to have to turn 100% of my attention to figuring out a way of making that crazy Latina tap out…”
Takuma’s thought process was interrupted as he bore witness to hundreds of white nationalist marching through the streets carrying lit torches. At first the hateful Nazi protest group was only making animalistic grunting noises to intimidate innocent bystanders looking on and some of the brave individuals willing to shout at them to go home were being roughed up. However as Sato slowed his bike and came to stop at the top of a hill he heard the torch carrying fascist begin to scream “One Nation, One People, End Immigration” and “You Will Not Replace Us” being chanted over and over again.
Sato: What the fuck…
Sato shook his head in disbelief and revved up his bike before hightailing it too where he had been instructed by Ares to meet Nikolia and the leader of Antifa Dominque Prince. His heart began to race as he realized that a far larger number of Nazi fascists had shown up for the march most likely thanks to President McStrump making them feel empowered through his racist rhetoric and anti-immigration policies. The smell of torch fluid burning stung Sato’s nose even through his helmet as he finally caught a glimpse of his red vest brothers and some well geared Antifa members who had gathered some two football fields away from the Confederate monument that was now surrounded by white nationalist and counter protestors screaming slurs at them.
Sato pulled up to a sudden halt and shut his motor bike off before getting off of it and walking toward the rotund Russian with the large white beard. He was surrounded by fellow Rebels and high ranking Antifa members. Their leader Dominque was a larger African American man with cleanly shaved head and large dark black beard. He like pretty much everyone else was dressed in black with large letter a patch sown into his shirt pocket. He was carry a large metal pipe in his right hand and looked as if he meant to use it. As Sato walked up to the group Dominque smiled at him and nodded.
Dominque: So this is the muscle Ares sent us? I’ve seen you fight on television my Asian American brother. We’re going to need some of that ferocity tonight. I hope you’re ready to bring it.
Nikolia: I’ve seen him handle himself during my run in Prison. Comrade Sato knows how to dispose of Nazi scum! Isn’t that right Taku?
Sato nodded and Nikolia put his large arm around him before welcoming him into the leadership circle. The group was surrounded by a combined 300 men and women from both groups and every one of them looked ready for a fight. Many had brought masks with filters built in to nullify tear gas and were carrying weapons ranging from baseball bats, crowbars, and large metal chains. Mostly everyone had their face covered in one way or another. Dominque climbed up onto the hood of a large black van and then onto its roof to address his troops.
Dominque: Alright so they out number us 3 to 1, but we have the advantage as they are only expecting normal counter resistance protestors. They won’t know what hit them before it’s too late! Many of you may be hurt! A lot of us may get arrested for what we do tonight by the useless Police who sit idly by allow these Nazi scum to take to our streets! But you will all rest easy knowing that you did not allow Nazi’s to come into your town and preach hate! You will rest easy knowing you fought them head on like our grandfathers before us during World War 2!
The Rebels and Antifa members raised their clubs in the air and let out roar like something out of the large gang gathering scene from the 1979 classic “The Warriors”. It was clear to Sato that this was going to get real violent real fast. He knew that the likelihood of him coming out of this skirmish hundred percent was out the window. Valora would without a doubt have the advantage during the fight the following night if he made it out alive.
Dominque: Our goal here is to find their leaders Dick Fencer and Bobby Buke! If we can take them out we cut off the head and unlike Hydra two more will not grow back in their place! The Nazi are weak! The Nazi will fear us! Fascists only speak one language and that language is violence! Tonight the Nazi will feel great pain as we communicate our repulsion to their sick ideology!
The crowd around Sato roared again and before he knew it they were marching into position in order to charge into the white nationalist torch carrying marchers surrounding the old Confederate statue. A row of 15 police officers dressed in riot gear was the only thing that stood between them and the Nazi’s being heckled by the normal counter protestors who would soon be innocent bystanders. It was clear even the police had underestimated the Nazi numbers that would be attending and were woefully under prepared. Nikolia handed Sato a black gas mask and instructed him to put it on just as their small group of 300 finally reached the exact strategic spot Dominque wanted. Then without even the slightest hesitation he pointed his steel pipe at the confederate monument and they rushed it with pure fury in their hearts from forty yards out.
The R.O.S and Antifa members crashed through the Brandenburg police department like a stampede of elephants and knocked them down onto the ground trampling them in the process. The white nationalist were so busy chanting there racist rhetoric that they were completely blindsided by them as the anti-fascist group slammed into them with devastating aggressive force. The sounds of bones breaking and skulls cracking echoed throughout the monument park as the Nazi’s were punished brutally many being seriously injured with the first few minutes of the coordinated attack. Once the initial shock of the surprise attacked had worn off many of the white nationalist began to use their torches as weapons to fight back.
As the white nationalist numbers grew Sato began to unleash an onslaught of blows taking numerous Nazi’s like something out of a good kung fu movie. Taku showed no remorse as he crippled limbs, broke necks, and stopped hearts in the blink of an eye. With everyone from both sides either dead or injured on the ground around the Monument the Brandenburg police officers still able to stand got to their feet and began firing tear gas into the chaos. This only seemed to affect the white nationalist as most of the Rebels and Antifa members were prepared for this eventual inevitability. With their backs against the wall those armed began to fire at the attacking anti-fascists with no concern for human life what so ever. To them they were communist foreign scum, sub-human, unworthy of their empathy.
With things clearly escalating to a horrific level, police reinforcements were called in and arrived within seconds. The park around the confederate monument was an absolute warzone and most of the people at ground zero including Sato could barely see out of the tear gas smoke and flashing police lights. Sato tripped over a body and then realized it was Nikolia. The big Russian American immigrant had been shot in the shoulder and was bleeding out on the pavement. Sato’s survival instincts were screaming to leaving him behind and make a run for it, however he remembered how Nikolia had helped him in prison and instantly he used all of his strength to help the big 300 pound Russian up onto his feet.
Nikolia: Thank you comrade, but I suggest that you leave me behind and save yourself. You are far more important than I am in the grand scheme of things.
Sato: Shut up and keep going. We got to get the fuck out of this shit before we wind up dead or arrested!
Nikolia: We’ve accomplished our mission comrade Sato. The Nazi as devastated and I’m sure I saw Bobby Buke last living moments! The mission is a success, I am expendable. Save yourself comrade! Tis but a flesh wound!
Sato: I’m not leaving you behind to end up in prison again. Now move it!
The two R.O.S members made their way out of the smoke and carnage and made it back to where the black van had been parked. Sato opened the door and found the key’s in the ignition before pulling them out and tossing them to Nikolia.
Sato: The rest aren’t going to get out of there before the cops pin them down and even if they do I doubt their making their way back here. Take the van and get to where ever Ares told to go once this thing was over.
Nikolia: What about you comrade? I won’t leave you behind after you saved me.
Sato: Me? I’m taking the bike…
Nikolia nodded and the two Rebels parted ways.
To be continued in Friday Night Clash 12!
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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 18:51:22 GMT -5
Written by CreativeTruth
I Swallowed uh...
The doctor paces outside in the hallway in front of room 405. He chews on his pen and turns the clipboard around, perplexed by the x-ray slide.
A nurse approaches him with a concerned expression.
Nurse: Should I tell him, or will you?
Flopping the folded back topsheets back over the clipboard, the doctor slumps in defeat. He scratches his head vigorously and wipes off a bead of sweat from his brow.
Doctor: No, no, no. It's my prognosis. I will tell him. I just wish I had something better prepared.
Nurse: Tell him the truth, and let him sort it out. Something about him tells me he has seen some pretty crazy things happen in his short life. I'm sure this won't come as a surprise to him.
Doctor: Considering his past mishaps, maybe you're right. Thank you for the encouragement Darla. You're the best.
Nurse: No, you are, Ben.
As he opens the door to room 405, a TV up in the corner of the room is showing laps of a live NASCAR race going underway. Behind a curtain, a man is shouting colorful obscenities at the screen that make little sense.
The doctor peels back the curtain.
Lying on the gurney is a shell of a man. Once known as a champion professional wrestler with athleticism and unparalleled energy. Now he lies weakly with porcelain white skin smattered with bed bruises. Never a muscular man, but now he is a scarecrow. His skin folds over his boney skeleton, and his face has aged beyond his years.
Doctor: Mr. Huckleberry, may I have a few words with you? The lab results are in.
Huckleberry: Lay it straight, Doc. My pappy died when he was 28. Am I gonna sharer the curse of my family and kick the bucket before I meet my grandkids?
Doctor: You have children?
Huckleberry: No... I mean, my cousin Ruby has four, but we ain't sure if one of 'ems mine or not.
Doctor: What about a wife or family members? Should I invite them to the hospital to help make you more comfortable? You might be here for a while longer.
Huckleberry: Fat chance. I got cousins, sisters, brothers, mothers, uncles, aunts, and relatives up the yin-yang from here to Missouri. But don't worry, I ain't got nobody in my life who cares a lick about me. I can handle the news, whatever it is. Lay it on me.
Doctor: Whatever you say. Maybe it's better if I show you.
The doctor drop the clipboard with the x-ray onto the lap of Huckleberry.
Huckleberry: What in the high hills is that? Is that? You mean I....
The doctor nods.
Huckleberry: I swallowed...
The doctor nods.
Huckleberry: No, no, no. That can't be right.
Doctor: Oh, I'm quite certain. Would you mind telling me how you managed this? This is probably the first case in recorded history I have heard of this happening.
Huckleberry: My brother Eddie swallowed a live piranha when he was twelve. Might have survived if the neighbor girl hadn't surprised him from behind by tickling him to death. Then there was my uncle Harry. He swallowed a sea urchin. Started choking on it. Unfortunately when my pappy applied the Heimlich maneuver on him to rescue him, it done him in. My nephew Darren had everyone believe he swallowed a hammer, but when they took him to get looked at, the good news is the handle was only half way up his---
Doctor: Okay, that's enough!
Huckleberry: No worries. Little Darren came out fine. We call her Darby now after the last operation she had.
The doctor scribbles some notes down.
Doctor: I'll have to look at your, umm... family history of medical files a bit more closely. It sounds like your family has a propensity for...
Huckleberry: Accidents and dying early. Yeah, our family crest is a tombstone on a field of bones. Look, I appreciate you looking after me, but I best be gettin' going. The boys at the ring are wonderin' where I've been these past few months, and I don't want them to know about my little accident and that I had to go back to the hospital again. I just want to get back to training like nothing ever happened. Maybe nobody will notice.
Doctor: Nobody will notice? Huckleberry, you plan on wrestling? I'm not even sure if you can walk.
Huckleberry: Sure I can. I walked to the can this morning. Just hand me that walkin' stick will yeah? Yeah, the one with the hillbilly knapsack tied to it.
The skinny little Appalachian slides off the gurney uses the walking stick for support as he stuffs his hairy toes into a pair of pink bunny slippers. And as fast as he gets up, he shakes the doctor's hand and walks out the door.
The doctor panics as he looks at the green glowing liquid dripping off his fingers.
Doctor: Darla? Darla!? I need your help stat!
The nurse peaks her head into the room.
Nurse: What's wrong Ben? Where's the patient?
Doctor: Hell if I know! Now help me get this radioactive contaminant off my hands. We need hazmat team to clean up the bathroom, and then we need to alert the police.
Nurse: Why? What happened?
Doctor: Huckleberry swallowed two gallons of radioactive hazardous waste. Half of it is running down through the sewers now, and the other half is checking out of the hospital as we speak. Anyone who comes into contact with that walking corpse is going to be in grave danger.
#ewrestling #efed #uow #ultimatewrestling #wrestling #comedy #short-story #shortstory #story #writing #humor #fiction #roleplay #rp
Thank you for reading my original writing. This is a fictional satire, and my roleplay 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 18:52:07 GMT -5
Written by Valora
Valora Chronicles: Downtime Prior to UOW Friday Night Clash 12
Somewhere in the Nuclear Contamination Zone, Los Angeles and Surrounding Locales:
Valora made her way through what was left of Los Angeles slowly, deliberately. Every step taken as if she were walking on some strange foreign planet. Which, to most people, it might as well be. But not Valora. Even with most of it destroyed, Valora knew exactly where she was and where she was going. Every few steps, she spared a glance over the stats scrolling through the HUD in her helmet. Stats that gave her everything from her body temperature, to the rate her body temperature was changing, how long she had in the suit, radiation levels, vital signs, and a whole host of other information all available for her. She rolled her eyes a bit. “So this is what Tony Stark feels like.. Except he has a power suit and I’m stuck in this just so I can go home..” Valora turned and made her way down to her first stop, which was the remains of a cemetery. As she entered, she closed her eyes for a second, letting her photographic memory rebuild the cemetery for her. She made her way slowly, counting rows before making a couple of turns and finding her way to her destination. She paused and looked at the charred and damaged ground before her and sighed. “Hola, mom.” She said, very slowly and awkwardly kneeling down on one knee as she had an idea. “Hey Sam… hypothetically.” Samantha’s voice cut her off. “No, Valora.” Valora clenched her fist and sighed. “You don’t even know what I’m gonna fuckin’-” Samantha’s voice cut in again. “They will not let you remove anything from there. As for what you’re going to ask.. I can make an educated guess but go ahead and ask.” Valora bit her lip in frustration and nodded. “Hypothetically… how long would it take you to decon say… a handful or two of dirt?” Samantha sighed sadly and glanced at Abbigail before speaking back into the mic that connected her to Valora’s suit. “They won’t allow it, Val.. you went to med school, you know how quarantine works. It’s why you loaded up on iodine before heading in..” Valora sighs. “Yeah, and the fuckers gave me another dose before letting me in. Abs… you once asked me why I hated playing the hero… take a good fuckin’ look.”
She looked around letting the cam take in the devastation and nodded. “Heroes aren’t remembered for their wins, kid… they’re remembered for when they fail. Heroes have to win every fuckin’ time.. The bad guys just need to win once.” Abbigail leaned close to Samantha and spoke into the mic. “Bullshit. I can think of a few million people who are alive today thanks to you… Fuck’s sake Valora.. You moved faster than anyone else.. Faster than me and I was on some weird Warhammer super soldier formula.. There isn’t another person on Earth who could have done what you did.”
Valora stood up slowly and nodded. “Yeah… just woulda been nice if I could have moved a little bit faster..” She said as something that no camera picked up, something she would never allow herself to admit, even to herself, happened.. A tear ran down her cheek. She blinked in surprise as she felt it.. And moments later tasted the bitter, salty tear on her lips. She needed to change the subject. She smirked as an idea came to her. “So Sam… scale from 1 to 10.. How does Vastrix’s toy impress you?” Samantha’s answer was as quick as Valora expected it to be. “Well I suppose my first reaction is to ask why Warhammer decided they needed suits capable of withstanding this level of radiation in the first place. But it does the job and it’s allowing you to visit your childhood home so I’m grateful for that at least.” Valora walked out of the cemetery, with a handful of dirt in a special bag she brought along for this purpose and smirked. “Always plan for the worst, then you’re never surprised or caught off guard.” Abbigail’s voice chimed in. “You are just a fountain of optimism, aren’t you?” Valora laughed. “I’m a realist.. One of these days I’ll tell you how I start every day.” Samantha nodded as she glanced at Abbigail, cutting in here. “Val.. we can come back and do this again, but you need to start heading back now.. Kara and Kronin are coming and you still have to review Kronin’s records.”
Valora sighed and nodded. “I already did but I’ll take another look on the plane.. But I don’t think his sister is going to like what I have to tell her.. Neither will Kronin for that matter.”
A couple days later, Isle de Valora somewhere in the Caribbean:
Kara Reinhardt stands on balcony looking out over the island. Next to her, Valora leans against the wall calmly drinking a mojito. Kara looks around again before glancing at Valora somewhat suspiciously. “So how exactly do you afford your own damn island?” Valora smirked. “No offense but given that you’re a cop, I think I’ll take the Fifth. Now, what did the first doctors you saw say?” Kara sighs and shakes her head. “That my brother’s fighting career is over. That if he is lucky, he’ll eventually be able to walk normally.. But if he falls the wrong way he could renjure the spine and never walk again. Also, you know refusing to answer the question doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence, yes?”
Valora smirks. “Fine. We’ll leave it at I’m really fuckin’ good at my job. Getting back to the matter at hand. I think they are probably right. Kronin was lucky he wasn’t paralyzed already. Getting back into the ring and fighting isn’t an option without...a lot of help.” Kara was silent for a long moment before she looked around the room and then back at Valora. “What kind of help?” Valora shrugs. “Cybernetic help. He’s going to need added protection.. If we could find a way to speed healing maybe even some low level tissue regeneration, that would be helpful too..”
Kara shakes her head in disbelief, Valora tilts her head. “I’m sorry, would you prefer me to lie to you?” Kara laughs a bit despite herself as she gathers herself. “No, I was just thinking.. For the longest time my brother was convinced you were just another.. I believe the term is ‘garbage wrestler’? And it turns out all along you’re a genius.. You could have been a great doctor.. Why fight for money?” Valora smirks. “Because I’m also a sick puppy… also in case you didn’t hear, our very own Fuhrer has decided that since I’m Mexican I’m a murderer. A criminal. A rapist. I could have become a doctor.. And cops would still harass me because I look like my name is Valora Salinas… and I’m coming to rob your house. My mother kept her head down, didn’t make waves.. She lived her entire life as a second class citizen. I decided to fight back… and trust me, I know what your brother used to think of me.. Gave him fits when the ‘garbage wrestler’ kicked his ass.
Kara smirked and nodded. “I think the two made each other better, which is why I’d rather not see his career end. However, I can’t see him agreeing to end up like Vastrix.” Valora nods. “I can’t I blame him.. But I’ll bet he’d hate being locked in a wheelchair more. Luckily, he might have more choices..” She said as she glanced over at Samantha. “What do you think? Is your pet project ready?”
Kara’s eyes followed Valora’s as she turned to look at Samantha and raised an eyebrow. For her part, Samantha leaned back against the wall and narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. “It’s not ready yet and you know it isn’t ready yet.” Valora shrugged at this and nodded. “We can at least tell her about it.. This situation with Kronin.. this is what came up with this idea for.” Kara glanced back and forth between the two women. “I’m glad you two know what’s going on, mind cluing me in?” Samantha sighed and rolled her eyes turning and heading down a side hallway into a room, gesturing for Kara and Valora to follow. They came into a room that looked like a lab of sorts and Samantha turned to face Kara and nodded. “You’ve seen how cybernetics is usually handled. I wanted to see if I could work out a system that was a little less borg in Star Trek and left the patient looking and moving more like a human.” Kara nods. ‘That’s possible?” Samantha smirks. “When you’re as smart as I am, whole new universes of possible open up for you.” She turned briefly and hit a few keys on her keyboard. An image of a human body comes up on the wall screen, showcasing a human body. “Basically, rather replace organic body parts with metal and the like, I insert a few fairly small cybernetic interfaces at key points in the body. These part are infused with nanites. Nanites that I specially program with the patient’s DNA. It greatly reduces instances of rejection and similar problems. Ideally, what this also will do is allow the nanites to repair the damage. In the case of Kronin, for example, the nanites would ideally… regenerate spinal cord tissue and repair the damage done.”
Kara listened nodding as the information was given to her as she crossed her arms across her chest. “So what isn’t ready?” Samantha nods. “The second part the system.. I needed something to maintain the nanites, work with the human host in a symbiotic relationship, and everything. I only came up with one solution. And I stop talking here until we set some ground rules.” Kara raised an eyebrow and sighed. “One a scale from 1 to 10 how illegal is this?” Samantha shrugged a bit. “Depends on where you are, I guess.. It isn’t technically illegal, but corporations are the only ones messing around with it and I’d prefer not to have simple minded, unevolved apes trying to steal my work so they can try to make super soldiers.” Kara smirked and nodded, letting her German accent out a bit as she nodded. “I know nothing…” Samantha smiled and nodded. “I came up with an A.I. It was the only solution. However, since an A.I. is a sentient life form, I believe it has rights.. Mine works with me because she chose to, not because I’m forcing her to.”
Kara nods. “Two questions.. I’m not a super nerd or anything but in science fiction doesn A.I. always end badly and two, why would people want to use this for super soldier programs?” Samantha smirked and nodded. “A.I. in popular science fiction is always on it’s own. Disembodied, locked in a robot or something. Isolated.. And usually humans are trying to force it to do a job. My system is a symbiotic relationship. The A.I. greatly enhances the host and in return, by being connected with the host, the A.I. gets to experience the world as a human. This brings me to the answer for your second question..Imagine coming into a room full of terrorists and being able to find your target, calculate the most optimal firing solution and shoot, resulting you in dropping 2, 3, maybe even 4 terrorists before they have time to even react to the breach. We’re talking pushing the host to bare minimum peak human ability and likely beyond that threshold.” Kara nods. “Demonstration?” Samantha smirks. “Not in here. Perhaps later.” Kara nods. “So what do you need to help Kronin with this procedure?”
Samantha thought for a second and sighed. “Firstly, a DNA sample so I can make the nanites. Then I need an A.I. that has agreed to the situation and is ready for it. That is going to be the hard part and it will take time.” Kara nods. “How long and can we start without the A.I.?” Samantha thought for a second, her mind running through calculations and such. “Without the A.I., I can program the nanites to focus on healing and repairing the damage. In layman’s terms.. I can confidently say he’ll be able to walk and do light physical work but he’ll still have to rehab as a athlete normally would. But he will not be able to get into the ring. I can’t guarantee that will be safe. There will also be surgery.. I’ll need to install the few cybernetic implants that will be needed.” Kara nods. “Alright. I’ll speak with my brother on this but I think he’ll be amenable. Please begin preparations and I’ll let you know what he decides.”
Kara turns to leave, pausing for a moment before looking back at Valora. “You ever wonder about what else might have been possible for you?” Valora smirked. “As a doctor? Stressful 12-15 hr shifts if not more, grossly underpaid because I’m a woman.. Dealing with sexist, misogynistic shitheels.. It’d be a lot like working as a wrestler only I wouldn’t be allowed to beat the fuckers bloody. So uh.. Yeah I guess I have thought about it and I’m happy.” Valora pauses here and looks down for a second. “Someone very important to me always wanted me to be the heroine.. I like to think she’d be happy now.. I started out fighting for myself. My own glory.. Now I’m fighting against a fascist regime for all the potential victims of said regime.” Samantha nods. “By the way, that reminds you.. The fascists seem to be pissed that you and Huckleberry lost to the Russians.. You’re defending your Submission title against Sato.”
Valora sighed. “Wonderful.. An ally… an ally who twist me into a fuckin’ pretzel.” Before Valora can continue, Kara steps forward. “I… can I ask your opinion on something else?” Valora raises an eyebrow and nods. Kara smiles. “I was… I want to get into the ring. Kronin is against the idea.. He says I’m too old to begin a career in professional fighting.” Valora crosses her arms across her chest and looks over Kara. “You went through the same program Kronin did, right?” Kara nods. “Yeah.. the East German government decided both my brother and I were suitable athletes.. Luckily, Unification brought an end to that.. But while my brother went into the military, I went into law enforcement… of a sort. I joined GSG-9. Counter Terrorism task force.” Valora nods. “Well… I’m already training someone.. But maybe you can help on that front… fuck it.. If Kronin won’t train you, I’ll help you.” Samantha chimed in. “I technically represent Valora and Abbigail as their agent. I can do the same for you as well.” Kara nods. “Thank you. Something to consider then.”
Kara left a short time later and Valora smirks. “At this rate i’m gonna need to find a place to open up another fuckin’ school…” Samantha smiled. “You’re enjoying it.. I never saw you happier than you were in that dingy, shitty run down gym in L.A.” Valora nods and sighs. “Yeah… I loved that place.. Eventually someone is gonna pay for that.”
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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 18:53:08 GMT -5
Written by MoonChild
LuLu Biggs Ch.2 - "The Mad Wrestler"
The 600 pound pimp known as LuLu Biggs stood behind a make shift double doorway at a live studio audience for the talk show Jinkx, named after it’s drag queen host Gabby Jinkx who’s popularity had shot through the roof over the recent difficult months. Biggs was wearing a black mask with a question mark pasted onto the forehead part and looked rather ridiculous as he stood waiting to be announced by the transgender host. His consiglieri and business partner Slick Mick was also wearing a similar mask and was smoking a joint while he waited with his rotund partner in crime. Suddenly the Gabby Jinkx show theme music began to play on the speaker system in the studio and the diverse crowd began to clap and cheer as their host walked out onto stage wearing an overtop sparkly dress and high heel shoes. Jinkx was covered in heavy makeup, fake eyelash extensions, and flamboyant eye shadow makeup and the fans seemed to love every bit of it. The live cameras were now focused directly on the Host as she began to discuss the theme of the show and introduce her first guests.
Slick Mick: You ready for this bro?
LuLu Biggs: Mother fucker I was born ready.
Slick Mick: Well alright then…
Ms. Jinkx: Hello my beautiful people! I’m your host with the most! Gabby Jinkx! Tonight we delve into the deep dark secret world of Professional Wrestling! Americas number 1 watched sport and the most violent form of entertainment in the world today. My first guest tonight and his manager have asked to remain anonymous in order to shed some light on the scandals in the business and the lengths these men and women are willing to go to in order to come out victorious in this brutal profession. So without further delay, let’s give a warm round of applause for “The Mad Wrestler” and his manager the “Mad Manager”!
The double doors in front of LuLu and Slick swung open and the stage lights beamed in on them blinding them initially for the first few seconds. They then walked out onto the stage to hardcore rap music while getting down to the funky beats being blasted by the studio speaker system. The fans gave them a fantastic greeting as they made their way over to their seating arrangements on the stage all the while busting a move and grooving along. Anyone who was an Ultimate Wrestling fan at this point could probably tell that this was Mr. Biggs and his buddy Slick Mick, but to the general public and those who preferred other competitor wrestling federation’s their true identity eluded them.
Ms. Jinkx: Welcome to the Gabby Jinkx show Mr. Mad Wrestler. We’re so happy you could join us in studio to talk about the troubling issues plaguing professional combat sports today.
Biggs: Yo! Like it’s an honor to be here on the Gabby Jinkx show. Yea, Yeah! I’ve been long time fan and it’s about time you got the recognition you deserve girlfriend!
Ms. Jinkx: Ohhh we got a sweet talker in here ladies and gentlemen! Thank you Mr. Wrestler. Now tell us… why are you so mad?
Slick: Why is he so mad?! Why is he so mad?! Tell’em why mad son! Tell’em why you mad!
Biggs: Let, let, let tah… tah… tell you something here Gabby Jinkx! There ain’t no regulations up in this bitch no more! No sanctioned regulatory body overseeing this mother fucking sport. People loading themselves up on War Hammer human growth hormone and taking steroids till their nut’s look like shriveled up raisins!
Ms. Jinkx: Sir this is a family show… will have to bleep you out. Please mind your language. There are children in the audience!
Biggs: When I first got in this game, there was drug testing, and you couldn’t just enhance yourself with pussy ass cybernetics to make yourself into some sort super fighter! That shit didn’t exist in the fucking 1990’s!
Slick: You tell’em brother! They don’t know! They just like watching one mother fucker beat the fuck out of another mother fucker!
Biggs: You know I be in it for the O.G. shit! I don’t… I don’t be recognizing all that Steve Austin Six Million Dollar Man SHIT! The 21st century is ruining combat sports and forcing the rest of us to make tough choices if we want to continue fighting!
Slick: This is an epidemic! Don’t think it won’t affect all yall lives too! Pretty soon every employer in the world’s gonnah want workers with cybernetic enhancements and Hammer industry developed energy drinks to keep you all working round the clock seven days a week as corporate slaves!
Ms. Jinkx: Mr. Mad Wrestler and Mad Manager please calm down! I’m going to ask again that you refrain from cursing on my program. Now some of what you’re talking about has some validity, but if someone wants to enhance themselves in order to make themselves better that’s their God damn business and not yours! Who are you to tell them what they can and can’t do with their bodies? Huh?
The crowd began to turn hostile against Mr. Biggs and Slick Mick as the hostess attitude toward her guests soured and her body language became sassier. It was clear that this was quite the libertarian crowd and they didn’t like anyone telling them what they could and couldn’t do especially some autocratic governing body.
Ms. Jinkx: Plus the only person I know walking around with cybernetic enhancements is Hammer Industries CEO and owner Jeremiah Vastrix. The man wouldn’t be able to function, let alone wrestle in the ring without his surgical procedures. You want take that away from him? A sport he loves?
Biggs: How is that the rest of the wrestling world’s problem? Mother fucker is a trillionaire! What’s he even doing wrestling? He’s got a whole massive corporation to run! Mother fucker be gallivanting around the world in super-copters and using that Go! Go! Gadget enhanced dick of his to fuck the brains out super models and actresses! No wonder he calls himself the God’s gift to women! He a living vibrator!
Slick: That’s right Jinkxy! It ain’t right! How’s brother with normal dick supposed compete with that shit? Huh? What’s the world coming to? There’s a whole black market on the dark web for cybernetic penile enhancements! This shit huge in Eastern Europe right now!
A mixed reaction came over the audience as Gabby Jinkx raised her penciled in eyebrows up high surprised by her two guest’s accusation. She placed her hands on her hips before raising her microphone to her lips.
Ms. Jinkx: This sounds pretty farfetched boys, you two got any proof?
Slick Mick stood up and unzipped his fly from his jeans and then thrusted forward. The blurry pixels blocked the view for television viewers, but for the people in the audience they were treated to a large cybernetic appendage standing fully erect like a shiny new toy. The audience gasped as many covered their eyes horrified by Slick Mick exposing himself to them all.
Slick Mick: I got your proof right here bitch! This thing cost me twenty mother fucking grand! Worth every penny too! Twice the pleasure receptors and three different settings for your special ladies ultimate pleasure! Vibrate, spin, and gyration!
Ms. Jinkx: Good lord! Put that thing away! What in the hell do you think this is? HBO? You can’t do that on cable television! What the hell is wrong with you two?
Security rushed out onto the stage and tackled Slick Mick to the floor before he could even zip up his pants. The audience jumped to their feet letting out a roar before starting a “Jinkxy” chant as the security guards wrestled Slick Mick into submission and handcuffed him. LuLu laughed as he watched the security team drag Slick away kicking and screaming obscenities about his newly enhanced member. It was clear Gabby Jinkx was pissed by the whole event that had just transpired, but being the professional that she was she pushed on with the show.
Ms. Jinkx: Alright Mr. Mad Wrestler, say I believe you now. What’s your plan to fight against these enhanced opponents?
Biggs: Hey, I’m a grown ass man! If these mother fuckers are gonnah cheat, then bring it! Ain’t no one in the game dirtier than me! I plan to equal the playing field in my own special way! So wrestlers like Jeremiah Vastrix better be on high alert! I’m bringing the kitchen sink!
Ms. Jinkx: Oh really? I think that sounds like a promise ladies and gentlemen!
Biggs: You damn straight!
Ms. Jinkx: Alright well that is all the time we have on today shows for our wrestling segment. Mr. Mad Wrestler thank you for joining us today and pulling back the curtain on professional wrestling. Next time though please leave your manager at home, I think we’ve all been traumatized thanks to him!
The audience members who hadn’t walked out of the studio laughed a bit as the live feed cut for commercial break. LuLu got up out of his seat and was clearly angry with the host Gabby Jinkx.
Biggs: What the hell? You can’t tackle my manager like that!
Ms. Jinkx: He exposed himself on my show! I can do whatever the hell I want! Now get your fat fucking ass off my stage! I will never have you on here again! Do you hear me! Wait till I talk to my producer! His ass is grass!
Biggs: Oh really! Well you just lost a lifelong fan Gabby Jinkx!
LuLu Biggs stormed off the stage toward the direction Slick Mick had been carried away fuming mad. The audience watched snickering as the big man waddled quickly exit stage left yelling for security to take the cuffs of his manger.
To be continued on Friday Night Clash 12
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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 18:54:45 GMT -5
Written by Evolution
The Mystery of Evolution!
The Mystery of Evolution...
The world has gone from high tech to prehistoric as they fall to their own primal urges and instincts to hunt and destroy everything and everyone around them to become the top of the food chain. As America has become nothing more than a third world country relying on aid from other countries such as Russia, the annihilation of North Korea and places such as Mexico, Africa and those countries that have always been considered poor and underdeveloped are now leading the world. As they already know how to live in such dire conditions.
Evolution has started taking its toll on the world along with the redevelopment of society under leaders such as Mcstrump and Putin. The world has turned to such things as wrestling to past the time and to help decide major issues that once use to be decided in courts, government agencies and the offices of the World Order. The current UOW tag-team champion Evolution roams the lands of his forefathers as he searches for the next level of evolution as he continues to evolve daily.
He came across an old military bunker near the base of an old abandoned mining shaft, he makes his way down the shaft and into the bunker as he begins to search for whatever may be there. Evolution doesn't normally look for things but with the new problems of the world, his old instincts are starting to kick in especially with his current title defense against the Russian team. As he searches he finds as old office filled with documents all in Russian, he begins to move them around when he knocks over an old grandfather clock revealing an unlocked vault door. As he slowly opens it he stops in his tracks as he sees what's inside. As he stands there staring at the contents it brings back memories of an old story he was told but for some reason, the memories seem more than just from a story but as if he was there.
Story Flashback...
Commander Grayson Volkov leaned back from his desk, pushed his chair back, and ran a hand through his hair. He exhaled loudly, stood up, made himself some of the strong, dark coffee he liked, unbuttoned his tunic collar, and went and gazed out the window overlooking the Kovalevsky Forest Preserve on the Rzhevskij Poligon where the Red Terror took place. He needed to think, he needed to come up with a solution for the problem that he was confronting, and absolutely nothing was showing itself.
Commander Volkov was Fifty-two well-toned years old his hair was raven black, with some traces of steel-grey. His well-groomed mustache was the same. He was tall and muscular, standing erect at 1.9 meters. He was still trim, with very little fat, and weighed in at 90.7 kilograms. He had taken good care of himself throughout his career.
He had been in the service of the House of Leonid Brezhnev ever since he was thirteen years old. The educational system on Stalin Prime screened all children when they were twelve years old. The screening decided how the child would be educated, what career they would pursue (what careers there were available on Stalin Prime,) and pretty much how they would spend the rest of their life. Grayson displayed higher than average intelligence.
He received a military education and was appointed a non-commissioned officer at age eighteen. He entered the Brezhnev infantry but very quickly moved to the Spetsnaz Corps and then into the GRU. He was commissioned a junior officer by age twenty-five and given even more responsibility.
At age twenty-seven, the young officer was sent off-planet for the first time in his career. He traveled to the Soviet space station on a private mission for the House Brezhnev. From the Soviet space station, he was sent to a secret location somewhere in the Middle East, to the ancestral home of the House of Vladimir Ilich Lenin and mortal enemies to the House of Brezhnev. He had his eyes opened and his sites set on the Patriarch of the House of Lenin.
The House of Lenin, like most of the country, was a poor had become poor. Over there, the people concentrated primarily on fishing and foreign trades and Military sabotage. On this mission, he worked mostly in security as he gained access and befriended the family of Lenin.
The House of Lenin kept no slaves, no staff that they could not control or did not trust. Yet, the House of Brezhnev used slaves for the most difficult and dirty jobs on their properties. There were other differences as well, the feelings of oppression and hopelessness that existed in Motherland were not present in the Middle East. The people were poor, but they were able to find ways to come up with a living mostly illegally. Indeed, the House of Lenin was often seen with and by the people making sure to display their superiority. Commander Volkov was in charge of security for the House of Lenin, as there was no roaming police force at that time, Like the House of Brezhnev could afford or command. Commander Volkov did not see the fear in the Patriarchs eyes as he watched him every minute of every day.
The Commander would cultivate a contact in the House of Brezhnev, and over the next few years, the two would exchange information. Commander Volkov, however, had a talent for weeding small and useful tidbits from his contact. He was promoted twice after his return to the House of Brezhnev and then reassigned to active duty on the front lines. It appeared that there was a small revolutionary movement simmering in the Motherland with the intent to kill the Patriarch of the House of Brezhnev. Commander Volkov found the movement, but it did not impress him. It was nothing more than a small band of citizens, angry and frightened, doing some anti-political attacks. Commander Volkov discreetly began to take out each and every one of them as he evolved into something much more.
The reassignment to the Kovalevsky Forest Preserve played right into Volkov's hands. He was out near the small villages and the anti-political establishments, where the people were the most oppressed and the most dangerous. In two years' time, he had a valued and secured private information network up and running. He had even made inroads into the anti-political establishments. He couldn't start an armed revolution; the people had no weapons and the penalty for possessing one was death due to all of the attempts or discussions about them. Although Commander Volkov passed all sorts of useful information to the House of Brezhnev by way of the midnight meetings and private messages with his superiors. Commander Grayson Volkov was laying the foundation for a sound Soviet takeover.
And then came this what appeared to be a silly or pointless assignment. The Soviet President's nephew liked to hunt for sport with some of his friends at the Kovalevsky Forest Preserve. But they didn't hunt game. They hunted children, preferably between the ages of ten and eighteen, whose parents had been given slave or prison sentences by the courts. The children did not last long, either being killed by the military hunters or dying of exposure while being hunted. Indeed, some of the bodies were never found. When a child was committed to the preserve, it was given a tattoo with an identification number on the inside of its mouth. That way, when the child's body was found, he or she could be identified. But lately, there had been a new and interesting twist to the "sport" at the Kovalevsky Forest Preserve.
Some of the military hunters had become the hunted. It was happening with greater frequency. Four men would go out and three would come back. One, or possibly more, of the children, were killing the military trained hunters. The firearms would not be taken; they could be traced with the radio tap. But knives and clothing would always be taken and when the slain hunter was found, there would be no trace of the killer except a few muddy footprints leading nowhere. Commander Volkov's assignment was to find this dangerous new hunter.
The House of Brezhnev had been ordered to turn over control of of the country, and all military information, to the new World Order by this new world power. The change had taken place, but the Patriarch of the House of Brezhnev was not pleased. He was losing a great deal of income and power. His nephew rarely showed at the Kovalevsky Forest Preserve; there was something big going on concerning the Arrakisnew World Order and he felt his nephew was involved with that. But some of the former leader's friends still showed up to hunt. They, unknowingly, would help Commander Volkov solve his problem. And with no Soviet leaders poking their nose into the affair, Commander Volkov had a free hand.
Commander Volkov unbuttoned his tunic completely, sat down again behind his desk after refreshing his coffee, and pushed a button. A dark-eyed brunette of average height and slim build entered the office and smiled.
Brunette Yes, Commander?
Mika had been a baker in one of the poorer villages near the Kovalevsky Forest Preserve. She had passed the test to enter the New Soviet leaders service, and got hired as an administrator by Commander Volkov. She was very smart and had a clear and cool mind, but women were definitely second-class citizens in this new evolution of the military. Commander Volkov's instinct told him that things did not quite square with Mika. He had done some background checking but could find nothing definite. She did, however, appear to have all of the qualities of a Nancy Astor. But Commander Volkov was not sure if she was a renegade sister or a plant. The New World Order was very secretive, and no one really understood their motives. She was, however, very useful. And, like the new Soviet leaders, Commander Volkov did not waste talent.
Commander Volkov Mika, did you look at these folders? The Mentats picked these four, but I can't help but feel, in my gut, that it's this fifth one the GRU dismissed.
Commander Volkov stated while pointing to a fifth folder.
Mika So you did have a GRU assessment of the children used in the hunts?
Remarked Mika.
Mika The current leadership must think highly of you to allow access to GRU files and they picked four?
Commander Volkov Idiots, all muscle and no brains.
Growled Commander Volkov.
Commander Volkov Yes, they did have a GRU investigation look at the thirty or so folders. But I keep thinking it is this fifth child, a boy, which the GRU did not single out. My instincts say that the GRU is wrong or hiding something.
Mika knew about instincts. She was a Nancy Astor prodigy and a plant. Her function was to keep an eye on Commander Volkov. Her reports, sent at a regular basis to the New World Order, had opened their eyes to the fact that Commander Volkov was building an active resistance. She also alerted them to the fact that Commander Volkov was exceptionally intelligent, a natural leader, and displayed the morals and ethics of a world leader as opposed to the former leader. He was a diamond in the rough.
Mika Perhaps, Commander Volkov, since you have so much freedom in this matter, it would be best if you investigated all five?
She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head to the right as she answered. The Commander leaned back in his chair, folded his hands on his chest, and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. Then he cleared his throat and spoke.
Commander Volkov I have a plan!
Commander Volkov spoke calmly.
Commander Volkov The former leader was one cruel bastard. He would tell the children before they were released into the preserve, that there was a sanctuary of sorts in the village. If they could escape and make it to the sanctuary, they would be set free. Of course, Mika, that was complete fiction. Not only was there no sanctuary, but also escape would be almost impossible. And if a child did escape, they would be killed but that was the House of Brezhnev.
Mika moved to the desk and picked up the folder containing the information on the fifth child. She glanced through it quickly.
Mika Commander Volkov, it says the boy was thirteen and his brother was ten when they were released into the Forest Preserve. That was five years ago. He would now be eighteen. He could be completely feral. Indeed, two years ago a party of Soviet mercenaries went hunting, and none came back alive. He may be very dangerous indeed!
Commander Volkov Mika...
Said Commander Volkov, looking at her and smiling,
Commander Volkov If this boy or girl or whatever has survived and become a killer of that skill in five years, he is just what I need in my organization, what we need in the Soviet military. I am willing to take the chance, are you? Besides, I think that for him to survive in the preserved environment he must be both physically and mentally evolved.
Mika Agreed, but you must be willing to accept the fact that you may not be able to civilize him or control him.
Commander Volkov I'm willing to take the risk.
Mika Fair enough, what is your plan?
Commander Volkov It's pretty simple, we release about five new children into the preserve. We seed them with the false map to the Sanctuary, although this time it will be embellished a bit. We keep them in the preserve for two weeks or so while we create an escape path. We can't make the escape path too easy, or our prey will suspect a trap. We invite a foreign military hunting party to draw the killer toward our escape path. I know some useless Middle Eastern soldiers who will work nicely. And then we lead him right to our sanctuary. Then we see what happens.
Mika Easily done, what happens when you have this young man, for I strongly believe it is the boy as well, in your custody?
Commander Volkov Then you take over!
Said the Commander, grinning slyly.
Commander Volkov You, with your Psychological skills, are going to evaluate him!
Mika smiled, turned on a heel, and left the office as the Commander turned his chair towards the window and gazed out of it.
Back to the present...
Evolution snaps out of his daze as he shakes his head and walks right into the fault, you can see the smile on his face as it's full of American Gold Bars, what appears to be a working computer system and dozens of File cabinets all of which interest him. The Gold alone was a major fine as he will never need for anything and he can use it to help this world his homeland to reach their next level of evolution during a time of immense poverty.
He walks around trying to count the stacks of gold but gave up after the first couple hundred, instead, he began to search through the file cabinets when he came to a file folder with a name he knew and hadn't said or heard in ages. He sat down at the desk with the computer system and began to read it as he opened it up. He instantly knew he had to keep this file and never let another person see it. He placed it inside a bag on his waistband and out of curiosity reached over and hit the power button on the computer. It started right up without hesitation, he knew whoever was here last had been a computer wiz in order to keep this online in today's world.
He quickly began to type in a few search engines trying to find pout any information on his opponents for the Kentucky show. He was able to find a few things on Boris Drago and Dasha Ivanova. After a couple of hours of sitting there reading about his opponents, he would finally do what he normally doesn't do he typed in the URL for a live feed straight to the UOW and his opponents and began a private message just for them.
Evolution Dasha, Boris welcome to the "Age of Evolution", as you will soon see or better yet will soon find out, who I am and why you're not on my level. I am Evolution, and I am one-half of the tag-team champions but don't think for a moment that I need her but don't think I won't accept her help in evolving you in our match.
He sits there as the cool air flows through the fault giving him a bit of a chill being so far underground, but the shine from the gold warms him up as he continues to speak.
Evolution You two believe that because your Russian and your leader is running things in today's world that you're entitled to what's mine. That you deserve to hold my championships around your waist but allow me to educate you. I am more than a man, more than a legend, myth or fairy tale. I am greater than science, religion or a dream, I am everything I am evolved and I am what everyone should strive to be. I am Evolution and I continue to evolve with every passing moment as you and this world continue to devolve and continue its de-evolution.
Evolution Boris, don't think that Putin will save you I know more about your leader than you know, he can't save you from your destiny and Dasha I won't even have to touch you as my partner Rayven will cause you to either "Evolve or go Extinct"!!!
He shuts the computer off as he sits there faced with the possibilities of what he can do with all of that hidden gold and what could possibly be inside the rest of the file cabinets.
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Post by moonchild on Oct 17, 2019 18:55:53 GMT -5
Written by Kronin & Valora
UOW Friday Night Clash: Dasha and Boris Plan for their first Title Match:
Russian Embassy, Washington D.C. A couple of days after Friday Night Clash 11
Dasha sat in her office, going about her day job. After all, to get the diplomatic immunity she and Boris needed to do their real jobs, one had to, at least tangentially, be a diplomat of some sort. For Dasha, a FSB agent, this meant a position as ‘Head of Security’. It was one of her favorite roles. Spy Hunter. Inquisitor. Ruthless keeper of the status quo and enforcer of government in Moscow. For Boris, this meant security detail… actually being a visible, and intimidating, presence. A warning to potential troublemakers.
At the moment, she was watching video from Friday Night Clash, studying the performances. Her job mostly just required her presence in case something went wrong. Most days she had all the time she needed for ‘other’ projects. A knock on the door tore her eyes from the video briefly. Seeing the huge silhouette on the door, she nodded. Boris. She idly waved her hand and verbally called for him to enter. The door opened and the large muscular man walked in, looking at the video too before nodding. “I thought you liked her.”
Dasha nodded. “Da. She’s a friend. Worthy of respect. I might even have use for her. However, holding back against her is both insulting to her and a mistake. Go anything less than full bore against her and she will make you pay. Now she knows once more we are threats that need to be taken seriously. More importantly, any chance of her and Huckleberry ever working together has been wiped out. Divide and Conquer, Boris. Valora’s only trustworthy ally now is a young, inexperienced protege she is training.” Boris raised a giant finger. “Umm the..Japanese guy.” Dasha smirked. “She’s defending her title against him this week… a situation that plays into my hands perfectly.”
Boris looked at Dasha quizzically and Dasha replied by wheeling her chair over to a Chessboard she had set up. Each piece had a label on it indicating the name of one of the wrestlers in UOW. Dasha nodded. “I’m having custom pieces made, for the moment.. This will do. Right now we have a more or less united left wing popular social movement represented by Valora, Abbigail Dresden, and Takuma Sato. Others have yet to really firmly establish their faction. Valora already distrusts the extremists Sato is falling in with. This week, you and I will hit that link and shatter it. I have a propaganda video that will be going up on UOWs website later on today. Then you and I will win the tag team titles and you will break this Evolution and put an end to him once and for all. Then we have one more move to play at Friday Night Clash 12.. A move that will wait for later.”
Boris shifted in his seat slightly as he listened to the instructions Dasha gave him and nodded, cracking his knuckles. “Da. He will be broken. But Valora has other allies. Her agent, Kronin, Kronin’s sister. Jeremiah Vastrix.” Dasha raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You’ve been doing your homework.. Nice to see you learned reading along the way. Jeremiah Vastrix is not ally of Valora’s. She killed his father and sooner or later, Jeremiah and his board will find the oversight of Valora and Kronin to be more trouble than it’s worth. Jeremiah Vastrix is Bourgeois. Valora is the poster child for the Proletariat. The two worlds can not mix. We should not need to do much more than stand aside and watch that alliance implode on it’s own. Kronin has been injured by this Evolution.” Dasha rotates her laptop, showing a complete read out of Kronin’s medical records. “Luckily for us, MOX news has even worse cyber security protocols than the American government does. I am quite sure you could have hacked in and gotten the information without being detected. From what I see here, it looks as if the doctors are convinced Kronin’s career is over. His sister is.. Even more arrogantly self righteous than her twin brother is so I would not place bets on her and Valora getting along for very long. Her agent.. Now that is definitely a potential threat. But she is not beyond a measure of control either.”
Boris nodded, looking over the information on the computer screen and turned to Dasha. “Won’t we get in trouble if the Americans realize you stole this?” Dasha shook her head. “Nyet. Even if they discovered the records were accessed, they can’t trace it back to here or to us. Besides Boris..We control the American government.. So let’s say somehow they did figure out it was me. The worst the government can do is send me back to Moscow.” Boris nodded. “You spoke with American government? This why you were absent yesterday and in late today?” Dasha smirked. “I had...a loose end in New York to tie up.. But yes between that favor and taks I’ve had with the Americans, I am being assured that the President has broken free of the blob cults control. Naturally, Moscow and I want proof of this. I have instructed the Americans to make an example out of this cult. When the attack happens and Moscow and I are happy with the proof, we can resume our partnership.”
Boris glanced over at the chess board as he listened to Dasha speak and, after a moment, she paused, her eyes also moving over to the chessboard before looking back at Boris, an amused smirk on her face. “You play?” Boris shrugged. “Used to, when I was younger. After I was conscripted and later made it through Spetsnaz program, I found little time to play.”
Dasha set the board up and gestured for Boris to move first as she poured two glasses of vodka and set one by her side and one in front of Boris. Boris took a drink and glanced at the board, thinking for a moment before he moved a pawn on the far right side forward 2 spaces. “So what is plan so far?”
Dasha also took a drink and moved a pawn on the left side forward one space. “Moscow has seen the poll numbers for McStrump. We see the Americans beginning to organize and fight back. Initially, bringing the Americans over to our side was thought impossible.. But our success has opened that door. However, we can not forget our main goal here. Cause chaos. Weaken and distract the Americans and make it impossible for them to focus on international problems because of their own internal problems..To that end, Moscow wants us to ‘hedge our bets’ as the Americans would say. Part of our operations will back McStrump and the Republicans. We have Kompromat on McStrump, we are gaining it on other key political figures as well. Between that, greed and re-education when and where feasible, we will bend the Republican party to our will. However, if the left wing forces win we want allies there too. So Moscow wants us to reach out to the extreme left wing. The communists and others like them. I believe Valora could be a key figure in that. After all, some of our best allies have come from Central America and Mexico.”
Boris is thoughtful as he listens, taking another drink of his vodka and looking over the board moving the pawn one to the left of his first move forward one space. “Valora doesn’t seem like communist to me, Dasha. Socialist maybe.. But she is rich. Is she not Bourgois?” Dasha smiles. “Nyet my dear Boris. She is not. She does not use her wealth to oppress. She gives massive portions of it back to the people. She.. protects them. This is what makes her more dangerous now than she has ever been before. She has a cause. She has reason to fight. She is no longer fighting for selfish reasons. She is like us in World War 2. Fighting for our people. Fighting for survival. She was screwed out of her title.. I am going to help her by pointing that out. I want to use her strength to my advantage.” Dasha moved her next pawn forward one space. Boris glanced at her, slightly confused and Dasha leaned forward. “I am going to remind the people that as champion, Valora defended her belt every show. Something the current coward does not do. Something no one else does. I am going to say that since winning her current title, she has defended it every show.. I am going to tell the people that UOW hates hispanics.. That they want a white man to have the belt. That they screwed their beloved champion.. I want the people to demand Valora take more aggressive action. I want the people to demand that Valora side with us.”
Boris made his next move and looked at Dasha. “What about this group Sato belongs to? Useful idiots, nyet?” Dasha shakes her head. “Nyet. I thought so at first.. The group claims communist ideals and might have been useful but their leadership is too unstable and untrustworthy.. This Ares is a criminal.. An anarchist. He doesn’t care about the people.. He wants to watch things burn and uses revolution as a justification for it. Valora feels the same. She is only reluctantly working with them. I want to give her a better option.”
Boris nods. “How?” Dasha smirks. “I want you ready at the show. Ideally I would want you dressed like red shirted thugs and have it appear you are aiding Sato and have Valora win by DQ to retain her title but you are.. Too big for disguise to work as intended. Instead, we will watch the match and if need be, we will make sure Valora retains her title.” Boris nods, taking a drink. “Valora will not approve.” Dasha nods. “Nyet. She won’t. But I have bad feeling about this match. If Ares and his thugs do not screw Valora over to get their new puppet some power and thus themselves more power, the same sooka that attacked Valora and cost her the main belt might show up again. I want us ready to either even the odds, or help Valora hold on to her title. In the meantime, we have other ways in.”
The two continued their chess game and a few hours later, ended their day jobs. Dasha and Boris then made their way down to a studio to record Dasha’s interview for UOW. As they made their way to the studio, Boris looked over at Dasha. “So what is grand plan of yours exactly?” Dasha smirked and looked around, ensuring they were alone before continuing. “Ares is fool… but he is useful idiot. He could be dangerous.. If he could focus brainpower for longer than 2 seconds at a time. He is emotional, rash.. Reactive.. He wants anarchy.. But his red shirted fools might convince the people to follow them off cliff. I will give them a new champion to follow. If things go well, Ares and his thugs will attack Valora to try and steal title for Sato. This will enrage Valora and the people.” Boris nods. “And if Red shirts...don’t attack?” Dasha smirked and patted Boris on the shoulder. “They will, comrade.. If Ares doesn’t send his red shirts out I will send mine out.. Either way the people will see Ares and his thugs try to steal Valora’s title.”
Boris was about to ask for more information, but Dasha silenced him by raising her hand as they reached the recording studio for the interview. A UOW Reporter sat there, adjusting his tie as he prepared. Dasha walked up to him and raised an eyebrow. The man smiled and offered his hand. “Hi there. I’m Jason Johnson, Mox News… we umm thought it might be nice to take full advantage of having a representative of the Russian government here So if that’s alright with you I can ask you some questions?”
Dasha glanced at Boris and nodded. “Da. Tell me Mr….Johnson.. Were you told how media works in Russia?” He nodded. “Yes but ummm I’m American and you’re in America and-” Dasha narrowed her eyes a bit and nodded. A few seconds later, the camera went on and the reporter began. “Hello UOW and MOX News viewers! Jason Johnson here with Dasha Dra-” Dasha cut in by leaning in and whispering something in his ear and he nods. “Oh.. right, sorry. We’ll stick with Dasha for now. Anyways, Dasha and her partner Boris landed with a major impact last episode of UOW Friday Night Clash, as they decimated the team of Valora Salinas, first ever UOW Franchise Champion and current Champion Huckleberry. I’m told the win so impressed the higher ups at UOW, that the two of you now have been booked for a chance to win the tag team titles. So let’s start with your thoughts on your opponents.”
Dasha smirked. “Of course we won.You Americans. You think you can just tap two people on the shoulder and tell them they’re a team. You grab top tier talent and say screw chemistry or other intangibles.. Valora Salinas and Huckleberry were never going to be an effective team. You screw Valora Salinas out of her title and expect her to be a good little Cyka and work for the man who benefited from the travesty that stole her belt? A white from the south. A region of the country and demographic that is directly responsible for putting McStrump in the white house and thus lets him declare war on the hispanic population, a population, by the by, that includes Comrade Salinas. Gee.. I wonder why the two spent more time fighting each other than they did Boris and I. It’s a complete mystery.”
Johnson cleared his throat and nodded. “Well.. yeah.. I guess put like that.. But surely a country as big as Russia has similar issues.” Dasha laughed a bit. “Did you see issues between Boris and I? I am from Moscow. Boris was born in small village in Siberia. We are a team. Boris and I have fought for our country for years.. In the ring. In war. In many different ways. If Boris and I as a team are given a goal. Boris and I will achieve that goal, as a team. It is why you will see us win the Tag Team titles.”
Jason Johnson nodded as he listened and when given a pause to continue, he did. “Okay so.. You seem to admire Valora Salinas. May I ask why?” Dasha grins. “She is poster child for the Proletariat! She is what Karl Marx and Frederick Engels and Lennin imagined.. An oppressed worker rising up and taking her freedom from her would be oppressors. She has fought the revolution her whole life. Now she has people behind her. People who see what she’s fighting for. Who see the ‘elites’ as they call themselves steal her glory from her, try to force her back down. There will be a revolution. The people will not allow the so called ruling class to dictate to them who to cheer for.. They will not follow some drunken, hot headed fool and his band of red shirted anarchists. I might be wrong, but I believe they will follow Ms. Salinas. Huckleberry? He is a fool. Mentally weak, I do not blame Valora one bit for deciding she had a better chance against us by herself than with that moronic imbecile dragging her down and holding her back.”
Jason Johnson nodded eagerly. He was told that getting wrestlers to insult their opponents was good so this had to be going very well, right? Maybe he might finally break onto the actual MOX News network! A man could dream… He turned his focus back to the matter at hand. “Well now your upcoming challenge. You have a man in Evolution who has reportedly ended one career already and injured at least one other opponent. Any concerns?” Dasha said nothing just grinned at pointed to Boris who crackled his knuckles, narrowed his eyes and said simply. “I will break him.”
The camera panned back to Dasha who nodded. “Evolution is fitting name. I guess we will see if he is more fit to survive than Boris and I. I think he will be proven weak and will pay for it.” Jason Johnson nodded and glanced towards Boris trying his best to contain the nervousness he felt at the man’s intimidating presence. “And his partner? Rayven?” Dasha was silent for a moment, considering. “She looked promising for a new talent making her debut.. Perhaps after we free her from her ‘partner’ holding her back she can come into her own. We will see. Regardless, we will see if she can turn in a good performance even if she is on a team that can not win this fight.”
Jason Johnson nodded. “To move to politics for a second, I’m sure you’re aware that a portion of Americans believe your country has interfered with American Elections and helped President McStrump get elected. Can you put that to bed once and for all?” Dasha laughed a bit. “I find it interesting. There has never been a presidential election without interference. Your Electoral College decides who the President is. Not the American people. It’s a nice little lie you’ve all told yourselves but the simple truth is the American people have never once chosen their own leader. They make their choice and hope a cabal of secretive elitists decide to give them their wish.Between that and the accusation that anyone with a social media account can mess with your election makes me wonder how Americans can believe their election system is the envy of the world. But da. Your elections have been stolen from you. By your electoral college. Rather than looking for foreign countries to accuse, perhaps you should address the inherent corruption in your own systems.”
Having gotten what he needed on the politics front, Jason Johnson gave a wide smile and nodded in agreement with Dasha. “I agree. I have so much more to ask you but I see we’re running out of time. Thank you so much for your time today and good luck in the upcoming match.”
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