Post by Donzig on Feb 16, 2023 23:57:31 GMT -5
Inside a small dimly lit room that looked to be made of damp looking roughly hewn stone, Donzig-gun gathered. They sat around a gleaming wooden table, and on one side sat the silent forms of the Oblivion Death Squad. At the foot of the table stood the Baroness, Sinclair Godfrey before a board covered with pictures of the various tag teams in the Gauntlet.
On the other side of the table were Marcus Anderson, and the huge form of the man known as Tarrasque. Tarrasque was eating some sort of sandwich much to the disgust and dismay of the man at the head of the table.
Donzig.
He hissed softly, shaking his head as he looked back at Sinclair.
‘Are you sure Tarrasque wants to hear this?’
‘I am trying to improve his intelligence so he may better serve Donzig-gun, my dear.’
Sinclair looked doubtful, and arched a brow. Donzig sniffed, and he waved a hand towards Tarrasque.
‘Tarrasque, tell Sinclair what you learned today.’
The big man looked up, brows coming together with a mouth full of sandwich before he swallowed.
‘Tarrasque learn that Alexander Hamilton did not write a musical.’
Sinclair blinked, and Donzig shrugged.
‘Baby steps.’
Mormo and Moloch stared at each other, and then Mormo growled.
‘Ai nuk e bëri? Mendova se ai shkroi 'Shitja ime' për t'u bërë përshtypje të tjerëve në King's College?’
Donzig stared, and he fell back in his chair with a sniff.
‘The man helped found this country, and developed our economic system, but all anyone knows is that fucking musical. Somehow this is Marty’s fault.’
Marcus Anderson stared at Sinclair, who shook her head before she spoke again.
‘We all have a daunting task ahead of us at the Tag Team Gauntlet at Legacy.’
She paced to the board, and waved a hand at the scattered pictures.
‘Here we have the usual suspects: The Dark Stars, Team Fairtex, Rage and Cage, Wentzel and Blaque–’
Donzig lifted a hand, flicking his fingers as he snorted.
‘Wentzel and Blaque? Are they still a thing? I figured Armand had sent to them to the Shadow Realm or whatever.’
‘Tarrasque love Yugi-oh.’
Donzig stared at him, then shook his head. Sinclair continued, and tapped the board.
‘Rage and Cage.’
‘I fucking can’t stand those two, next they will tell me that I am being too hard on Tarrasque because of his intellectual disability.’
‘Tarrasque is a r–’
Donzig’s hand slammed down on the table, and he pointed an angry finger at the big man.
‘You want Mongo down here? Is that it? You’re fine, you’re just a little thick.’
‘Some like them thick.’ growled Tarrasque happily between bites. Sinclair stared at him, then turned to Donzig with a tilt of her head. He waved a hand at her, leaning back again as Marcus looked between them.
‘Are you two together?’
‘Not this again.’ sighed the Lord of Donzig-gun.
‘Tarrasque is not the only thick one here sometimes, Marcus.’ snapped the Baroness, and she turned back to the board.
‘And of course, the Bastards. No doubt, they have something up their sleeves to escape this little mess that Blood got them into.’
Donzig sniffed.
‘Yes, some people let their pride and arrogance lead them to ruin. It is sad really.’
Everyone in the room froze, and stared at Donzig. Even Tarrasque, and he swallowed a bite of his sandwich as Donzig glared back at them from behind his mask before his fingers started to tap. Everyone looked away, and Sinclair cleared her throat.
‘Then we have the Glucks, and whatever Graves is doing with Neon Bushido.’
Donzig snorted.
‘The boys will deal with the Glucks, and Graves is a buffoon.’
‘Tarrasque is buffoon.’
‘You are the only henchman of Armand who is not a buffoon, the man has an absolute clown fetish. It is kind of strange.’
The Death Squad and Marcus all nodded in agreement, and Sinclair continued.
‘Then we have Maxine Salt and Pepper Hutchinson.’
Donzig paused, and he tilted his head.
‘Salt and Hutchinson?’
‘I think they want to be called Salt and Pepper.’
Donzig shook his head, sniffing.
‘Why would they do that? Traditionally, you both use your last names, eh? Doesn’t make any sense? That would be like Rage and Cage being Rage and Nic.’
‘Kripa dhe Piperi janë ikona në Shqipëri!’ growled Moloch.
Mormo nodded, tapping the table. ‘'Push it' është një klasik amerikan! Kjo dihet!’
Sinclair rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighing.
‘Not that Salt and Pepper, boys.’
‘Esmeralda liked ‘Shoop’!’ said Tarrasque, making another sandwich as everyone stared at him.
‘She is the Usurper here!’
Tarrasque stared at Donzig, then cocked his head before he slathered mustard on the lunch meat.
‘Tarrasque doesn’t know what that means.’
Donzig stared, and Sinclair coughed into her hand as Mormo and Moloch looked away from the Scourge. And then the Baroness, cleared her throat before she continued.
‘Salt and Pepper –’
‘Salt and Hutchinson.’
‘--are a wild card, I don’t know anything about them yet. Then we have the Sanctuary, Kenneth Casper and Travis Monroe.’
Donzig leaned forward, stabbing a finger at the table.
‘Shouldn’t we call them, Casper and Travis?’
Tarrasque laughed at that, bits of sandwich flying from his mouth slamming a huge hand down on the table. Mormo and Moloch stared at him, and then looked back to the frowning Sinclair.
‘The Black Knife Cabal!’
‘Ah, Brendan Harding and that other one. How delightful, I can’t wait to send Fox’s husband home to him in pieces, and –’
Tarrasque nodded, and spoke again around after a quick swallow.
‘Armand say you just jealous because Brendan and Fox are happy, because you are obsessed with Fox.’
Donzig stared.
‘Armand say, you should forget Fox and get with Sinclair because that girl would do anything for him, and she is clearly quite a fre–’
‘Tarrasque, dear?’
Tarrasque turned to look at Sinclair.
‘Be quiet, yes?’
Tarrasque nodded, and Donzig rose to leave.
‘This is tiresome, we shall defeat them all!’
On the other side of the table were Marcus Anderson, and the huge form of the man known as Tarrasque. Tarrasque was eating some sort of sandwich much to the disgust and dismay of the man at the head of the table.
Donzig.
He hissed softly, shaking his head as he looked back at Sinclair.
‘Are you sure Tarrasque wants to hear this?’
‘I am trying to improve his intelligence so he may better serve Donzig-gun, my dear.’
Sinclair looked doubtful, and arched a brow. Donzig sniffed, and he waved a hand towards Tarrasque.
‘Tarrasque, tell Sinclair what you learned today.’
The big man looked up, brows coming together with a mouth full of sandwich before he swallowed.
‘Tarrasque learn that Alexander Hamilton did not write a musical.’
Sinclair blinked, and Donzig shrugged.
‘Baby steps.’
Mormo and Moloch stared at each other, and then Mormo growled.
‘Ai nuk e bëri? Mendova se ai shkroi 'Shitja ime' për t'u bërë përshtypje të tjerëve në King's College?’
Donzig stared, and he fell back in his chair with a sniff.
‘The man helped found this country, and developed our economic system, but all anyone knows is that fucking musical. Somehow this is Marty’s fault.’
Marcus Anderson stared at Sinclair, who shook her head before she spoke again.
‘We all have a daunting task ahead of us at the Tag Team Gauntlet at Legacy.’
She paced to the board, and waved a hand at the scattered pictures.
‘Here we have the usual suspects: The Dark Stars, Team Fairtex, Rage and Cage, Wentzel and Blaque–’
Donzig lifted a hand, flicking his fingers as he snorted.
‘Wentzel and Blaque? Are they still a thing? I figured Armand had sent to them to the Shadow Realm or whatever.’
‘Tarrasque love Yugi-oh.’
Donzig stared at him, then shook his head. Sinclair continued, and tapped the board.
‘Rage and Cage.’
‘I fucking can’t stand those two, next they will tell me that I am being too hard on Tarrasque because of his intellectual disability.’
‘Tarrasque is a r–’
Donzig’s hand slammed down on the table, and he pointed an angry finger at the big man.
‘You want Mongo down here? Is that it? You’re fine, you’re just a little thick.’
‘Some like them thick.’ growled Tarrasque happily between bites. Sinclair stared at him, then turned to Donzig with a tilt of her head. He waved a hand at her, leaning back again as Marcus looked between them.
‘Are you two together?’
‘Not this again.’ sighed the Lord of Donzig-gun.
‘Tarrasque is not the only thick one here sometimes, Marcus.’ snapped the Baroness, and she turned back to the board.
‘And of course, the Bastards. No doubt, they have something up their sleeves to escape this little mess that Blood got them into.’
Donzig sniffed.
‘Yes, some people let their pride and arrogance lead them to ruin. It is sad really.’
Everyone in the room froze, and stared at Donzig. Even Tarrasque, and he swallowed a bite of his sandwich as Donzig glared back at them from behind his mask before his fingers started to tap. Everyone looked away, and Sinclair cleared her throat.
‘Then we have the Glucks, and whatever Graves is doing with Neon Bushido.’
Donzig snorted.
‘The boys will deal with the Glucks, and Graves is a buffoon.’
‘Tarrasque is buffoon.’
‘You are the only henchman of Armand who is not a buffoon, the man has an absolute clown fetish. It is kind of strange.’
The Death Squad and Marcus all nodded in agreement, and Sinclair continued.
‘Then we have Maxine Salt and Pepper Hutchinson.’
Donzig paused, and he tilted his head.
‘Salt and Hutchinson?’
‘I think they want to be called Salt and Pepper.’
Donzig shook his head, sniffing.
‘Why would they do that? Traditionally, you both use your last names, eh? Doesn’t make any sense? That would be like Rage and Cage being Rage and Nic.’
‘Kripa dhe Piperi janë ikona në Shqipëri!’ growled Moloch.
Mormo nodded, tapping the table. ‘'Push it' është një klasik amerikan! Kjo dihet!’
Sinclair rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighing.
‘Not that Salt and Pepper, boys.’
‘Esmeralda liked ‘Shoop’!’ said Tarrasque, making another sandwich as everyone stared at him.
‘She is the Usurper here!’
Tarrasque stared at Donzig, then cocked his head before he slathered mustard on the lunch meat.
‘Tarrasque doesn’t know what that means.’
Donzig stared, and Sinclair coughed into her hand as Mormo and Moloch looked away from the Scourge. And then the Baroness, cleared her throat before she continued.
‘Salt and Pepper –’
‘Salt and Hutchinson.’
‘--are a wild card, I don’t know anything about them yet. Then we have the Sanctuary, Kenneth Casper and Travis Monroe.’
Donzig leaned forward, stabbing a finger at the table.
‘Shouldn’t we call them, Casper and Travis?’
Tarrasque laughed at that, bits of sandwich flying from his mouth slamming a huge hand down on the table. Mormo and Moloch stared at him, and then looked back to the frowning Sinclair.
‘The Black Knife Cabal!’
‘Ah, Brendan Harding and that other one. How delightful, I can’t wait to send Fox’s husband home to him in pieces, and –’
Tarrasque nodded, and spoke again around after a quick swallow.
‘Armand say you just jealous because Brendan and Fox are happy, because you are obsessed with Fox.’
Donzig stared.
‘Armand say, you should forget Fox and get with Sinclair because that girl would do anything for him, and she is clearly quite a fre–’
‘Tarrasque, dear?’
Tarrasque turned to look at Sinclair.
‘Be quiet, yes?’
Tarrasque nodded, and Donzig rose to leave.
‘This is tiresome, we shall defeat them all!’
