mosler
Special GUNS Acess
Mosler's not here man.
Posts: 2,339
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Post by mosler on Apr 24, 2023 16:28:01 GMT -5
{{Sparks representing a full range of the grey scale illuminate the vulgar sky, with the burst of fireworks.}}
AB: ...Processing...
ZS: For vhen you vin.
{{Our scene opens into a large asphalt field in the back of Luchian Inc.'s 3rd R&D department. There are an impressive amount of munitions present considering that this location is primarily for their fast food wings. SWAT's resident eastern bloc secret police officer turned wrestling mad scientist, Zoran Sainovic, is wearing a pair of heavy arm pads. A few feet away The Industrial Man stares intently at this newest discovery. Sainovic taps a button on his chest, and the pads start to pump red fireworks into the sky. Attila Balan nods appreciating the air pollution they create.}}
AB: Optimal.
ZS: Ve vill have zem modified into your attire so that after each successful defence you can shower ze crowd in the explosive joy.
AB: Commendable Doctor Sainovic, see if our technicians can push through approval for the Fairtex defence...
{{The wonderful mechanical man who is a friend to all but hates nature turns to acknowledge the camera.}}
AB: That is not to disparage Tong's chances of victory, all the data indicates he has an impressive 40% chance of upsetting this unit's early title run. Good for him. I am eager to implement this celebration apparatus upgrade unrelated to my potential victory...
{{Blue fireworks explode in the sky.}}
AB: ...should Tong prove himself to be a worthy challenger; I will enjoy igniting the atmosphere in his honour as well. I apologize if that intent was not clear in my first address...
From the Fairtexs comments it became apparent that they felt their family was being disrespected because I noticed that all my opponents were from wrestling dynasties. As the newly appointed measuring stick by which the upper echelon of Syndicate Wrestling And Tradition talent is judged, I have a mandate to foster fresh talent. The unit's main drive is the growth of humanoids around him... but fostering fresh talent is a key issue. Diversify the current challenging pool, which features an abnormally skewed number of family members of existing SWAT draws. Nepotism. My goal was not to strike a nerve. No nerve damage was intended Tong. The purpose is fostering the roster's evolution.
Insult you? Degrade you? Look down on you? Hardly.
This unit wants you to be... THE BEST TONG FAIRTEX YOU CAN BE!
See I did research on you, and suggested a shared experience based on your Hardkore world southern title reign; that was an attempt to cross the void between Thai Fighter and machine. Only for you to register a complaint that I was not doing enough research on you. I have an army of doctors that would like nothing more than to write lengthy research papers on you, Tong. Not just vivisection. They promised me. I have your best interests at chest cavity. Still you complain that I can derive more information from a banner. Thank you for the data. It is not for me to judge your previous wrestling attempts; I only look forwards to your future ones.
Tong, when I mentioned Shootfighter, you immediately went on the defensive... this is admirable, as you should stand as your own unit.
Unfortunately you brought your brother to the verbal fight.
If you want to be recognized as more than the offspring of Shootfighter, my logic matrix indicates that you may wish to avoid filming promotional videos in the company of other Shootfighter offspring. You can look to your father for advice, he will tell you the same. This is also true for being recognized as a singles competitor instead of a tag team performer. I am sure you have had an illustrious career, but do you really need your brother with you to grow the male reproductive organs required to boast? If so, I have another research team that will be most interested in studying you.
A banner. Is the best the great Fairtex has to offer a simple banner?
Is your past the only thing that defines your future?
I will process the information as it relates to our upcoming encounter, but it does you no huge service, Tong. While this unit's core data matrix is still processing all the pertinent information, you mock these lack of details, suggesting my reasoning to be the faulty product of a virus. A virus. I will never understand humanoid humour. You are the son of the Shootfighter? You have a Thai background? Perhaps THE BEST TONG can decimate this unit with the martial arts portion of his too impressive to be effective move set, break me down on the way to becoming International champion?
{{The Industrial Man's chest cavity opens up to reveal the shining gold SWAT strap...}}
AB: There is NOTHING I would like more than for you to rise to the occasion and prove yourself to still be a great singles wrestler, leaving the tag scene to the real contenders like Buster and myself. That would show real out of the box thinking Tong.
My prime directive is your evolution Tong.
The only person standing between you and this title belt... is you.
You can rise to the occasion, or continue to operate at a reduced productivity rate.
The choice is yours... but fairly soon you will no longer have to worry about The Shootfighter's shadow...
You will be further eclipsed by Phantam's...
Perhaps Tong, you will be happy for your inferior brother's superior accomplishments? Filled with a joy in seeing Phantam achieve greatness you failed too... but that too requires real personal growth.
{{The chest cabinet retracts back into The Industrial Man's heavy frame, leaving only Zoran Sainovic to once again release the fireworks.}}
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mosler
Special GUNS Acess
Mosler's not here man.
Posts: 2,339
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Post by mosler on Apr 24, 2023 16:29:31 GMT -5
{WELCOME ATLANTIC COAST!!!}}
{{A large banner welcomes back the stars of Atlantic Coast, as the videographer enters a large banquet room in the backstage area of the Verizon Center. In the center of the hall is that wonderful mechanical man who is a friend to all but hates nature, Attila Balan. The Industrial Man was recently taught the value of pointless banners by Team Fairtex, and hopes that Tong approves of the WELCOME sign. Long buffet tables are covered in all manner of snacks to celebrate this reunion, chips even; Luchian Inc. spared no expense. A smaller table rests in front of the international champion, where his personal assistants Bobbi and Roxi have placed nametags. It's been such a long time wasting away in other regions, that Balan is worried the stars might not know each other.}}
Balan: How are Mark and Jodie, Burt?
{{The philanthropic robot always makes space in his data banks to learn the names of the production assistants' progeny. Burt nods approvingly. Before they can strike up a conversation, Lucius and Julius Blood enter the room.}}
Balan: The brothers blood! Welcome! My partner Buster and myself were delighted to see your names added to the ACW roster... we have been searching for some real competition in the tag ranks, and it is will be wonderful to test our ability to tandem wrestle against a legitimate team like yourselves.
Lucius Blood: What's all this? I'm Lucius, "He" is Julius. (Swap name tags)
Julius Blood: Industrial Man, an honour to meet you. We will be most ready for the day we meet.
{{Bobbi hands the two men name tags... just as the Devil of SWAT pushes up to the table.}}
VVV: Nametagsss? You know everyone here was in another region together lassst month...
Balan: We are attempting to foster an atmosphere of openness and inclusion.
VVV: Yeah, well, I'll be over at the bar fessstering an atmosssphere of hossssssssstility and exclussssssssssssssion.
{{Reaching down, the king of snakes snatches the Beelzebozo nametag off the table, destroying the perfectly ordered idea. If the robot could register shock and outrage he would, instead his circuits switch to damage control mode.}}
Balan: Please pay little heed to Vincent; he has been a little despondent since losing to Psychotic Goth last month. <pointing at Zoran Sainovic pretending to be a waiter> We had to put Vincent on a suicide watch.
Julius Blood: A travesty to be sure. Much as our result to the Fairtex robots, are they from your assembly line? I would think not, you are much more animated and an intelligent model than them drone attempts at wrestlers.
Balan: Well, as our newest additions, I am sure everyone will be most anxious to greet you. Thank you for attending gentlemen.
{{The Blood Brothers disappear into the crowd, as Attila Balan nods over at Zoran Sainovic. The Mad Scientist of SWAT nods back, keeping a close eye on TripleV who apparently actually is on a suicide watch. Downing vodka like it was oxygen; Uncle Vile is talking the ears off of some of Pesci's wannabe guido hopefuls.}}
VVV: ...And they hand me Tatsuo Takeshi... ME! Like... Viper lost to Goth... he must be slipping, lets HAND HIM A VICTORY before he gets pissy... I DON'T GET PISSSSSSSSY... agism... I don't need their charity...
Lino Giufa: They clearly don't respect you... and I should know.
Tommy Lipps: ...
VVV <ignoring the mob stereotype>: ...I mean, Little Dragon and Logan Burgess might have it easier in the first round... but I wouldn't wish that three way on my ex-wife. A handicap match against ME AND MORRISSS BASSSSSS... even if they think I've lost my ssspark, that's a DEATH WARRANT to those pissssss antsss.
Lino Giufa: I'd give you 2-1 odds on Fierce over Bass if you want to make it interesting...
VVV: Fierce, pleassssssse! The gross indignities that were carried out on my character in that southern dive are NOTHING compared to how badly Bass is going to beat him. Sssee a few months ago James Fierce decided to make a pit stop at my Backyard project, even though he was under contract to ACW...
{{Back at the front...}}
Balan: Welcome James, I am glad you were able to make it early <eyeing the missing Beelzebozo sticker> we are starting to run out of good nametags. The file Bobbi gave me on you is missing some key dietary information, but we created a number of possum based dishes we hope you enjoy.
James Fierce: ...
{{The Hillbilly Assassin grabs the Alex Turner nametag off the table, is he even in ACW anymore? Fierce is banking on Roxy being too stupid to tell the difference between her long time boyfriend and him based on the nametag. It just might work. The Hillbilly Assassin V-lines around the truffle stuffed honey barbeque possum entrees and heads towards the bar...}}
VVV: ...Ssso Fierce shows up in Backyard to avenge his beard, only breaching his contract pissssssesss off Ssstefan Ssslain to NO END. It's a good thing Jimmy's used to sleeping under the stars, because he is officially in the doghoussse! You have fodder like Little Dragon and Tatsssuo Takessshi involved in this contender match, and Fierce gets MORRISSS BASSSSSS? Ssslain has his number! Morrisss Bassssss is a monster of a man! In the three-way-dance, Bassssss can RIP OFF Logan Burgessssss' head so I can shit down his throat! Have you ever tried to rip a man's head off without the assistance of a spoon? Not easy! No. After how badly Morrisss was treated by those Southern fried bastards, he's almost as burned as me. So they hand him Jimmy to toss around like a damned rag doll. Poor Jimmy. Even if the two of us weren't BEST BUDSSS, I wouldn't wish that on him. Ssslain has a real mean ssstreak...
{{That can't be true. Rather than debate the drunken Viper, Fierce turns to the ACW owner...}}
Fierce: He's just talking shit, right?
{{...}}
Stefan Slain <evil eye>: ...You KNOW you're not suppose to accept bookings from other regions!
{{OH SHIT, IT'S TRUE! Taken aback, Fierce stomps away from Slain, grabbing the truffle stuffed honey barbequed possum on his way to find Roxy.}}
Balan: The Outlaw! Thank you again for providing such a bright spot in our encounter last month, Morris! Our exchanges are almost as fond a memory as the space on my RAM that features the title win itself. Whenever you would like another shot at the championship it would be my pleasure. I hope you enjoyed the gift basket?
{{Bass looks at Balan with a confused and disgusted look on his face.}}
Morris Bass: (scoffs) Gift basket. Seriously? You think I'm a guy that likes gift baskets? There's only two kinds of people in this world that likes gift baskets: Arrogant, stuck-up pretentious pricks like yourself and anybody else in the world not named me.
{{Ignoring Bobbi's attempt at handing him a nametag, The Outlaw pushes through enhancement talent on his way over to the bar. Bass slouches over the top of the bar and frustratingly slaps his hand repeatedly on the polished wood.}}
Morris Bass: (shouts) Barkeep! Beer! Now!
{{The skinny and frail bartender pops the top off a bottle of a local IPA beer and slides it right down the bar and into the left hand of the Outlaw. Bass takes a swig out of it while looking at his reflection in the mirror, mumbling about doing something anatomically impossible with a gift basket.}}
VVV: No matter what you call the region, Morris Basssss is the scariest man in it! When we're double-teaming the crap out of Logan or Little... my ssssssssssecond dragon of the night...
Morris Bass: (chuckles) Yeah, it almost doesn't seem fair that----WHAT THE HELL?
VVV: What?
{{Turning around on his bar stool, The Devil of SWAT reveals he's wearing one of the SWAT Southern Tag Title belts. He probably picked it up bidding on a storage locker, but you never know...}}
Morris Bass: You won the Southern Tag Titles? Did I miss a friggin' memo or something? I thought that dude lost his smile or something and closed shop. How in God's green earth did you pull this off?
VVV <kind of drunk>: I win a lot of thingsss...
{{Bass looks at his long-time friend, wanting to believe him but is having difficulty doing it this time around.}}
Morris Bass: Apparently so. And it seems you went and did it without me. Wasn't I supposed to be your mystery partner? Let me guess.... TBA was the mystery partner? Who the hell was he, anyways?
VVV <finishing another vodka>: Oh... drawing a bit of a blank there myself pal... weren't you the myssstery guy? It was a great surprise...
{{Bass looks at Triple V with a look of apprehension and frustration.}}
Morris Bass: I think I would remember.
VVV: Oh than it might have been a family thing...
Morris Bass: Family?!?! I thought we (frantically pointing back and forth at himself and Vince) WERE family. That's the understanding I was led to believe. I was under the understanding that I was coming here to help you burn this place down and turn this company into ash and rebuild it in our image. And yet when you find yourself in an apparent ideal tag team situation, for gold no less, and you don't have the common courtesy to call me, nor even give me even a warning that you have this opportunity.... you want to know what I think?
{{Bass turns away and looks at back his reflection at the bar, finishing the rest of his beer.}}
Morris Bass: I think it seems like you don't want or need my help anymore.
{{Grabbing Viper's bottle of vodka, The Outlaw shoots his Italian cronies a dirty look before leaving.}}
VVV: It'sss not like that Morrissssssssssss... we're still good to turn the three-way into a handicap match though to win ME that title shot though, right? Right?
{{Bass closes his eyes and grits his teeth as he turns around and looks again at Viper.}}
Morris Bass: You know what, Vince? Screw you. Screw your cronies. Screw Balan and his gift baskets. Screw that 60-year old man that's sweet talking that STD-infested whore at the jukebox. I don't know what this bartender's name is but screw him too. I'm outta here.
{{The place, which was alive and vibrant suddenly gets quiet at Bass makes his way to the exit. He stops halfway before turning and looking back at Viper one more time.}}
Morris Bass: At least you got one thing correct, Vinny. The three-way will indeed be a handicap for someone......Partner.
{{Leaving his post on the suicide watch, Zoran Sainovic walks up to Balan.}}
ZS: I failed.
Balan: He looks all right to me.
ZS: Vile Vince Viper is a dead man walking.
Lino Giufa: Not to speak out of turn but that Beelzebozo is a bit of a lush.
{{Robotic ears on fire, Attila Balan turns to the Italian contingent as they leave wasted Viper at the bar. The complex circuitry of his brain cannot comprehend that he is the victim of a farce, unaware that these mafia stereotypes are actually speaking about Viper due to the stolen nametag.}}
Tommy Lipps: ...
Lino Giufa: For the champion to get that ubriachi? What an asshole.
{{The International champion tightens his fists, if his programming allowed him to make revenge a prime directive, the walls would be painted with Italian jobroni. Following them with his finely tuned gaze, Balan tracks them right into Buster Friendly who has finally decided to join the party.}}
Balan: Buster how could you? Please try to limit your alcohol intake, you have a title defence tonight!
Beelzebozo: You'd drink too if you had to wrestle Psychotic Goth.
{{ZING.}}
{{The Devil of SWAT faceplants into a possum based croquembouche from sheer self-loathing drinking... a possible two matches tonight you say? Now that Viper is unconscious / drowning in a dessert made out of marsupial, the rest of the crowd can finally start enjoying themselves.}}
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mosler
Special GUNS Acess
Mosler's not here man.
Posts: 2,339
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Post by mosler on Apr 24, 2023 16:34:08 GMT -5
ACW 1 Year Anniversary - April 10th, 2018
{{West Virginia.}}
{{With its cavernous mountains and rolling hills, the perfect wilds to be tamed by Industry. Stock footage of the lands majestic skylines perfectly impart the viewer with the sense of contempt that wonderful mechanical man has for this natural world. What good could come from those bubbling brooks? Logging. Mining. West Virginia is an eyesore of unkempt wilderness, but holds the base materials for so many wonderful things. Even a diamond like James Fierce can crawl out of those Appalachians, growing the legs required to survive in the real world.}}
{{The stock footage switches to the 2015 Mount Carbon train disaster. The tens of thousands of gallons of oil left to pollute the land in a pile-up of 19 railcars that would give any self-respecting NASCAR fan an erection. The intolerable beauty of the West Virginia landscape seems oddly tolerable, crushed under steel, with flames burning out the blues of the sky.}}
{{The International Title.}}
{{With the machine's rapid and meteoric rise to greatness, all statistical data pointed to a dynasty that would take SWAT into the Industrial age. Yet following his victory, gift baskets have been returned, intergender defences mock his status, an abduction scandal threatens his popularity, and subpar security allows unproven entities to interrupt his initial trials. Could the supercharged, high performance reign of steel be derailed like Mount Carbon footage playing on the screen? Can James Fierce bring the dreams of progress crashing to a halt? Or can the mechanical man somehow plough through, bulldozing through the challenger like any good Industry did with the hillbilly's home turf?}}
{{The pride that Fierce takes in his uneducated moniker has evolved out of our protagonist's core mission to better others.}}
{{Rednecks. The term United Coal Workers took on to battle for safer mining conditions. A positive self image, delivered to the backwoods of West Virginia by Industry. Yet the burning railcards continue to bleed into the screen.}}
{{The silver bridge. Aquapocalypse. Upper Big Branch mine. Hawks Nest Tunnel. The images fade in and out of the screen. West Virginia has a history of disasters as rich as the minerals that attract big business.}}
{{In challenging for the International title, James Fierce will provide another highlight of the callous indifference to human life that Industry has.}}
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mosler
Special GUNS Acess
Mosler's not here man.
Posts: 2,339
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Post by mosler on Apr 24, 2023 16:35:35 GMT -5
{{What looks like a black frame is soon peppered with tiny bursts of blue light. Panning towards the centre of these bursts reveals a much larger room, cloaked in darkness by heavy shadows. As the source of illumination becomes more consistent, the motion of the camera allows for more details of the surrounding to be identified. Hundreds of Cables cross over thousands of wires. The floor and wall are covered in these cords which converge in the centre of the room, the source of the light.}}
{{Sparks fly.}}
{{Seated in the nucleus of this industrial eyesore, with his right side to the camera, is Attila Balan. Clamps from the chair holding his head in place, the wires plugged both into the chair and him. It takes on the look of an embryo. The blue bursts come from torches around his head, as a team of scientists work over the robot like a formula one pit crew. A visor runs across the International champion's eyes}}
AB: Greetings friends. Forgive me for not facing you, but I am in the middle of having my ocular receptacles upgraded.
{{One of the scientists connects another cord into the side of the visor.}}
AB: In my most recent title defence, a victory over Tong Fairfex was prevented due to an assailant who took advantage of a weakened frame under the cover of darkness. A shrewd and efficient attack. I look forwards to discovering the identity of the attacker, so I can offer him my congratulations. ...The commendation of steel.
{{Bobbi enters the room, trying to avoid breaking an ankle as she steps along the cords in high heels.}}
AB: Not falling for the lighting ruse a second time, this newest update should increase my night vision to counter future attempts. Then to assault me without letting his name be known to the announcers or fans? What impressive bravado! Now for a venue of that size to suddenly have its lighting cut out at that exact moment, one of two things are required. Either the mystery man is wealthy enough to bribe the director Patrick into lowering the house lights at that moment; or the committee in charge of booking International title defences were down on Fairtex brothers and arranged this new threat. We all recognize the incredible talent of Tong Fairtex. His databases allege to hold more moves than my own. Astonishing. With subsequent quality challengers like James Fierce, CSK, and Daniel Collins in the works, as well as the archaic structure of the ranking system, even a wrestling machine would take six months to challenge for a title. This unit knows that from personal experience.
No, this unit's probability generator is sorry to suggest it looks like our director Patrick received a gift of money for the induction of favour. Given the high levels of integrity that this unit discovered in Patrick when I tried a similar stunt, I can only assume the attacker is a man of sufficient means.
{{If he wasn't strapped down to a futuristic looking chair, The Industrial Man would strike a pose for the following conclusion...}}
AB: Finally a foe worthy of matching wallets with!
Bobbi, make sure we have our best people investigating this wealthy thug. Zoran tells me good things about the deductive reasoning of Jessica Jones. Unfortunately Detective Conan's current priority is looking into the identity of Buster's father. I may purchase stock in Pinkerton Corporate Risk Management, but first lets see what results Jones can get us.
B: He already revealed his identity sir. The douche goes by Eric Dane.
AB: The only star?
B: ...Quality of his matches?
AB: Well this is indeed an interesting development. Eric Dane! A champion in any federation he chooses to grace with his presence. His immediate introduction into the International title scene is not even cocky. We are lucky to have him. What wonderful matches we will have together. This should be a treat for my fans. Dane is a two time hall of famer!
B: He got into same hall of fame twice?
AB: That is an unknown element in my database. One scenario sees him being so incredible a performer that the hall of fame felt he deserved to be put in it twice. The second scenario sees him placed in it twice, because they forgot they put him in the first time. Clerical errors can occur. A third scenario involves there being TWO different hall of fames, because neither is definitive enough be considered an all encompassing authority on wrestling greatness. Two of tens of thousands. To brag about such an accomplishment would border on the surreal. So while 60% probable, for the purposes of cordiality this unit chooses to believe and the acknowledge the first scenario. Two hall of fames? THAT IS FANTASTIC! This unit has little doubt that Eric Dane will grace the SWAT Hall of Fame in no time.
Eric Dane did not have to announce who he was after the attack, because EVERYONE is impeccably familiar with his work. I am surprised the announcers failed to identify him. Also troubling is the audience not acknowledging him. Has the humanoid put on weight since he was somebody?
B: Well he's full of something...
AB: Not one to throw my substantial influence around, I will not be fast tracking his title challenge. Though I am sure Dane's only star talent will be recognized by the booking committee in short order.
B: They have him taking on Psychotic Goth this week...
{{Steam shoots into the air as the visor rises along the clamps, off of Balan's head, retreating into the chair. The tubes running into the robot's spine glow green. His eyes adjusting to the new censors, it is hard to tell if the squinting is a result of focus issues or memories associated with the former ACW champion.}}
AB: ...That has a 2% chance of being a coincidence. According to Ace Scorpio, signing a person into a psychiatric facility against their will for an annual quarter without informing their next of kin constitutes illegal abduction.
B: Yeah, kidnapping. Most people see it that way.
AB: Humanoids. If that is the case, then in my attempts to cure Vampira of her various mental instabilities, I have done the Psychotic Goth a great disservice.
B: Could have been a worse disservice, the therapy didn't seem to stick, so she's still with him, boss.
AB: Intolerable. To cure Vampira's mental faculties, I shall have to insert my presence further into their sordid lives. I imagine when Goth gets around to actually viewing his recent ACW title challenge, he will have something to say about my involvement in Vampira's disappearance. If he never chooses to relive the painful memories of Buster DOMINATING him, he may still have a friend in management that will inform him of the plot. My advertising team assures me its the best possible program for half the talent involved. As a result of the revelation, there was a 97% probability that he would be the primary challenger for my international championship this cycle.
B: If Mr. Friendly can beat him, he doesn't stand a chance against you, boss.
AB: Concurred, he will be nursing a quote king size inflamed hernia ass w-hooping end quote courtesy of Buster. This could make Psychotic susceptible to a loss against the moderately wealthy Eric Dane. Dane has already shown his tenacity in the defeat of Patrick's conscience. In defeating Goth, Dane makes it very difficult to justify defending the title all cycle against our hammer pounding wrestler of the year. Unable to attempt revenge on this unit, Goth then goes back to his mutually assured destruction with Vampira.
I hope his psychotic mind can appreciate just how high the stakes are in his curtain jerking endeavour.
Part of me wishes to drop the championship belt to James Fierce, so I can continue to protect Vampira from Goth even in his spectacular failure to Dane. Unfortunately my respect for this title, as well as my own logic circuits, prevent me from doing that right thing. To think even Jax Carver saw the attempt at aid as an indiscretion on my part...........
{{More steam shoots out as the scientists remove additional tubes.}}
AB: Kidnapper. An odd association. It seems a public image repair is in order. A tarnished reputation that must be restored.
B: You look good to me.
AB: Not me. I am optimal. It was something that James Fierce implied during his charming promotional piece for tourism in West Virginia. I see the collapsing bridges, the mine disasters, the oil spills, the water pollution, the fires, and labour disputes as Industry at its finest. Molding the good people of the Appalachians into the species they are today. Evolution of a kind. It would activate my chest cavity warmer should I have one installed. Peak efficiency. Yet, Mr. Fierce sees all that in a more negative light.
It has become clear to my data processors that James Fierce did not come for my title... he came for a war.
{{The wonderful mechanical man who is a friend to all but hates nature, turns in his cord strewn seating apparatus to face the camera for the first time. Half of his body looks more robotic than usual. A red light in his eye, surrounded by a metal piece that is presumable his skull. An arm covered in strips of metal. Your first thought is of the Terminator, but then you quickly turn to a cheap ripoff of the Terminator by way of Spiderman having a kid with Deathstroke...
Attila Balan looks just like Cable.}}
AB: ...We have to rescue Deadpool.
{{Mic drop.}}
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mosler
Special GUNS Acess
Mosler's not here man.
Posts: 2,339
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Post by mosler on Apr 24, 2023 16:37:14 GMT -5
{{Exit, pursued by a bear...}}
{{Cable and the New Mutants wander down the streets of St.Mary, West Virginia.}}
{{Our mechanical protagonist uses his electronic eye focuses on the actors fleeing the large furry caniform. In choosing the Black Bear as their state animals, its almost like the good people of West Virginia were acknowledging how contemptible nature can be. Kindred spirits. Breathing a sigh of relief that their mission was such a resounding success, Cable takes in that clean mountain air. Smells a bit like mercury. Optimal. Making his way past single floor store fronts, Cable leaves the heavy lifting to his team. Cannonball and Boom Boom drag a large burlap sack behind them. The sack is struggling, the screams growing louder everytime they accidentally pull it into a fire hydrant. More disturbing than the obvious distress of the bag's contents is the lack of concern on the part of St. Mary citizens. How common a sight is this?}}
Cannonball: Zis dead fool weighs a ton...
Cable: This quote, Merc with a mouth end quote, is the main source of James Fierce's positive outlook on life. No matter how many relatives get lyme disease from the ticks, or friends that overdose on Oxycontin looking for an escape from all the trees that still litter the landscape, he will still take pride in his hillbilly persona. As long as he maintains that rose tinted attitude, he cannot hope to reclaim the killer spirit that made him a beloved assassin. He does not destroy targets, settling to amuse rather than scare. This unit has zero issue with relinquishing the championship to the Hillbilly Assassin of old, but in his current state he would treat this championship as a joke.
Boom Boom: Humor is subjective, boss.
Cable: That does not compute. James Fierce needs to understand that Deadpool is a fictional character, and the world of international contract killings, has less quips. <waving metal arm at the small town> The world he grew up in, is currently the worst state to do business in. Can you imagine? My psychological team understands why Fierce requires an alternate reality to distract himself in. They have given me the data, but it still acts as a crutch from becoming the best James Fierce he can be. According to my simulations there is a 90% chance that our actions here, removing the fantasy element that allows him to suffer this backdrop, will make him a fully functioning adult.
Cannonball: Even if ve are just killing his friend, should distract ze vite trash.
Cable: This unit does not require a lesser Fierce to achieve his objective...
Boom Boom: Protecting mutant kind, boss?
Cable: Processing. Oh. Yes. Protecting mutant kind!
Cannonball: If you vant him to live, might I suggest some air holes in ze sack?
Cable: Humanoids do that?
Boom Boom: I'll check with HR, sir.
Cable: ...How do they function?
Boom Boom <hurting her back dragging the sack>: Isn't easy.
Cable: Updating personal data base. We wish to rescue Deadpool from James Fierce's club house, not kill him. Permission granted to create oxygen stream. Recalculating. Given current location, permission granted to release the kidnap victim from safe enclosure.
Cannonball: Finally.
{{Pulling a switch blade out of his boot, the former secret police, turning wrestling mad scientist, turned young mutant that can fly through controlled explosions, cuts the sack open. A naked Ryan Gosling spills out...}}
Ryan Gosling: ...You don't know me, but I know me.
{{Boom Boom melts for the Notebook.}}
Boom Boom: Uh Boss, that ain't Deadpool...
Cable: How many people do we have to rescue from James Fierce's hillbilly heaven? Updating parameters. Have we verified that this is not Deadpool?
Ryan Gosling: Man cannot live freely without embracing suicide and crime...
Cable: They all look alike to me.
Boom Boom: Canadian leading men named Ryan?
Cable: ...affirmative.
{{Humanoids. Dawning on them that their long time employer can't tell the difference between his smoking hot personal assistant Bobbi and sociopathic bag man Sainovic, these New Mutants seem let down.}}
Cable: ERROR. We should return this Ryan unit to Fierce's base of operations, leaving him unaware of our attempts to personally better him, should we reattempt this program at a later occasion.
{{Faced with getting back into the sack, Ryan Gosling starts to run away. The wonderful mechanical man who is a friend to all but hates nature, turns to his subordinates in disappointment.}}
Cable: You had one assignment.
Boom Boom: Sorry, boss. Oh look he's coming back---
Ryan Gosling: DEMON BEAR!
{{The New Mutants scatter as Ryan Gosling charges towards them followed by another of West Virginia's state wildlife.}}
{{Exit, pursued by a bear.}}
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mosler
Special GUNS Acess
Mosler's not here man.
Posts: 2,339
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Post by mosler on Apr 24, 2023 17:03:50 GMT -5
{{In the private locker room area of Luchian Inc. Bobbi walks around members of the R&D team, visibly distressed to be holding the newest issue of "Kissing Cousins" gentleman's periodical. In the centre of the main room, "The Industrial Man" Attila Balan monitors his stocks, while on a nearby couch, Zoran Sainovic is assembling items into a large basket. Noticing the camera crew, and not wanting to be seen with the dirty rag, Bobbi is quick to throw it at Sainovic.}}
AB: Are you sure about taking the lead on this project, Dr.Sainovic? I am concerned about the adult theme it is taking on, along with its positive stance on humanoid procreation.
ZS <holding up mag>: Zeir kids vill have webbed feet. <placing the magazine in the basket> Zese picture books are all the Vest Virginians know to read. Vhen his dreams have been shattered, and Fierce is contemplating self destruction, zis vill be ze only thing keeping him from ending it all.
AB <shaking head>: Humanoids. <looking away> My team is just preparing a gift basket for James Fierce. Thanking the Hillbilly Assassin for creating the best possible match for showcasing the International title. Unfortunately the rules of the contest will not allow us both to be victors, but with the thought and care being put into this consolation prize, the unit believes it has a 10% chance of softening the blow.
{{Sainovic wedges the incest magazine between some baby possum risotto, and some pickled hog testicles which might be a form of soap. Walmart coupons. To the people of West Virginia, these are better than cash. Lumps of coal. Feared by children around Jesus' birthday, but to the Hillbilly Assassin a practical source of heat, and sense of civic pride. These are Kentucky coal, but Sainovic is pretty sure that Fierce won't be able to tell the difference. Unless he has sex with them.}}
AB: This unit could not be more excited about our contest this evening. After Tong failed to live up to his impressive moveset, it will be nice to christen the Industrial age with a contest worthy of my operating parameters. As an added bonus, going into the Anzac Cup as the International champion teaming with the ACW Heavyweight champion creates a firm statement about our upcoming dominance.
{{Toilet paper. It has to be a rare treat in West Virginia to use processed paper instead of a a fistful of roadkill. Sainovic places a roll of TP into the gift basket. What the hell, Attila Balan is rich, make it two rolls.}}
AB: Now my simulator expects you to put up a much greater fight for the international title, than Vincent will for the heavyweight strap... but victory is assured. It will be nice to bring some precious metals into my upcoming contest with The Psychotic Goth. Proving himself as unfit to be champion as he is to be in Vampira's life, Goth was unable to both retain or recapture the ACW championship from Buster. Audio records show that Goth credits this unit with Buster's victory. Toxicology reports will indicate that Goth is off his medication, which is the only explanation my processor can find to recognize these false statements. Buster Friendly is not a better wrestler than you, Goth; just as Vampira deserve to be with you. All relevant data indicates its time for you to up your medication.
{{Headcheese. Roach traps. A VHS copy of Bovines in heat. Fierce could retire longer than Kilroy Evans with the riches Zoran Sainovic is shoving into the basket.}}
AB: I have increased my parameters, so that our program might better you. Normally my directives require me to make my opponents the best versions of themselves they can be... in your case Psychotic, we will consider even the most basic improvement to be a step in the right direction. What does Vampira see in you? This is an unknown factor. Psychotic, this unit does not require its probability generator to inform you, that you will lose. It is statistically impossible for you to obtain the championship. All that can be accomplished is permanent damage to your substandard frame, and Vampira to think less of you. If I knew personal desire, I would look forwards to it.
{{Balan starts to scan the gift basket for Fierce. Fentanyl laced hydrocodone. Realizing that the boss might not appreciate his creative flourishes, Sainovic attempts to distract him.}}
ZS: Much like zese consolation gifts, us humanoids like positive news mixed into our oppressively negative facts.
AB: What a complicated species.
ZS: Like a machine...
AB: I wish. Psychotic. Do not let my practical discussion of your chances lower your mental health. There is good news. Stefan Slain has announced this championship will be put up for grabs in a Slain Asylum for the event after the Anzac Cup. Even in the unlikely event that Buster and myself face you and Little Dragon, who we will crush, there are multiple events between now and when we inevitably setting this in a one on one scenario. That allows months for you to strengthen the psychological barriers that allow you to function. When we meet, this unit will tear through your fragile ego with a titanium grip, but you have been granted a lengthy stay of execution. Unlike poor Fierce.
{{Seeing his window closing, Zoran throws in a pair of I <3 Donald speedos and gift card to Kmart to wrap up this Hillbilly Heaven.}}
AB: Thank you Zoran, for brightening up Fierce's day, even in his moment of total defeat.
{{The marvellous mechanical man who is a friend to all, but hates nature, nods down at his manager before turning back to his stock options.}}
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mosler
Special GUNS Acess
Mosler's not here man.
Posts: 2,339
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Post by mosler on Apr 24, 2023 17:06:17 GMT -5
SWAT Anzac Cup 2018 - April '18
{{Virus.}}
0100010100110010010101010101010101010100101010100101010101ihateschool010101010000101010101010010101001010 1010010100111111111001010010101010101010001010011101001010100101010101010101010101011101001001001000101 0101000000010001000101000100100001000000010000010000000001000010010001000100000100001000100010001000010 0101101001010010001001111000010100101001000001000.01001001001001101010101010101010101010010.001010101010 1001000100010001010010010001000000100010000100001000000010000001000010000100110000001000100101000100000 0000100010010001000000000000100000000>hackedbychinese010100010101000000000100011000010100010001001001000 1000100100000010000100010101000000100010000010001000000100001000010010100001000010010010010010001001001 0100101010010100010101010101000010010100100101010101010101010101010100101001010100101010101001010001001 01110001010001010101010101execute.loveletter001010101010101010000010001000100000010000101000010000010000001 1000001010101101010101010010101010001001000100001000010001000010100001000100100101001010101010101010010 00010010101010101010101thereisaworminyou01010101010001010101001010101010100101010101010101010101010101001 100101010101itscrawlingout010010100101011110001010100010101fatalerror###############################
> access: main security access: permission denied... and...
YOU DIDN'T SAY THE MAGIC WORD! YOU DIDN'T SAY THE MAGIC WORD! YOU DIDN'T SAY THE MAGIC WORD! YOU DIDN'T SAY THE MAGIC WORD! YOU DIDN'T SAY THE MAGIC WORD! YOU DIDN'T SAY THE MAGIC WORD! YOU DIDN'T SAY THE MAGIC WORD! YOU DIDN'T SAY THE MAGIC WORD! YOU DIDN'T SAY THE MAGIC WORD! YOU DIDN'T SAY THE MAGIC WORD! YOU DIDN'T SAY THE MAGIC WORD! YOU DIDN'T SAY THE MAGIC WORD! YOU DIDN'T SAY THE MAGIC WORD! YOU DIDN'T SAY THE MAGIC WORD! YOU DIDN'T SAY THE MAGIC WORD! YOU DIDN'T SAY THE MAGIC WORD! YOU DIDN'T SAY THE MAGIC WORD! YOU DIDN'T SAY THE MAGIC WORD! YOU DIDN'T SAY THE MAGIC WORD! YOU DIDN'T SAY THE MAGIC WORD! YOU DIDN'T SAY THE MAGIC WORD!
{{Full systems check required.}}
{{The Industrial Man floats around in a small metallic chamber filled with a light blue sludge that seems to be revitalizing the fleshy tissue that covers his titanium frame. Despite the best efforts of the KGB, The International Champion will have the perfect sheen of a model straight off the factory line. Scientists stare through a small window, checking on the Luchian Inc. CEO's condition. There is a sudden jerk, before the mechanical marvel emerges from the fluid, his orbital receptacles opening for the first time in days.}}
AB: Please.
{{Electric sheep.}}
{{A nude Attila Balan emerges from the chamber, carefully arranged shadows manage to obscure his genitals in an act of lighting straight out of the Terminator. The wonderful mechanical man who is a friend to all but hates nature, is quick to cover up the wretched human form; pulling on a gun metal grey robe. Electronic doors slide open, as he enters a larger room covered in monitor displays. The majority of the screens deal with footage from the recentest series of ACW events. The most popular wrestler in SWAT cannot wait to purge these random access memories.}}
"...The fans are booing him."
{{Realizing that their cold metallic employer has made an appearance, the scientists reviewing the footage are quick to put it on mute.}}
AB: Inconceivable.
{{Turning his back on the ACW stream, The International Champion makes his way over to a smaller station with more abstract images. Freeze frames from Jurassic Park in binary code. The worm is burrowing through the skull.}}
AB: The Shootfighter may not have had the skills required to retain an announce position, but his offspring may have made a peculiar insight. Note - have psychological profiles of Team Fairtex sent to our medical R&D department, specifically as it relates to the divergent cognitive abilities of the severely autistic when diagnosing abnormalities in code.
{{The closest employee to Balan smiles. Its that calm detachment to the rights of the mentally handicap weighed against scientific discovery that make Attila Balan such an inspirational figure to work for.}}
AB: Tong Fairtex continues to suggest that this unit is suffering from a virus. Coming from Bangkok, it is a subject that he should be an expert in. My core processors continue to dismiss this as a rudimentary insult, almost as insipid as Vincent's bucket of bolts slander.
010010101001001010100010001001001011001010110001010101010101010100001010010010100101010010010101001001010100010001001001011001 010110001010101010101010100001010010010100101010010010101001001010100010001001001011001010110001010101010101010100001010010010100 101010010010101001001010100010001001001011001010110001010101010101010100001010010010100101010010010101001001010100010001001001011 001010110001010101010101010100001010010010100101010thewormturns010010101001001010100010001001001011001010110001010101010101010100 001010010010100101010010010101001001010100010001001001011001010110001010101010101010100001010010010100101010
I DUNNO CHIEF... HE'S EITHER VERY SMART... OR VERY DUMB.
{{The abstract images now include a gif from Jaws.}}
AB: What if there is something to this virus hypothesis? Since the Atlantic Coast region went into its sabbatical at the close of its 2017 fiscal year, Syndicate Wrestling And Tradition has been less than due diligent in new subsidiaries formed, talent evaluated, or locations secured. The closest analogy I can equate to Southern States, Backyard, Xtreme West Coast, Midwest, and New Atlantic Coast... would be unprotected sexual intercourse at a glory hole at the zoo. It is quite amazing that the entire SWAT roster has not succumb to exhaustion and pustules over these management errors. There is a 0.001% chance that this unit could also have been compromised by association, at least from a credibility perspective.
So what is the argument for this unit having contracted a virus, and the timeline of its infection?
At the sole Southern States event, this unit won the International championship. It should be mentioned that this was an inevitability based on previous performances that had led to a 30% increase in popularity, that had only been delayed by a rankings system that only recognizes the top contender status of performers that have been with the company since its inception. Despite winning the championship, the match has been largely recognized as one of the worst in the history of SWAT not featuring Team Fairtex or Syberius. With the reigning champion bowing out first, this unit was forced to wrestle an out of shape Morris Bass in past prime condition and unproven Tatsuo Takeshi who proved that his manager was not the only member of his organization that was green. After substantial efforts to revitalize the company and become a contender, my victory cut the legs out from under the championship before this unit had even commenced its reign. Further insult was added by the former champion in full poor sportsman mode, whose Family made allegations of misconduct on my part. Nothing actionable, but enough to taint this Industrial Age.
Hoping to correct the tragic trajectory of this championship run, this unit had optimal simulations plotted for its first defence.
Such scenarios were dampened with the announcement that it would be against you, Tong.
Team Fairtex. For all your accomplishments elsewhere, in the SWAT you remain the wretched excess of a family with too many members. Your names are frequently used to promote the federation's championship pedigree, based on a fluke victory this time last year. Having reviewed the visual data on file, it becomes apparent that Dan Stein, Cobryn, Hunglestein, Rally Jackson, and the rest of the name talent, appeared to collect a cheque. In a tournament with no heart, you proved yourselves to be breathing. Also interesting is the exact same breakdown of contract talent being insulated, while the recently signed and outsider threats are relegated to a far table. History, like any productive function, repeats itself in a loop. Yet not for you.
As a challenger, Tong, you represent that portion of the rankings that find themselves in title contention based on the sheer length of their time spent, rather than any actual merit. Marcus White was actually more deserving of a shot.
Even if my first defence was against a lesser opponent, through performance this unit could win back the crowd. A clean win would clear the rumours that the Family had started, and reinvigorate my simulated passion for this federation.
Unfortunately, Stefan Slain had other plans. Having been on vacation since undermining the companies credibility, Slain returned rested but felt he needed to reboot the company to scratch. A theme that will continue with the upcoming Slain Asylum, dedicated to removing Funny Business from the title picture. His first act of aggression, however, was dimming the lights in my first defence. Saving Tong from a clean loss, because a part time tag worker needs to have his credibility protected; and introducing unknown element Eric Dane into the title picture... just not in a matter that clearly identified Dane. So even while trying to frustrate this unit into departing, the non-finishes are handled with an amateur touch. If my perception module has been corrupted by a virus, that would explain everything, because if what I just described actually occurred, SWAT would have to be haemorrhaging assets.
To save your face, Tong, the Industrial Age was put into a state of entropy. Cause and effect. Buster and myself will now have to tear through last year's winners like they were tissue paper.
Subsequent defences have included a count out loss to Roxy, and a victory over James Fierce in which I have been informed the audience jeered me. That can only be the work of a virus. An unbalanced announce team with a KGB supporter putting himself over, while his partner fails to offer a differing opinion, might also lend itself to a skewed perspective, but there could also be something to this virus hypothesis. So Tong, you can name off all your competition with a charming Hell's Bouncer impression, ignoring the fact that his listing style is universally reviled. Give lengthy interviews on your opinions of Brocode and Rank & File, teams you will never get the chance to meet. Yes we are in a tournament with 28 other stars, but you will never see them. There is only one team that you should be concerning yourself with. One team.
See to get rid of my virus, this unit will have to perform a reset. I could harvest Timeless for the ability to traverse time, but it is much easier to reboot this unit to an earlier time.
That time is seconds before Eric Dane saved you from being exposed as the mid card tag specialist the SWAT fans know you to be.
Which bring us to the Anzac Cup. First round. First match.
Funny Business. Team Fairtex.
Last year's winners taking on the team of the International and ACW champions.
Outside of the tournament as a whole, this unit has been given a second chance at that elusive REBOOT.
01001010010101001001
...You are going to get pinned Tong.
0101010001010010001001000101001000100010010
Dane cannot save you.
01010000101000010100001010001011100101010011101000100
Your brother cannot save you.
0101010001000100001001000010100100100101010111001011101011100001001001001001
Your father cannot save you.
011001000100010001001000100101010101001010010101010010101010100010101011001010001110010100100101
Your entire family cannot prevent this from happening.
00000101000000010000000000000010000100010001100000000100001000001001000001000010101000010100010001000010001
Even your friend, Psychotic Goth will be unable to prevent your first round demise.
0000000000000000000100000000000000000010000000000010010000000000000100000000010000000010000001000000001000000010000100
As this unit REJECTS the virus, so too will the Anzac tournament REJECT you.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000010000000000000000000010000000000000000
{{Turning his back on the camera, The Industrial Man stares down at an abstract image.}}
{{Virus.}}
{{The worm digs deeper into the brain of an...}}
{{Electric sheep.}}
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mosler
Special GUNS Acess
Mosler's not here man.
Posts: 2,339
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Post by mosler on Apr 24, 2023 17:12:16 GMT -5
{{Racing to the show...}}
{{JUST OUTSIDE THE ARENA'S PARKING LOT...}}
{{...you know, in the ocean.}}
{{Smooth sailing.}}
{{A two hundred foot super yacht cuts across the raging sea...}}
{{Heading towards the Anzac Cup in style.}}
{{Rain beats down on the windows. Behind the wheel of this leviathan is the wonderful mechanical man who is a friend to all but hates nature... so what the hell is he doing in the middle of the ocean?}}
{{The Devil of SWAT almost falls over the side of the railing as he violently throws up. Barely able to stand upright, the king of snakes slithers into the control room of the behemoth. Almost falling over as the waves sway the vessel, Vile finds a nice corner in the spacious room, leaning against it in pain. Using a snakeskin sleeve to wipe the sick from his monstrous maw, Vile runs a claw to slick back his drenched hair, flopping back into a seated position.}}
AB: Has your condition improved, Vincent?
VVV: Don't call me, Vin... Vin... ugh...
{{The 2018 Royal Rumble winner gags, a shell of a shell of a man.}}
AB: It is unfortunate you do not possess functional sea legs. We can give you an upgrade.
VVV: Yeah, yeah... I don't do open watersss. We all have our kryptonite. Brocode's achilles heel is me fucking their mothers. I don't like sssailing. Whose to say which is worssse? Me shoving my twenty-four inch python through Calum Morgan's mother's eye socket, then giving Paul Blair's dear sweet gummy mum a golden shower.... or the insufferable waves crashing against the deck. Fucking wavesss. The up and down motion of this boat in the water, or the up and down motion of my wrinkled old ass as a THRUST into Frostbite's wife? <aside> Which is a ride very much like the Kingda Ka roller coaster... there's an obscenely long lineup to get on her, she's as big as a fucking mountain, and you kind of feel like throwing up both during and afterwards. <back> Running water. I know I look invincible, but I have many of the same weaknesses as Dracula. So spare me your upgrade offering sympathy, you bucket of boltsss!
{{If the robot could feel emotions, Balan would definitely be enjoying Old Scratch's discomfort.}}
AB: If this experience is so painful for you, Vincent, why did you accept this unit's transportation offer?
VVV <spit>: And MISSSSSSSSS one of your "invite all the boys on a road trip to look like a locker room leader in an effort to garner votes in popularity contests, when you're really just using them to put yourself over the competition" promotional videos? Perisssh the thought!
L U C H I A N
I N C .
P R E S E N T S
" S A I L
A L O N G "
{{The miserable old bastard waves his claw at the entire SWAT roster that has been brought onto this party cruise!}}
{{...except the massive vessel is empty.}}
{{Vile swoons.}}
{{...}}
{{BACK! Coming to his senses, Viper finds himself popping dramamine like it was krokodil.}}
VVV <dramamine falling out of his mouth as he sneers at the empty room>: WHERE THE HELL ISSS EVERYONE?
AB: You were the only person that this unit extended an invitation to, Vincent. Forcing a hundred men into a four foot vehicle appeals more to Buster's unique sense of humour. We had pushed that gag to its limit. Our psychological department has discovered that the concept of "tired antics" is foreign to you. With any luck you can download this knowledge over the course of our three hour tour?
{{Lightning flashes.}}
AB: Besides, my interest in those segments is the interactions of different SWAT personalities that normally do not engage one another, displaying the diverse face of the federation. However, inspecting the talent pool involved reveals that this is the face of another. Many members of the SWAT proper roster, including much of the tag division, and this unit's current target, Psychotic Goth, could not make the cut. Instead the tournament features a number of characters who had previously failed to make their mark in SWAT, including your opponent Enigmatic Creature, Frostbite, and Eric Herrera. These have been supplemented by a number of part timers, retirees, and outside tag teams to give it an international feel. That sounds like an unsavoury experiment, but fortunately SWAT is paying for it to take place in the ring, so it would be redundant for Luchian to generate an independent report.
It is just us, Vincent.
{{Thunder.}}
VVV <infamous sneer>: Peachy.
AB: If our research had covered your aversion to sailing, we could have flown.
VVV <spitting>: Funny how that flew under the radar...
AB: Our investigators are usually so thorough.
VVV <snarl>: I'm really looking forwards to kicking your asssssssesss.
AB: There is a 15% chance you will encounter Team Fairtex in the second round instead.
VVV <having run out of dramamine, is now rocking krokodil like its going out of style>: That high? Fucking halfwitsss.
AB: They appear to be legally {Mongo Edit: Nah we don't say that anymore}.
VVV <tries to stand up, nope, bad idea>: I meant the booking committee. Who came up with these obscene brackets? Phoenix... Pesci... your first match of the night is last year's champions getting buried by the odds on favourites to lose to me in the finals? OR god forbid Goth shows up to protect them, making the ACW, International, and Twinstar champs look like shit. Its like Ssshootfighter has pictures of his dick in Ssstefan Ssslain'sss mouth to ensure his wretched family tree continues to grow like a cancer. How did these fucktards win last year?
AB: Stars involved included Dan Stein.
VVV: ...So they stacked it with a bunch of retirees, who phoned it in, letting the only active tag team in the federation coast through. Well at least they didn't learn anything from last year. Its nice to stay consistent. Have you ever heard Tong talk about how many moves he knows? The kid puts the idiot in savant. Then going to the Hell's Bouncer school of listing off every single team involved in the tournament without really saying anything about them. Then pump out more material than anyone else, without any real substance. I always think its funny that Fairtex come out of the Ssshootfighter school, but of the thousand moves they know, there isn't a hell of a lot of mixed martial arts. So where is the connection? <pearly yellows> Well they like taking the ENTERTAINMENT out of the sport. <smile fades> Fifteen percent chance to win? FUCK THAT SHIT. SERIOUSLY, you worthless bastards are MY tag team champions... DO NOT lose to these clownsssssssssssss.
AB: An interesting choice of insult.
VVV <waving down with a hand>: You know what I mean. Don't take it the wrong way. <shrug> I just think so little of the Fairtex boys that they remind me of your suicidal pet project.
AB: Buster really took the betrayal by Spike to heart.
VVV <massive shit eating grin>: Did he? <can barely contain excitement> That's horrible.
AB: This unit should extend its gratitude for pushing Buster to his breaking point.
VVV: Hey, if you're trying to write me out of this tournament by puking my guts out on this fucking boat, the least I can do is get your partner committed. Without Spike to manage him, Beelz is going to have to watch all those Psssychotic Goth promos himself. Its a death sentence! Man... Spike was a great surprise. You ever clue into it? I was surprised you never offered him a contract.
AB: Everyone was aware of his identity, Vincent.
VVV: Get the fuck out of here.
AB: Worst kept secret in SWAT.
VVV <waving him off>: Screw you. You're just jealousss. HUGE SSSURPRISSSE PARTNER - and the two of us our going to run through you asshole on our way to winning the whole stupid thing. Unlike the last victors, we'll actually make the cup ressspectable. First step is losing the whole Australian vet angle with the name. Talk about lame. The dirty dozen made army convicts popular, Australia... not so much.
AB: Your storyline is not going to work, Vincent.
VVV: ...No one can beat us. It looks like the FreakAngelsss in the finals... back when me and Spike were in the Frank, Carpenter and Phoenix were nothing.
AB: It is not the Frank A. Marano Memorial Cup, Vincent.
VVV: Nah. Unlike that piece of shit, Better than Sssex is WINNING this one. Making Anzac the BETTER tournament... once we change the title.
AB: Irrelevant. The better tournament is not a factor. In your scenario, you make up for a decade of neglect by winning a tag tournament with your grand progeny. Turner does not enjoy your antics. You cannot turn back time. This tournament is NOT that tournament. You will never be able to win the match. Hardkore Johnny will ALWAYS politic you out of your victory. This trauma cannot be changed. Your paternal skills cannot be upgraded. Every team involved in the Anzac tournament has a backstory to justify their journey through the night, but yours is inherently flawed. You have to adapt.
VVV: And I suppose sad clown and anal retentive robot get given even more gold to be sitting duck champs with is the story to go with?
AB: Our tale involves personal redemption in the face of crippling despair, through the cold friendship of steel. It is optimal.
VVV: Keep telling yourself t---
AB: Team Fairtex. The unique skills of tag team wrestlers against makeshift singles. Viva Le Revolution. The maddening good will of SWAT management, hope to make seven times a charm. The KGB. A broken stable, crawling back against all odds, despite the minuscule amount of time since their epic implosion. Hell's Bouncer and Drimstone. Younger talent taking a stand to prove XWCW deserved a chance. All teams have devised unique scenarios, not all are as compelling, but they are feasible... unlike Better Than Sex. For your sake, I hope your tournament exit comes at the hands of myself and Buster, as our psychiatric team feels that would be easier for you to digest.
VVV <pulling out some more drugs to help with his motion sickness, probably>: Lose to you assholes? How high are you. Actually <handing over some whoonga> here... this will help... didn't Fairtex say you were suffering from AIDSSS?
AB: They suggested I had a virus. A computer virus. Which is probable. However, upon acknowledging that my system may be compromised, they switched their suggestion to a biological ailment. Rather tasteless. Unfortunately it is hard to come back with venereal diseases they could be afflicted with, without seeming insensitive to their Bangkok origins.
VVV <taking the whoonga himself>: So tell me... you hate this nature ssshit. Why the hell are we on a boat?
AB: That would appear to be related to the code negatively effecting my system.
VVV: Trying to crash through the coral reef? Or what... you're hot for nature now? Some Industrial Man you turned out to be...
AB: Oh, but I'm not the Industrial Man, matey.
{{Lightning crashes.}}
VVV: Come again...
{{Thunder. Turning away from the wheel, Attila Balan is wearing a patch over his eye.}}
AB: Ya lily livered landlubber...
{{Pulling out a sword, the virus affecting the robot's processing matrix seems to have transformed him into a pirate.}}
{{Fuck yeah.}}
VVV <crawling towards the deck, still too dizzy to walk>: Fuck this.
AB <nervous tick>: Ya think you can disrespect me hearties, and get away with it YE BILGE RAT?
{{Vile falls out onto the deck, while the extremely wealthy robot philanthropist turned cut throat mercenary of the sea follows him with a limp.}}
VVV: This isn't backyard... keep that wressssssssstlecrap ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssshit away from me!
{{The lightning flashes again, illuminating a wooden plank that has been bolted to the side of the super yacht. Making out its form, Vile swallows hard, before turning back towards the outstretched sword.}}
AB: Yer days of given orders be over, snake. I ain't yer Industrial Man...
{{At the point of the sword, the king of snakes starts to crawl towards the plank.}}
{{Lightning.}}
AB: I AM THE CAPTAIN OF INDUSTRY!!!
{{Thunder.}}
{{A massive wave hits the side of the ship, covering the lens in water before Vile can be forced to his death.}}
{{Smooth sailing.}}
{{The amazing video effects that can be achieved in Luchian Inc.'s large dressing room.}}
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mosler
Special GUNS Acess
Mosler's not here man.
Posts: 2,339
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Post by mosler on Apr 24, 2023 17:18:01 GMT -5
#KNOCK#
#KNOCK#
#KNOCK#
[SWAT's resident mad scientist opens The Luchian Inc. dressing room door, only to be greeted by the moronic smile of his archenemy. The 2018 SWAT Feud of the year can be tracked here and here and here and here and here... what will the next exciting instalment of this grizzly grudge entail?]
Spike Nelson: Evening professor!
Zora Sainovic: Caribou.
[The door slams in Spike's face.]
#KNOCK# #KNOCK# #KNOCK#
[The door swings open again, this time Sainovic is prepared - blasting a steady stream of pepper spray which Spike Nelson manages to matrix under, letting his grandfather take the full brunt of the blast. Fortunately, The Devil of SWAT is immune at this point. As VVV tries to position his head so that the refreshing beverage goes down his gullet, a defeated Sainovic stops.]
"Who is it?"
[Sighing, Sainovic turns out of the doorway, shifting back towards the massive room, where the Luchian Inc. CEO is currently recovering in a vat of green sludge.]
Zoran Sainovic: Better Zan Sex...
Vile "Vince" Viper: WITH Vile Viper and his Spike Nelssson... you still a pirate?
AB: That programming has been purged. Come in, Vincent. To what do we owe this honour, gentlemen?
[The future ANZAC Cup winners push past the furious scientist into the large cavernous room full of Luchian staff...]
Spike Nelson: I'm in the middle of setting a record...
Vile "Vince" Viper <putting a claw on Spike's shoulder to slow down the conversation>: Well it looks like we're in the finals of the tournament, Balan... and the thing is... we were kind of expecting to be taking on FreakAngels, or Noodle Incident... I had a lot of material lined up for them. Given our Frank history, I was kind of hoping for FreakAngels. Hell, I have quite a few BroCode jokes... at least they were a real team... but wouldn't you know it, Timelesssssss and CSSSK managed to sneak past all of them.
AB: There was a 42% chance of their inclusion in the finals, which is an impressive number given the quality of their field. This unit has had a number of interactions with the cyborg Alex Turner, who the company could easily be built around, while CSK is the unsung cornerstone of Atlantic Coast phase one. If my data processors allowed for personal pleasure, I would greatly enjoy seeing the two of them kick your gluteus maximus muscles. Unfortunately, I do not have that functionality, so must remain silent on the subject.
Vile "Vince" Viper <checking out Bobbi>: That's great, Balan. Realistic goalsss.
AB: What record is the Nelson humanoid currently attempting to capture?
Spike Nelson: KOOCHIMOOCH ~ its going to get me in Guinness, Attila, see I am---
Vile "Vince" Viper <turning from Bobbi to again cut Spike off>: SEE... I'm having a hard time coming up with material for the make-shift moronsss... and I thought, what if they had a team name? That would certainly make the processssssss easssier. So we're brain storming names for the chumpsss... we were going with anagrams using their last names...
[The greatest tag team in the known universe make their way to the centre of spectacle, which is set up like the Wizard of Oz's throne room...]
Spike Nelson: The one I wanted was--- Trendy Reek Nun!
Vile "Vince" Viper: But I didn't want Roxy tainting our victory by using it as a platform to popularize religiousss fart porn. At least not outside Backyard. Ssso I sssaysss... what friend of ours has a massive entourage that probably includes a marketing department to help Timeless and CSK sound like a real team worthy of getting murdered by usss?
[The Cheap Heat Machine flashes the large crowd his pearly yellows.]
AB: If having Frank Salazar call out this unique name in victory softens the blow of your defeat, my company shall be complicit in easing your pain.
Marketer #1: The Three Two. Both men have three names. There are two of them. The Three two.
Marketer #2: Dark Horses. No one thought they could make it. The equine imagery makes people think Stallions, majestic, untamed, running wild. The dark also gives them a light sense of malice, because they are basically horrible people, they just aren't that horrible compared to everyone else in SWAT.
Marketer #3: TGB.
Spike Nelson: The garbage bin?
Marketer #3: Time Global Bandits...
Vile "Vince" Viper: I can see why you pay these clowns the big bucksss...
AB: Pay them... our temporary marketing department is located two rooms over.
Zoran Sainovic: Ve zought zese imbeciles vere vith you.
[The fake marketing department race off.]
AB: We really need to increase security by 17%. Feel free to use the professionals next door, Vincent. Nelson humanoid, other than breaking poor Buster's heart, what has you so excited?
Spike Nelson: I'm about to set the record for ribs!
Vile "Vince" Viper <trying to pull him towards the exit>: Ssspike, we still need---
AB: Congratulations Nelson! You are definitely out performing the parameters that this unit placed on yo---
Spike Nelson: By defecating in bags! This was the last room----suckers!!!!!!!!!
[Pulling out another copy of the bluray "The Best of Psychotic Goth Vol. 1" Simply Amazing throws the cursed disc at their host. Fortunately for the robot, Spike has deceptively bad hand-eye coordinations - no doubt from standing too close to his Tori Vale poster for decades. The throw is off, missing Balan's rejuvenation chamber completely. Zoran Sainovic almost gets hit in the face...]
Spike Nelson: SUCKERS!!!!!
[Simply Amazing starts to break dance, before realizing that security is moving in for the kill. Better Than Sex start to flee the giant dressing room...]
Zoran Sainovic <holding eye in agony>: I almost read ze back cover...
[Greatest grudge ever!]
AB: Nelson humanoid... Spike.
[As Better Than Sex reach the exit, Spike stops as the robot calls out his name.]
AB: He is just using you. You know that he---
Vile "Vince" Viper: SSSSSSSpike! It just dawned on me that your incredible dance moves have been responsible for our last two winsss!
Spike Nelson <turning away from Balan>: Have they?! SCHOOCHIMUNGA!
Vile "Vince" Viper <forced smile>: Do you think you can teach ME how to breakdance?
Spike Nelson: Can I Grandpa!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?! THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Vile "Vince" Viper <shooting Balan an evil look>: Thanksss Spike! We didn't need their help anyway...
[Better Than Sex exits out into the safety of the hallway...]
Vile "Vince" Viper: ...The name of our enemies is obviousss... Roxy makes them HOT... while CSSSK and Timelesssssss are GARBAGE...
[As security follow, Spike starts to moon walk away, only he moves forwards...]
Vile "Vince" Viper: Ssso the only thing that stands between Better Than Sex and the Anzac Cup... the team of HOT GARBAGE...
[It has a ring to it...]
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mosler
Special GUNS Acess
Mosler's not here man.
Posts: 2,339
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Post by mosler on Apr 24, 2023 17:23:45 GMT -5
Turmoil Philadelphia, Pennsylvania - May 2018
{{Steel screams out in pain as it buckles under the hammer's will. The perfect symmetry of the square form is maligned by spools of barbwire. Fiercely sharp cord wrapped through every opening, reinforcing the structure while adding an almost organic element. Weaving the dangerous strands in and out of the bars with no recognizable pattern. The dangerous material may shred humanoid flesh, yet it is inconsistencies in distribution and directions that disturbs the machine. A natural element to an unnatural horror. This error is soon repeated twice more, with each construct getting smaller. Less room to maneuver in for the flesh. Closer to the core issue for the program.}}
{{The Age of Industry.}}
{{Workers quickly assemble the terror known as the Slain Asylum in the middle of a private arena. Standing in the shadow of the mean looking edifice, the marvellous mechanical man who is a friend to all but hates nature, contemplates the various scenarios that can play out in his next International title defence. Will the Industrial Age have a chance to flourish in its wake, or like Balan's arena, is it doomed to be mothballed and picked up by the private sector. There is much riding on the Asylum's outcome.}}
{{Searching memory logs for existing data on the International title.}}
AB: After winning a one night tournament that saw him defeat SWAT great CSK in the finals, the previous title holder would go on to successfully retain the championship belt against Adrian Tanner, Alex Turner, and Kilroy Evans. Noted talents within the organization. Critical consensus acknowledges these matches as a quality standard to judge the rest of the company by. With these defences, the champion both cemented his own reputation, while defining the belt's prestige.
This unit was able to wrestle away that title in a match that, owing to other participants, did not achieve its normal level of success. Although this unit was able to dispatch the champion cleanly, the presence of lesser elements leave a 15% uncertainty about my inevitable victory. In the following months, no efforts were made by management to give the initial champion a shot at his prize, or this unit a chance to rectify that percentage of doubt. Even in another contest featuring multiple challengers, the unit known as Daniel Collins is oddly absent.
Daniel Collins. Luchian Incorporate would like to issue an apology for the handling of <raising International title> your legacy since you relinquished it. Our marketing department has confirmed that the lack of Dark Phoenix will lower the Slain Asylum's renown by 34%. This is unfortunate. The Industrial Age requires a reboot in a similar manner to your mythological namesake. It is counterproductive to this concept's own reignition. Executing all orders of old business in one contest would allow for a stronger focus on new works.
{{Removing the International Title from his chest cavity, Attila Balan turns from the Slain Asylum to look down on the championship.}}
AB: It appears that one legacy code will be allowed to linger, but the remainder of the obsolete threads will be purged.
When this unit first started operating with Syndicate Wrestling And Tradition, its debut proved unsuccessful, falling 10% percent short of victory as dear Buster picked off a weaker opponent. This is part of a theme.
Halloween Cup. Runner-up.
Royal Rumble. Final elimination.
Anzac Cup. Felled by the eventual winners.
Heavily involved in all major SWAT events. Building a reputation of being second best.
The Slain Asylum is the next major achievement in the SWAT calendar.
This time it will be different. This time... The Industrial Age will not be denied.
{{Resting the International title over his shoulder, Attila Balan turns back to his own private Slain Asylum.}}
AB: Viewing these second place finishes, one must wonder if the International championship is secondary to the Atlantic Coast heavyweight title. Both belts being put on the line in this menacing construct. An opportunity to take both championships home? Not at all. My dear friend, Buster Friendly, is that Atlantic Coast champion. The Atlantic Coast is where Luchian performs its wrestling related research and experiments. There is no better face for the Atlantic brand than Buster Friendly. We will protect Buster's interests.
Funny Business is going into the Slain Asylum as champions. Funny Business will exit the same way.
It is not to offend Atlantic Coast when my parameters are set to capture the International title. It is the only logical course of action for my marketing campaigns redemption.
You have heard the many exploits of Daniel Collins with the belt. Title defences by the Industrial Man include a non-finish against Tong Fairtex, thanks to Eric Dane. Much like Collins, it would be efficient if Fairtex was featured in the Slain Asylum to correct erroneous data. Efforts were made to put Tong in his place, only to have revised line-ups protect him. Access denied. Along with the favour of Stefan Slain for a late entrance, Eric Dane can also enjoy a receipt for his cowardly attack.
Following Tong, a worthier challenger was obtained in redneck supreme, James Fierce. This contest also enjoyed substantial outside interference that left many fans questioning if Fierce should indeed have been the new champion. An objective of this encounter is rectifying these erroneous conclusions with a definitive victory over the Hillbilly Assassin. The quality of his character is in line with the men that Collins vanquished, and would help restore the International title's image by 20%.
Defeating nine other men is the soft reboot my championship run requires.
Or will it be seven?
James Fierce must face an uphill battle against three humanoids. None of which are made out of wool. The recently returning Marty Donovan brings marquee value to the contest, should he shake off the ring rust against impressive newcomer Matthew Mullins. Viper must put down a man that few of the actual Asylum participants could, in Daniel Collins. At this point it is unknown if Psychotic Goth is also facing the same stipulation. Will Stefan Slain allow him to participate after his defeat to Dave Brickheart?
Psychotic Goth.
You claim to have gotten into my cerebral processor with boasts of a virus. A concept introduced by the Fairtex brothers. Your grasp on reality seems to be slipping by 1% ...it was not a strong grasp to begin with.
On the subject of mind games... where is Vampira?
Are you so threatened by the thought of her picking the real world over your version of hell, that you needed to replace her with Little Dragon? A wrestler so interesting, that teaming with him had you ignored to participate in the Anzac Cup? Perhaps you feeble mind has pieced together that your presence was counter productive to Vampira's happiness and wellbeing. If you have made that breakthrough, congratulations, Luchian Inc. has made you grow as a one dimensional crazy person. Or perhaps being inseparable from Little Dragon is your way of showing solidarity with Pride month? Also applaudable.
Alternative path. Having Vampira present in your promotions forces you to deal with her presence. She must come to terms with the alleged abduction and your inability to protect her. You must process the ineffective way you came to her assistance, and general failings as it relates to her existence. All of which feature storylines and emotions that are too complex for your basic approach of mentally handicap stereotype? How do you avoid drooling on yourself? The humanoid mind is a mystery.
Regardless of your reason for Vampira's disappearance, including a best case scenario in which she is a figment of your imagination, accept this advice from our marketing department. No one likes Little Dragon. He adds nothing to your persona, and the fact that management decided to have you wrestle twice including allowing Dave Brickheart to prove his merit against you, suggests that there is no roster space available for your quote little buddy end quote.
Along with your unhealthy attachment to Little Dragon, you have an unrealistic sense of self worth as it comes to my dear friend, Buster. You lost the championship to him in a singles contest. You lost the rematch to him in a steel cage. You have no one to blame for these defeats but yourself, and Buster, because he is better than you. Accepting this would be less sad for everyone. You have not held the belt since New Years Nightmare. It will be a long time before you hold the belt again. Rather than focus on winning the belt, a chaotic character, one worthy of the title Psychotic Goth, would focus on the man who allegedly abducted his wife.
If you hold no ill will towards Luchian Inc. for the brief incarceration of your spouse in a psychiatric facility, then we have some clearance forms that our lawyers would appreciate your signature on. Suggestion. If you consider this a serious transgression against your person that consumes the very fabric of your furious lunatic soul, then perhaps prioritize finally getting your hands on the unit responsible for your anxiety, OVER failing another attempt at the ACW title. You would cast dispersions on this <pointing> cerebral cortex, without you even caring. No heart. Perhaps you are machine than man. You still disgust me.
Should you consider this impression to be inaccurate or unfair, perhaps you could spend more time in your promos delighting at the prospect of revenge? Troll.
{{The subtle hammering and shrill squeal of drills comes to an end, as the workmen start to carefully climb off the Asylum.}}
AB: With Collins and Tong still hanging over this title's polish, we will give you less time than rational minds had anticipated. Psychotic Goth. Does Vampira mean anything to you? Prove it against my titanium frame, because when this unit stands triumphant at the top of the Asylum, that is the last shot to avenge your hurt feelings. If this program means that little to you, Luchian Inc. can certainly do better as well. Dane will also be made an example of, and then can go back to earning a title shot the way everyone else does. Winning matches.
Proving this unit's superior condition in one contest against Fierce and Viper is all that is required, then they can go back to seeing who has the less impressive spinoff federation.
Turner. While not directly responsible for my unfortunate defence against Roxy, you two must be purged following this contest. Our cyborg brotherhood will have to be put aside, with your defeat allowing me to match a victory with my predecessor.
White. Our research has shown that his involvement with you kept Buster from reaching his full potential for 79 days. Like all your actions, you may not have been aware of harm you were causing, yet you have given us another reason for revenge. Attempts will be made to put your out of your misery with minimum damage, which is a kindness my tag partner will not show you.
{{As the last of the workers remove themselves from this mock Slain Asylum, The Industrial Man stares up to admire the craftsmanship.}}
AB: ...Gentlemen. Following the Anzac Cup, Funny Business could use some cheering up. This will be achieved by shortening Viper's career by whatever years he has left in him. This is not a threat, merely an observation.
In the ensuing conflict, all of your bodies will be broken down into the raw materials used to fuel the flames of The Industrial Age.
Your sacrifice is greatly appreciated, and the gift baskets you receive for participating will be generous.
The charity of steel.
{{If the marvellous mechanical man could smile, he would. Looking at the complex cages, with all their promise of career ending injuries, The Industrial Man can't help but process how much he has in common with the Slain Asylum.}}
{{Optimal.}}
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mosler
Special GUNS Acess
Mosler's not here man.
Posts: 2,339
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Post by mosler on Apr 24, 2023 17:33:20 GMT -5
SWAT EUROPE Batteground #2 : International Incident
{{Cogs turn.}}
{{Valves open, steam bursts out, filling the screen in a haze.}}
{{The white swirls around, shadows moving in and out of it, before settling into a mist.}}
AB: Since initiating the SWAT run, this unit has repeatedly stated that it is against the natural order. A continued wrench in Luchian Inc.'s Best Buster efforts has been a man who identifies with snakes. Unnatural, yes, but the thought of strangling a reptile? If this unit could register joy, Bueller would run the cartwheel program.
You questioned if this unit trusted Buster to protect its condition.
Suggested that Buster would not be up to the task of putting his own needs ahead of Luchian's interests, or this unit's title run.
Have you met, Buster?
A finer man has never graced SWAT. Fewer still have inserted coconut cream pies down their trousers for the purposes of entertaining youths. The height of integrity. Buster Friendly is beyond reproach. So if you desire our title defence to be in a towel encounter with Buster as my corner man? Our lawyers would be more than happy to oblige.
Mind games.
You have a very simple mind, Viper. Perhaps you could take pointers from Hell's Bouncer. Improve yourself. Does a towel match put this unit at a disadvantage? Far from it. In your corner will be Spike Nelson. My central processing unit can think of no greater punishment for your many crimes, than quote schooling you unquote in front of your genetic material. Letting the next generation of Viper know that if it continues to slither down your path, embracing the natural order of exceeding one's corpse, he can look forwards to devolving into a loser.
You are a loser, Vincent.
What better way to show it, than having your grandson throw the towel in.
This unit will look forwards to beating you half to death, as you appear to be half dead already.
{{More steam bursts into the air, the fog starts to get heavier until the screen is a solid white.}}
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mosler
Special GUNS Acess
Mosler's not here man.
Posts: 2,339
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Post by mosler on Apr 24, 2023 17:34:27 GMT -5
{{Grainy footage from a "How Things Work" video of snakeskin boots being created plays over SWAT TV. The footage of serpents being skinned is quite graphic. Bloody muscles twist violently in the air. As machines start to tan the hides, the camera pulls away from the documentary to find it playing in the private movie theatre of Attila Balan. Sitting in the forth row, The Industrial Man crushes the seat in front of him under the weight of the titanium legs he's resting on it, while enjoying a popcorn bag full of lug nuts. Opening the synthetic flesh around his oral cavity, the marvellous mechanical man who is a friend to all but hates nature, shovels down fistfuls of the metallic bolts. The sound of lugs being compacted in his metal mouth is enough to drown out the volume of the film, fortunately Balan has viewed this program so many times he knows its relevant information by harddrive.}}
AB: Nothing would give this unit a greater sense of purpose than owning reptile farms... but my corporation refuses to support agriculture.
{{The omnipotent robot waves the camera operator over. A friendly gesture meant more for the device than the human carrying it, for Balan identifies stronger with one of them.}}
AB: Greetings.
Cameraman: Hi mister... (oh he meant the camera)
AB: It appears that Stefan Slain feels that it would better serve the Atlantic Coast not to acknowledge the International title. Choosing instead to announce a title defence in which this unit processed that it could avenge previous wrongs, only for Slain to change the championship stipulations after our preparations had already been made. That is bad business. It insults Luchian Inc., the title, the champion, and (patting title on his waist) our history within his organization. Questionable decisions... human errors of that <pause> nature, do not entice my programming to continue appearing in the Atlantic Coast.
Cameraman: They actually just went out of business.
AB: Bad business usually leads to collapse. The treatment of this unit could only be seen as a desperate, pathetic, sad, last ditch attempt by a singularly moronic <pause> man... to keep his company in business. It no longer is. Stefan Slain. You are a failure. Displaying all the intelligence that allowed you to place your heavyweight title on Psychotic Goth for half a year. All data that relates to your asinine management style causes this unit's core processor to lag. No small task. SWAT is well to be rid of you. Atlantic Coast goes the way of all bad business.
Cameraman: They really didn't tell you the International Title wasn't on the line until the night of the show?!
AB: Phoenix. Pesci. Soutter. Alice. Viper. For the many regional heavies, owners, share holders, and figure heads - no one decided to come to me to discuss the situation of the International title belt. They still have not. A problem that comes with such a great number of characters playing at boss. Important information is frequently lost in the process. In my database, the various other management levels are no better than Slain. That is bad business.
Cameraman: Whoa. I know not coming to you at any point was kind of a dick move, but you're coming down a bit hard on them. I mean... comparing them to Slain... that's like calling them motherfuckers.
{{The theatre gets dark.}}
AB: Well... this is not the Atlantic Coast. We are back in the Old World. Europe. This unit's point of origin. Here. We operate with very different parameters. In the New World, we would foster a lumbering mental deficient like Hell's Bouncer in the hopes that it could one day evolve into a Marcus White. In this old world? We do not have to be as polite about it.
According to my travel itinerary, the location of our next title defence is in Russia. The fans there have long embraced Vincent to their frosty bosoms. Do you enjoy their approval, Vincent? Allow this unit to assist you with it.
We shall reverse operations.
You can be the popular character everyone applauds, while this unit collapses the lungs of an elderly man in front of his sobbing grandson, sending the two packing in a trail of their own bodily functions. Tears and piss, mostly. There is a 95% chance this will illicit the opposite response of what Luchian is accustomed too.
Perhaps your syndicate brethren can foot the hospital bill, otherwise you'll be reliving the iron curtain inside of an iron lung.
The president of the company runs down the International title, rewrites the rules that govern it, yet none of you thought to inform the champion. Vincent. As owner of the Backyard region, you would have had access to this information. While this unit was operating in Backyard, you could have mentioned it. No one came forward. You are one of a half dozen people that committed that negligence. When this unit is pulverizing your kidneys into a fine paste, please know that for all the other reasons you deserve a humiliating death at the hands of Funny Business, in that moment you are suffering for Pesci and the rest of your poor management conspirators.
As for attempting to torture and humiliate this unit and its dearest friend at ever possible turn... we will most likely rip out your lower intestine at which point Buster will make a balloon dog out of it to amuse your Russian fans.
Did Spike ever have an older male figure that could teach him how to throw? The big brother organization perhaps?
No towel will save you.
Your judgement will be swift, fierce, precise, and mechanical.
The vengeance of steel.
{{Swallowing another fist of lug nuts, the Industrial Man turns his attention back up to the big screen where a snake is being skinned alive.}}
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mosler
Special GUNS Acess
Mosler's not here man.
Posts: 2,339
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Post by mosler on Apr 24, 2023 17:35:14 GMT -5
Vincent.
Upon this unit's activation at Syndicate Wrestling And Tradition, its primary objective has been the betterment of Buster Friendly. Whether that optimization took the form of more alcohol consumption, a deeper resentment for children, far more personally damaging self-loathing, or more defined abs was not material. Whatever Buster accomplished in this units presence would be considered a successful program. The results of this trial should have become clear some months ago. Unfortunately the one thing distracting Buster from the task at hand, has been you, Vincent.
You like suggesting that my dear friend is a cheap imitation of your persona. Triple V running at 60% unpleasantness. The wishful thinking of a damaged mind. It is you, Vincent, that are a sad ripoff of Buster Friendly. You see his unbridled chaos, passion for pain, lust for suffering, and wish you were half the demonic clown he is back when you were his age. You were not. Such boasts only serve to fool yourself.
In an effort to get the optimization of Buster back on track, I have decided to cut the head off the problem that taints my results at its source. The International Title might be on the line, but it is you who will have your legs cut out from under you. A champion? You will have to retreat back to the tag scene, hoping that Spike Nelson can carry your elderly crippled frame. There is a 20% probability that Spike still degrades himself by looking up to you, even after he has stood at ringside to witness the tortures I inflict on your weak flesh.
We have been on the same paths for some time. You stole the royal rumble from us. Then the TWINSTAR titles. You single handedly cost us the Anzac Cup. Now you have turned your attention to the one bauble that this unit has kept out of your wrinkled grasp. Can you reach out for it, Vincent? It is my stockholders firm opinion that at the end of our contest you will not be holding gold, but rather your chin, desperately trying to hold it in place. The scars inflicted on your grandson are not my fault. As he cries himself to sleep thinking of the humanoid he looked up to as a god, know that you gave him a front row seat to your own funeral.
The International Title is the property of Luchian Inc.
Your attempt to defeat me for it is comical at best.
Sadly Vincent, this unit was not designed with a sense of humour.
...That is going to cost you.
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mosler
Special GUNS Acess
Mosler's not here man.
Posts: 2,339
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Post by mosler on Apr 24, 2023 18:07:28 GMT -5
[We fade in on "The Industrial Man" Attila Balan, who sits in a high tech hospital bed. You can hear the roar of the audience bleed through the arena to the broadcast truck playing the footage, as I-Man's faithful fans breath a sigh of relief for the most popular man in SWAT. The wonderful mechanical man who is a friend to all but hates nature, looked like he was about to swan song on the last broadcast, but now he almost looks factory sealed.]
AB: Optimal.
[The Windows Vista shutdown sound chimes in, and the light in the robots eyes grows cold.]
AB: ...
[The jarring hum of Windows Vista starting up, sees the robot jerk back to life.]
AB: Optimal.
[The Windows Vista shutdown sound chimes in, and the light in the robots eyes grows cold.]
AB: ...
[The jarring hum of Windows Vista starting up, sees the robot jerk back to life.]
AB: Optimal.
[The Windows Vista shutdown sound chimes in, and the light in the robots eyes grows cold. The positive cheers of the crowd quickly dies, a pained silence ushering over them for the conflicting emotions at this truly horrible fate. Trapped in a loop of Hell's Bouncers promos. And the fucking idiot brags about it. The image of I-man goes in and out of focus as his closest friend pulls back the iPhone this footage has been taped on.]
Beelzebozo: I knew this would happen. Anyone who gets too close to me gets sucked into my world of pain and suffering.
[The clown prince of darkness has been strapped down to a gurney waiting for medical evacuation. Not recognizing the need for kayfabe, the medical personal responsible for making sure that Buster Friendly doesn't puncture a lung with his broken ribs, have left his gurney next to the greatest Anzac Cup winner of all time, "Simply Amazing" Spike Nelson. Nelson is also strapped down, with his eyes almost swollen shut from the beating. What little pupil can be made out, appears to be tearing up as it views I-Man's horrifying fate.]
Beelzebozo: Kind of reminds you of Optimus Prime, right.
Spike Nelson: ...
[The former Anonymoose has no come backs. That video was sickening. It was just like the start of Transformers The Movie... but his grandfather isn't Megatron. Is he?]
Beelzebozo: Spike, what happened to you? You used to be such a pure soul. You were the ultimate good guy. But now your soul has been corrupted by that snake you delude yourself into thinking is your grandfather. And there really is no going back from that. Once purity is taken, it can never be restored. If you take a can of white paint, and pour some black into it, it will always have grey in it from that point on, no matter how much more white you add.
Vile "Vince" Viper: Get that Painted White TRASSSSSSSSH away from him!
[Stalking over in his street clothes, VVV is fighting mad. The king of snakes tries to put a cigar out on the clown's crotch, but a half dozen security get between the two before they can come to blows. Viper burns a few of them with it for ruining his fun. Beelzebozo starts trying to shake himself loose from the straps, possibly bursting a lung in the process.]
Beelzebozo: worried I may open his eyes?
Vile "Vince" Viper: You're so full of shit, Beelz, you should try getting some fibre in your diet --- I hear your pal, Balan, is a vegetable!
[Twice as many security have to enter the frame, throwing themselves on top of Buster Friendly to restrain him from murdering the albino.]
Beelzebozo: I've had enough of you, Viper. You need to be stopped, and I'm the only one willing to do what it takes to take you out.
Vile "Vince" Viper: You think I'm afraid of you?!
[With his free leg, the barely breathing Beelzebozo manages to kick off two of the security guards. Totally not afraid in the slightest, the scarlet serpent positions Spike's gurney between him and the clown... you know, so that he can wheel Spike out faster if something should happen.]
Beelzebozo: Face me, Viper. You and me, one on one. Two men enter, one man leaves!
Vile "Vince" Viper: TALK A BIG GAME! WHEN THE SSSSECOND "IT" GOES OUT OF THEATRES, THAT'S YOUR FIFTEEN MINUTESSS, MORON!
Joe Pesci: Get him out of here!
[At the arrival of the SWAT owner, another dozen security guards arrive to wheel the spitting mad Beelzebozo into a waiting ambulance. As the cursing clown is dragged to the medical attention he so desperately needs, Pesci tries to get control of the chaos, and Viper turns to check in on his grandson.]
Vile "Vince" Viper: You ok there, Spike?
Spike Nelson <mouth so swollen he can barely speak>: ...gran...pa... you... don't think... I'll end up like... Balan... do you...
Vile "Vince" Viper <fighting back tears>: Of course not Spike... of course not. There's no Hell's Bouncer promos where you're going.
Spike Nelson <coughing up blood>: ...that's... that's a relief. Wait... no Psychotic Goth either?!
Vile "Vince" Viper <hates lying>: ...Don't think about that now... just save your strength.
Spike Nelson <coughing up gummy worms>: ...so... so cold...
Vile "Vince" Viper: Don't worry Spike. We'll have you patched up in time for Pesci to undermine your next blood feud with a break dance off.
Spike Nelson <coughing up Mr. T cereal>: I'll...i... I'll n... no sell it, Grandpa.
Vile "Vince" Viper <patting Spike on the shoulder>: Sure you will, Spike... sure you will.
Spike Nelson: NO SELL...
[Spike flatlines.]
Vile "Vince" Viper: ...he no sold his own pulse.
Everyone: !
Vile "Vince" Viper: Angels never flew so low.
[...because the electrocardiogram hasn't been attached yet. Of course he has no heart beat. Duh. When the medical attendant finishes hooking it up, and its bouncing again, Vile stabs the male nurse in the eye with his cigar.]
Vile "Vince" Viper: SON OF A BITCH!
[The king of snakes spins around, spitting black venom at the ambulance that Beelzebozo has just been loaded into.]
Vile "Vince" Viper: I MAY HAVE BROKEN YOUR ONLY FRIEND, BUT <pointing> YOU WENT AFTER MY FAMILY! FAMILY! YOU DIDN'T SEE ME TURN YOUR CARNIE FREAK FRIENDSSS INTO A SLURRY DID YOU!?! CHRISSST! WELL MAYBE I SHOULD!
<spitting more black venom> YOU WANT A MATCH...
LET'S TAKE THIS CLOSE TO YOUR HOME...
YOU AND ME... AT THE TURNER MEMORIAL...
CARNIVAL DEATH MATCH!!!!
Joe Pesci: Hold on just one friggin' second! I went along with that DJ Booth stipulation because you were going to MAIM Soutter! Maim, Vile! You beat that Aussie prick, but he doesn't look all that maimed to me! So I'm not risking an expensive lawsuit over another of your dangerous match concepts!
Vile "Vince" Viper <dirtiest look>: Joe... I'm not at the Turner Memorial as a representative of Europe... fuck Europe. I'm putting this together as the head of BACKYARD... which means I'm producing this. Even if Beelzebozo thinks he knows what he's getting into... he won't even know how to WIN until my arm has been raised in victory! This might be his stomping grounds, THE ONLY HOME HE'S EVER KNOWN... but its MY backyard!
Joe Pesci <cold>: If that's the way you want to pla-----
[Wheels screech, as the ambulance takes off at high speeds! Having freed himself, but barely able to lift his head, Beelzebozo has managed to get behind the wheel. The ambulance swerves, heading towards the king of snakes at ramming speeds! Fortunately, the morphine kicks in, and the ambulance stops on a dime! Unfortunately, the dime was in Joe Pesci's pocket!]
#CRASH#
[Viper and Pesci lunge out of the way, as the ambulance rams into the wall. The impact sends enough debris flying that Spike Nelson's gurney rolls away, turning over so violently that the straps break, and leave Simply Amazing sprawled on the floor.]
#COUGH#
#COUGH#
[The dust clears.]
#SMASH#
[Not physically able to open the door, he's in such bad shape, Beelzebozo opts to break open the window with his elbow, sending glass flying into the face of Viper.]
Beelzebozo: I'm coming for you, Vince! I'm going to end you!
[The clown prince of chaos manages to spit blood into Viper's face, before the army of security once again pull the two men apart. Closer to the garage exit, Spike Nelson finds his limp body half proped against a door from the force of the impact. How did he get released from the stretcher under his own power? Is this a christmas miracle in August?]
Spike Nelson <slowly raising his arms in the air>: No sold!
[No sooner has he raised his arms, then Spike doubles over in agony. He's not going to try moving by himself for a month. Or eating cereal. Paramedics run over to Nelson, as Viper and Beelzebozo take turns spitting at each other separated by a sea of security in the background.]
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mosler
Special GUNS Acess
Mosler's not here man.
Posts: 2,339
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Post by mosler on Apr 24, 2023 18:58:44 GMT -5
The B-Side.
While The Industrial Man & Beelzebozo were dominating SWAT, their barely there managers were feuding in the Backyard region.
S2EP2 - Sainovic takes notes on a Fake Beelzebozo, Cooper Cordial - with Anonymoose (Spike Nelson) getting suspicious...
S2EP3 - Sainovic d. Loto Saluni (The BEEF)
S2EP4 "ACW Memorial" - Sainovic & Anonymoose CONFESSION MATCH ends in a no contest, when the PPV signal feed cuts out.
S2PE4 "ACW Memorial DO OVER" - Anonymoose defeats Sainovic in a CONFESSION MATCH, in which its revealed that I-Man is running a Beelzebozo franchise.
S2EP6 "Midwest Explosion" - Zoran Sainovic has his personal dentist - The Uni-Bomber attack Anonymoose for an Iowa killing No Contest.
S2EP8 "SWAT Hawaii Style" - Zoran Sainovic def. A Nonomoose (fake) in a grudge match. Later on the same show King Koi def. Sainovic by DQ, from a pretty brutal stabbing. Post-match, Sainovic would rough up another five Aloha Wild Wrestling junior talents.
S2EP9 "Battle of St. Mary" - What starts as Sainovic attempting to mercy kill a bedridden Anonymoose, turns into an EMERGENCY ROOM BRAWL with Beelzebozo. Beelzebozo successfully defends his ACW Heavyweight title against Zoran.
S2EP10 "VVV Birthday Bash" - Sainovic participates in the Al Soomse Memorial Tag Battle Royal - being eliminated by DINOSAUR BONES & Beelzebozo.
S2EP11 "West Coast Quake" - Reveal that Anonymoose was VVV's grandson puts Sainovic in the dog house. He teams with ZORK Nontext as ZZ Top, going to a no contest with Sirius Man & Elephant's Head.
S2EP12 "Anzac Cup the Rest of the Story" - ZZ Top (w/ZORK Nontext) are one of 18 teams involved in a gauntlet match, getting eliminated by FUNNY BUSINESS (I-Man & Beelzebozo)
S2EP13 "Tijuana Wrestling Bible" - HEFE Hernandez def. Sainovic by DQ, with a stabbing so violent on the Atletismo Premier Mexico promoter, that it effectively ends any hope of a SWAT Mexico. It also leads to a six-man-tag, in which Zoran and Samoan Hit Parade def. El Hijo de AZTEC Dracula, Niño Huracán & Amante de los Espaguetis.
S2EP14 ""Battle of Saint-Antoine" - Zoran again challenges Beelzebozo's ACW Heavyweight Championship - losing in a STOMACH PUMP DEATH MATCH.
S2EP16.1 "Steel Blues" - Sainovic def. GNUE in a CONFESSION match. S2EP16.2 "Thunder Trail" - Sainovic def. Nikola Jankovic [MWO], ending any chance of a SWAT Montenegro. S2EP16.3 "Accidental Invasion" - Sainovic def. UniBomber C in a false teeth graveyard death match. S2EP16.4 "COLOSSUS" - Sainovic def. UniBomber C in a CONFESSION match. S2EP16.5 "History Crush" - Sainovic def. Hardcore Hero S2EP16.6 "Monaco Supershow" - The HOLY Weapons & Rajiv Khan def. Zoran Sainovic, Gavin McBride & Cooper Cordial S2EP16.7 "Electric Horses" - Zoran Sainovic def. Gavin McBride in a bed of nails match. S2EP16.8 "New Legend Memorial" - Zoran Sainovic won the Kenneth Morlock Memorial Cup - defeating Spike Nelson (Anonymoose) in the finals. S2EP16.9 "Sainovic vs. Nelson IX" - Headlining the show, Sainovic defeated Nelson in a CONFESSION match in which he made his rival admit he wasn't under 10. S2EP16.10 "Island Crush" - Spike Nelson def. Sainovic in a Beach Brawl S2EP16.11 "High Voltage Frontier" - Sainovic & Zork Nontext def. The HOLY Weapons
S2EP17 "Interesting Times" - Sainovic defeats Industrial Man to become the SWAT INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION, only to immediate lose it to Daniel Collins.
S2EP18 "Season Finale" - Funny Business defeat Sainovic & LEFT Tentacle to retain the TWINSTAR titles.
S3EP2 Myanmar Tour - Sainovic def. Hardcore Hero in a Lethwei Match
S3EP3 South Korea Tour - Sainovic def. Sirius Man for the ULTIMATE Title in a barbwire match
S3EP4 Alaska Tour - DINOSAUR BONES def. Sainovic for the ULTIMATE Title
S3EP5 Central America Tour - Sirius Man def. Sainovic in a #1 contender match
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