The Dogs of War [RP #2]
Oct 27, 2023 12:37:56 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Dave D-Flipz, and 1 more like this
Post by Oblivion Death Squad on Oct 27, 2023 12:37:56 GMT -5
The chain link fence around the cage rattled and popped as the weight of the man inside of it crashed against it. He bounced off, stumbling and bleeding only to be caught once more by the hulking Mormo. His fists battered into the man’s gut and ribs, delivering blow after blow as the crowd in the dark smoke filled room chanted his name in his native tongue. He grabbed the man by the hair, and he whipped him across the ring to crash against the cage once more. The man flipped upside down, and landed on his neck and shoulders before the ref waved his hands.
The crowd cheered, and money changed hands as the bleeding men was dragged out. And another even larger stepped inside the cage, his huge muscled form covered in ink as he growled a challenge at the silent Mormo.
Sinclair Godfrey looked on from the shadows of the underground fight club hidden deep in the streets and back alleys of Albania. This was their world, this was where the Oblivion Death Squad in the persons of Mormo and Moloch had been made. They were creatures of shadows and violence, of raw brutality. They had decided to prepare for End of Days by coming home, by going back to their roots.
And they were reveling in it.
The big man with his layers of tattoos and shock of blonde hair lunged at Mormo, throwing stiff punches before he dropped back to snap a few kicks at his ribs. Mormo snarled, grabbing at the limb before he ripped him forward to drive a hard elbow into the man’s face. Blood flew, but the man didn’t stumble as his big hands grabbed either side of Mormo’s head. He squeezed, forcing Mormo to shake his head as he dropped backwards.
Money flew, and Sinclair watched with expressionless eyes. She gave a quick glance to Moloch, the smaller of the brutes was watching with a hint of concern. Her lips twitched slightly, and she nodded. That was to be expected.
Mormo and Moloch only cared for each other, her, and Donzig. Everything else didn’t matter to them. Perhaps she thought the End were right. The ODS were dogs. They were big mean spirited loyal dogs. They did what their master commanded no more and no less. They didn’t question, they didn’t hesitate, and they didn’t stop.
‘Cry “Havoc!” and let slip the dogs of war.’
Inside the cage, the big man was still squeezing as he tried to get his thumbs hooked into Mormo’s eyes. But he stepped in suddenly, and his arms coiled around the man’s big waist as he twisted. He flung the man backwards with a roar of fury, and the big man crashed down in a heap to bounce across the floor. The ref scrambled out of the way, and Sinclair saw Moloch nod slightly.
Mormo charged forward, and he stomped a big boot into the man’s back between his inked shoulders. The man rocked forward, looking dazed before Mormo’s arms wrapped around his head and neck. He ripped him upwards, and then dropped as the big man gurgled and turned red as he failed. The crowd was cheering wildly, and she saw the tattooed man was fading as Mormo’s legs and arms tightened to cut off his air.
The Baroness knew the man was defeated, but above all things Sinclair Godfrey knew the works of her master. Mormo broke the hold, and rose without expression on his face as his lip curled in disdain. The crowd seemed confused, but she knew.
A glance at Moloch, and she looked away. She saw it in his eyes too.
The flaws of Donzig-gun.
Defeating someone was not enough for them. It would never be enough. It could never be enough. They had to break them.
Donzig had passed his weaknesses on to his creations, and Sinclair knew that was the real peril at End of Days. The arrogance, the cruelty, and the blood lust of the Oblivion Death Squad.
Mormo and Moloch played their games. They enjoyed brutality, they enjoyed showing their dominance, they enjoyed the violence.
Sinclair enjoyed her games of power and intrigue.
And Donzig? Her beloved Scourge?
Well, Sinclair suspected Donzig didn’t enjoy anything anymore.
‘Mormo, finish it.’
She called as the blonde man started to rise, holding at his throat as he coughed. He gasped, shaking his head as he pushed himself upwards. And then Mormo rushed forward, and he delivered hard quick kicks to the man’s lower ribs. He stumbled and fell, starting to rise again before he grabbed him around the waist to fling him backwards again. The tattooed man crashed down, and started to rise before Mormo lunged to wrap his arms around his shoulders and arms.
He yanked him upwards, and then slammed him down with a roar. Money flew through the air, and the smoky room was filled with roars of approval. Mormo stomped back and forth, bellowing back at them before he slammed a fist against his broad chest. Sinclair said nothing, just watched with empty eyes as Mormo drove a boot into the ribs of the man.
Then planted a foot on his chest, and the ref started to count!
It was over, it was that simple.
Mormo called for another challenger, but the Baroness lifted a hand to wave absently. Mormo grunted, but obeyed as he waved the ref aside before shoving his way through the door of the cage. He shouldered through the crowd, and Moloch tossed his shirt to him before clapping him on the shoulder. The two exchanged words, and they walked through the smoky shadows to join Sinclair.
‘I expect less games when you face the End. Do not take them lightly, they are dangerous. They have something to prove, they are hungry, and such men have nothing to lose.’
The two glanced at each other, and Mormo pulled on his shirt with a grunt. He had a few bruises forming on his ribs, but Sinclair knew that would barely phase him. She shook her head, and she tapped her fingers against the scarred surface of the stained table.
‘Listen to me, Mehrunes Smith is a technical wizard. And he’s fast, he is going to use his speed to cut off the ring. He is going to try to stay in the air, come off the ropes. He is going to try and isolate a limb, he knows he needs to take away your power.’
Moloch grunted, he was always the better listener of the two. Mormo tended to rely on his size and power, and it made him overconfident at times. Sinclair shrugged, and continued.
‘Fargo is relentless. His main advantage is his strength, and he can’t rely on that. He is going to strike, he is going to hit hard and fast. His job is to wear you down. He is going to batter you until one of you slips up! And then? He is going to work whatever limb the other has been going after.’
Mormo frowned, and he slapped a hand on the table.
‘Bah! Fargo nuk mund të përputhet me fuqinë tonë! Ai mund të përpiqet të shkëmbejë goditje me ne, por kjo nuk do t'i bëjë asgjë! Unë do ta rrah në tokë!’
Moloch nodded, and Sinclair sniffed.
‘Oh? He doesn’t want to beat you with strikes. They want to slow you down, to wear you down, and trap you. That speed is their main advantage. You are both skilled wrestlers, you are both bigger and stronger than them! Their one edge is speed! And that means they need to slow you down!’
Sinclair frowned, and Mormo considered this as she shifted her eyes to Moloch.
‘You will be their main target. Mormo is too big, they need to keep him out of the ring.’
‘Lërini të provojnë! Nuk jam pre e lehtë! Unë do t'i thyej palën në gjysmë!’
‘I am sure they will try,’
She said dryly, and she gave a shrug. She knew the boys knew the game, but if they had a flaw it was the Death Squad tended to be short sighted. It was well known that Donzig and Sinclair were the brains behind the operation. She waved a hand, and rose to her feet as she turned for the door.
They fell into step behind her, Moloch pulling on his jacket as the crowd parted before her.
If something worked, Donzig would rarely expend energy to fix it. And sadly she knew that for all of his flaws, the Scourge always went with the direct approach. He used the Death Squad like a hammer, because a hammer is what worked. That was how they had defeated Cut Throat Chaos to claim the XHF Tag Team Titles.
They were machines, They would not stop. To a hammer everything was a nail.
And at End of Days?
That was Smith and Fargo.
She smiled as they stepped into the warm night air, and shrugged before she tugged up the collar of her long coat. A glance back at the pair, and she shrugged before she headed down the empty dark streets strewn with trash.
‘I want the End broken. I want them at the rest of the XHF to know exactly what we are capable of. We have a job to do.’
The pair nodded.
The crowd cheered, and money changed hands as the bleeding men was dragged out. And another even larger stepped inside the cage, his huge muscled form covered in ink as he growled a challenge at the silent Mormo.
Sinclair Godfrey looked on from the shadows of the underground fight club hidden deep in the streets and back alleys of Albania. This was their world, this was where the Oblivion Death Squad in the persons of Mormo and Moloch had been made. They were creatures of shadows and violence, of raw brutality. They had decided to prepare for End of Days by coming home, by going back to their roots.
And they were reveling in it.
The big man with his layers of tattoos and shock of blonde hair lunged at Mormo, throwing stiff punches before he dropped back to snap a few kicks at his ribs. Mormo snarled, grabbing at the limb before he ripped him forward to drive a hard elbow into the man’s face. Blood flew, but the man didn’t stumble as his big hands grabbed either side of Mormo’s head. He squeezed, forcing Mormo to shake his head as he dropped backwards.
Money flew, and Sinclair watched with expressionless eyes. She gave a quick glance to Moloch, the smaller of the brutes was watching with a hint of concern. Her lips twitched slightly, and she nodded. That was to be expected.
Mormo and Moloch only cared for each other, her, and Donzig. Everything else didn’t matter to them. Perhaps she thought the End were right. The ODS were dogs. They were big mean spirited loyal dogs. They did what their master commanded no more and no less. They didn’t question, they didn’t hesitate, and they didn’t stop.
‘Cry “Havoc!” and let slip the dogs of war.’
Inside the cage, the big man was still squeezing as he tried to get his thumbs hooked into Mormo’s eyes. But he stepped in suddenly, and his arms coiled around the man’s big waist as he twisted. He flung the man backwards with a roar of fury, and the big man crashed down in a heap to bounce across the floor. The ref scrambled out of the way, and Sinclair saw Moloch nod slightly.
Mormo charged forward, and he stomped a big boot into the man’s back between his inked shoulders. The man rocked forward, looking dazed before Mormo’s arms wrapped around his head and neck. He ripped him upwards, and then dropped as the big man gurgled and turned red as he failed. The crowd was cheering wildly, and she saw the tattooed man was fading as Mormo’s legs and arms tightened to cut off his air.
The Baroness knew the man was defeated, but above all things Sinclair Godfrey knew the works of her master. Mormo broke the hold, and rose without expression on his face as his lip curled in disdain. The crowd seemed confused, but she knew.
A glance at Moloch, and she looked away. She saw it in his eyes too.
The flaws of Donzig-gun.
Defeating someone was not enough for them. It would never be enough. It could never be enough. They had to break them.
Donzig had passed his weaknesses on to his creations, and Sinclair knew that was the real peril at End of Days. The arrogance, the cruelty, and the blood lust of the Oblivion Death Squad.
Mormo and Moloch played their games. They enjoyed brutality, they enjoyed showing their dominance, they enjoyed the violence.
Sinclair enjoyed her games of power and intrigue.
And Donzig? Her beloved Scourge?
Well, Sinclair suspected Donzig didn’t enjoy anything anymore.
‘Mormo, finish it.’
She called as the blonde man started to rise, holding at his throat as he coughed. He gasped, shaking his head as he pushed himself upwards. And then Mormo rushed forward, and he delivered hard quick kicks to the man’s lower ribs. He stumbled and fell, starting to rise again before he grabbed him around the waist to fling him backwards again. The tattooed man crashed down, and started to rise before Mormo lunged to wrap his arms around his shoulders and arms.
He yanked him upwards, and then slammed him down with a roar. Money flew through the air, and the smoky room was filled with roars of approval. Mormo stomped back and forth, bellowing back at them before he slammed a fist against his broad chest. Sinclair said nothing, just watched with empty eyes as Mormo drove a boot into the ribs of the man.
Then planted a foot on his chest, and the ref started to count!
It was over, it was that simple.
Mormo called for another challenger, but the Baroness lifted a hand to wave absently. Mormo grunted, but obeyed as he waved the ref aside before shoving his way through the door of the cage. He shouldered through the crowd, and Moloch tossed his shirt to him before clapping him on the shoulder. The two exchanged words, and they walked through the smoky shadows to join Sinclair.
‘I expect less games when you face the End. Do not take them lightly, they are dangerous. They have something to prove, they are hungry, and such men have nothing to lose.’
The two glanced at each other, and Mormo pulled on his shirt with a grunt. He had a few bruises forming on his ribs, but Sinclair knew that would barely phase him. She shook her head, and she tapped her fingers against the scarred surface of the stained table.
‘Listen to me, Mehrunes Smith is a technical wizard. And he’s fast, he is going to use his speed to cut off the ring. He is going to try to stay in the air, come off the ropes. He is going to try and isolate a limb, he knows he needs to take away your power.’
Moloch grunted, he was always the better listener of the two. Mormo tended to rely on his size and power, and it made him overconfident at times. Sinclair shrugged, and continued.
‘Fargo is relentless. His main advantage is his strength, and he can’t rely on that. He is going to strike, he is going to hit hard and fast. His job is to wear you down. He is going to batter you until one of you slips up! And then? He is going to work whatever limb the other has been going after.’
Mormo frowned, and he slapped a hand on the table.
‘Bah! Fargo nuk mund të përputhet me fuqinë tonë! Ai mund të përpiqet të shkëmbejë goditje me ne, por kjo nuk do t'i bëjë asgjë! Unë do ta rrah në tokë!’
Moloch nodded, and Sinclair sniffed.
‘Oh? He doesn’t want to beat you with strikes. They want to slow you down, to wear you down, and trap you. That speed is their main advantage. You are both skilled wrestlers, you are both bigger and stronger than them! Their one edge is speed! And that means they need to slow you down!’
Sinclair frowned, and Mormo considered this as she shifted her eyes to Moloch.
‘You will be their main target. Mormo is too big, they need to keep him out of the ring.’
‘Lërini të provojnë! Nuk jam pre e lehtë! Unë do t'i thyej palën në gjysmë!’
‘I am sure they will try,’
She said dryly, and she gave a shrug. She knew the boys knew the game, but if they had a flaw it was the Death Squad tended to be short sighted. It was well known that Donzig and Sinclair were the brains behind the operation. She waved a hand, and rose to her feet as she turned for the door.
They fell into step behind her, Moloch pulling on his jacket as the crowd parted before her.
If something worked, Donzig would rarely expend energy to fix it. And sadly she knew that for all of his flaws, the Scourge always went with the direct approach. He used the Death Squad like a hammer, because a hammer is what worked. That was how they had defeated Cut Throat Chaos to claim the XHF Tag Team Titles.
They were machines, They would not stop. To a hammer everything was a nail.
And at End of Days?
That was Smith and Fargo.
She smiled as they stepped into the warm night air, and shrugged before she tugged up the collar of her long coat. A glance back at the pair, and she shrugged before she headed down the empty dark streets strewn with trash.
‘I want the End broken. I want them at the rest of the XHF to know exactly what we are capable of. We have a job to do.’
The pair nodded.
