Post by Tommy Kelly on Jan 18, 2018 21:43:33 GMT -5
Following the drunken escapades of their night in Tequila-la-la, we open up to find The Brotherhood in a very...different setting. A gym. But not just any gym. A full fledged, fully stocked MMA gym. Dotted around the room are men and women training, running drills or sparring with partners, but the main centerpiece of the whole room in the life sized ring standing proud in the middle of the room. Inside, we see Synn reading to rumble, sparring with a trainer. Dressed in gym shorts, sneakers and a loose shirt, he looks very unlike his usual Gothic appearance. His lack of white, ghoulish face paint is the most unusual part of his appearance. He is practicing fist combos with the trainer, sidestepping and ducking/ weaving, when the door of the gym opens in the background and a buzz flies through the air...StormCrow.
Arriving to the gym is classic style, the man looks rugged, rough, messy. His hair is pulled back, hidden under a baseball cap. His face concealed in large sunglasses, his torn leather jacket swinging openly over his ripped jeans. Around his waist is usually his XHF European championship and AXW world championship...but now there is nothing. He is without belts. He makes his way towards the ring, high-fiving or nodding to onlookers in the gym that are fans of the has-been.
Lookin’ good Synndy! Duck, dodge, skip that bitch! Heh heh.
Looking down to his partner, Synn motions for a break from the trainer, and walks to the ropes, leaning over them to talk down to his buddy.
Well well well, look at this. The man lives!
Of course I do, what did you think, I’d be home sitting on my ass, getting drunk?
Well actually I was thinking in a gutter somewhere...but hey, you’re here now...why are you here now?
Duh, to train man. Big matches coming up, big shots to shoot and big gold to be won!
Synn looks at Crow, skeptical and confused.
You? Want to train? For a match?
Yeah man, of course!
With that, Crow slips off his jacket, hat and shades. He takes off his leather belt and lays it across a bench housing his clothing, before stripping himself of his jeans...revealing absolutely nothing below.
Aw man what the fuck! Put that thing away!
What thi- whoops! Must have forgot to put on my shorts...no worries, I’ll just...erm...um, anybody got any spare shorts I can borrow?
People quickly look away, avoiding the wedding tackle of an ex-hobo, until some grease monkey chucks a pair his way.
Ah lovely, thank you kind sir!
Pulling on the gym shorts and covering his manhood, StormCrow is now ready to train...but looks like something from a horror show. Loose greasy hair, shredded metal shirt, mismatched gym shorts and a pair of cowboy boots underneath. He climbs onto the apron and into the ring.
So, what’s the drill here? Lunges? Box jumps? Maybe some one-two combos to start us off?
One-two...no man, we’re just working on footwork right now...and those might not be the best for footwork.
Synn looks down to Crow’s snakeskin boots, idyllic rocker boots but out of place in a boxing ring.
What, I can’t be stylish and fight at the same time? Pssh, grow up man. These boots were made for walking, and that's just what they’ll do! These boots were made for-
Yeah yeah, I hear ya Jessica Simpson….what’s with the sudden change of heart? Why are you coming to train now?
Aw man...don’t make me spell it out for yeh...c’mon man…
Spell what out? What’s going on?
You know man...I just...I haven’t….I fuckin’ suck recently man! I’ve been losing matches, getting locked up, and the worst part is I lost a match to that stupid looking robot kid! It’s not good man, I’m losing my touch!
Yeah, well you’re not wrong...but hey, we’ve got a huge match ahead of us. We can turn it around.
No man, it’s humiliation after humiliation, week after week of bullshit. Rob Arnold this and Anal Man that, its so annoying. And now this crap with that Barratt guy...I just want to kick some ass is all, and I want to get back what’s rightfully mine.
Yeah? What’s that?
The fuckin’ spotlight man! I had all eyes on me a few weeks back, I had the fans eating nuts from my hands, banging groupies and sipping mai-tai’s in jacuzzi’s! Those were the days man!
Uh, I remember you shaggin' hookers and drinking sizzurp in the bath…
...look dude, you’re not only my oldest friend, my best friend, but your my brother. And I would normally be too proud to ask you to do this...and I know I can try alone...the thing is…
You want my help.
...yeah.
You got it man. No worries, I’ve BEEN trying to help you since I came back! Look all we need is a training regiment, clean up your act a little and focus more on the matches, the opponents and the gold. And we’ll be champs again in no time.
I like the sound of that! Champions...XHF Tag Team Champions...it sound good to me!
Dude, we’ll take those belts home. You’ll kick Barratt’s ass, and then we’ll work on Anomaly after that.
Yeah man...Barratt really annoys me man. His smug little face, his smug little feet, his smug little hands...he’s just a smug little person, man.
I hear you...I wouldn’t say little person-
Him, Skinny Pete, those dozen midgets, they can all just hump it. After Supremacy is done, I’m taking me a break from those fools. Barratt and Skinny Pete can suck a pipe.
That’s the spirit...I think. And we’ll get your belt back from Anomaly too in due time.
My belt? What do you mean-
Interrupting him, a man appears by the ring. Actually two men, a member of the gym staff and another bike messenger looking guy. It’s apparent this messenger was not expected by staff or Synn, but StormCrow’s eyes light up like never before.
Oh shit, they arrived! Niiice!
What’s arrived? ...Crow?
Jumping out of the ring in an excited flurry, Crow takes a package from the courier, signs some sheet and the two men leave. Crow frantically tears the box open, its weight apparent as he struggles to hold it. Synn looks on in confusion, until he glances the gleaming gold form inside…
Check these BITCHES!
Crow pulls out two glowing golden belts from the box...the XHF European Championship, and the AXW Championship.
Hang on, is that what I think-
I got ‘ma gurls’ all shined up and pretty! Nice job too, eh? They are gleaming!
Wait a second...why do you have two belts?
Well you made me feel bad for getting them dirty, getting food on them, booze...spunk...drugs...shit and piss...so I got them washed, polished and buffed up to a godly shine. And they look glorious!!
Yeah I see that...but if you have both belts...what does Anomaly have?
Oh that? Well I knew V would be mad if I showed up without a belt, he’d think I lost them...or find out I lost them!...so I ran to the gift shop and picked up a replica. Fifty bucks only, and looked almost real! I figure the TV’s wouldn’t zoom in enough to see it anyway.
Dude...that is fucked up. Anomaly BEAT you, he EARNED his belt! And you gave him a fake??
Heh heh, yeah? So what, he’ll be fine. He can challenge me for this one if he likes.
Man, that is not how the rules work...shit Crow, this might backfire on you.
Backfire? No way man, this is my belt! I AM the AXW Champ, not some gimp suit freak. Besides, he’s happy with his replica anyway. Let’s just keep it hush hush, he’ll never know.
Shaking his head and pinching the brow of his nose, Synn just walks away as Crow puts down his belts and slides back into the ring.
So, what are we working on here.
Well I was focusing on my foot work, making sure I haven’t gotten too slow. I was caught off guard by Arnold and Price, so I want to be ready to go for this tournament. We’re facing five teams at once, that is no joke.
Ah relax, these aren’t real teams anyway.
How do you figure?
I mean, The GUNS? Those two guys are just promotional pieces, hired by Mongo to flash the belts and build up the show. They have a pet bear and what else? Nothing.
Um, you do realise that Venom is one of the most successful XHF superstars like, ever.
Nah, that doesn’t matter. Fuck, Price and Arnold are too! And what have they ever done recently?
...whooped our asses a couple weeks ago.
Pssh, poppycock. We’ll be fine! Plus, I already forecasted the whole night…
StormCrow starts to dance around the ring, fists up in a boxers stance.
...Bobby Barratt is gonna come up to me, get all smug...then WHAM!
He uppercuts mid-air.
Right onto his kiester. Next Skinny Pete is gonna come strutting along, his doped-up face getting close to mine, then BOOM!
Another punch to mid-air.
His midgets will run at me, I’ll take them down one by one. BOP BOP BOP! Then into the tag match, I’m gonna walk over to MOMMA-bukkake and just BLAST them away! KA-POW!
He does a masterbating motion followed by rising hand strikes.
The Darkness will come over, singing to me and serenading me with their sweet sweet music…
Uh, you know that’s not the band yeah? It’s a team of Dyla-
I’ll be all like, ‘Yeah bro’s I believe in a thing called love, it’s called WINNING!’. Then I shove my fist into their rectum, like this…
He does a gross hand motion, showing him struggling to actually put his arm in a rectum…
...then with Justin Hawkins and Dan Hawkins on my arms, I’d use them like punching gloves, and go take on Daft Punk. BIP BOP BOOM!
Team Tron, not Daft Punk…
...So it’d be funky pop rock versus electric synth, as we battle it out for the ultimate sound. I’d shoot both rectum-gloves off, rocketing them into the robots and eliminating them. Lastly the Guns come down, all prissy and teary eyed at how awesome we are, and they just beg us to fuck ‘em. But we’re no homo, so we slap them around, my hands all covered in poop and I cover them in all gross stuff. Then you come in and keep drop kicking them over and over and over until they just die or explode or they leave the ring or the match is over or you decide to pin them or submit them or jump off the top rope or maybe you could just oh my God you could do this you could elbow slam! Elbowelbowelbowelbow-
Dude! What the fuck!
Shit man...was I saying all that...or was that in my head?
Crow man, what the actual fuck is wrong with you...
Shit...that damn speedball must have crept up on me...whoa man. Starting to feel it now!
The little exercise he did in the ring, jumping and fisting the air, has now completely winded the champ, as he takes a seat on the turnbuckles. His face pales as whatever is in his system starts to run its course.
I don’t feel so good now...I mean, I feel GREAT...but not exercise ready…
Crow stands up to leave, but is met with a hard clothesline from Synn, slamming him down.
This is the first time I’ve gotten you in the ring to practise since my return. And you are twigging out on me. Sorry dude, but this is for your own good.
Synn starts to hammer down stomps on StormCrow, who is rolling around screaming on the mat, his snakeskin boots waving frantically in the air.
...oof! Stoppit!...*stomp* ouch! Synn what the-....dammit man stop!
Get up and fight back, old man!
Continuing to beat him down, Crow finally catches Synn’s boot and pushes him back, giving him enough time to roll over and onto all fours, ready to pounce like a cat. On his side, the boxing trainer enters the ring, his padded gloves ready to work Crow with some target practise. Both the trainer and Synn close in, edging towards the champion to see what he will do.
This is how we do it then?...fine.
Crow lifts a leg, unclenches his buttocks and lets out a loud fart. Probably form all the drugs going through his system right now. He smiles, then runs at Synn, headbutting his chest and driving him backwards. He lands and flurry to the midsection of Synn then front kicks him backwards. He spins to the boxer and hits the gloves, ducking the overhead sweep and blocking the side punches. Crow continues this, switching from trainer to Synn, laughing and enjoying himself. Synn cracks a few more jokes as the training of StormCrow has finally begun. The scene fades out on The Brotherhood, happily working out some moves in the ring and working on their offense game. Before cutting out, the camera pans to the bench at ringside, where Crow’s clothes lie draped across it, and on top two gleaming golden belts...one of which he shouldn't have. Oh well, suck it Dylan.
Arriving to the gym is classic style, the man looks rugged, rough, messy. His hair is pulled back, hidden under a baseball cap. His face concealed in large sunglasses, his torn leather jacket swinging openly over his ripped jeans. Around his waist is usually his XHF European championship and AXW world championship...but now there is nothing. He is without belts. He makes his way towards the ring, high-fiving or nodding to onlookers in the gym that are fans of the has-been.
Lookin’ good Synndy! Duck, dodge, skip that bitch! Heh heh.
Looking down to his partner, Synn motions for a break from the trainer, and walks to the ropes, leaning over them to talk down to his buddy.
Well well well, look at this. The man lives!
Of course I do, what did you think, I’d be home sitting on my ass, getting drunk?
Well actually I was thinking in a gutter somewhere...but hey, you’re here now...why are you here now?
Duh, to train man. Big matches coming up, big shots to shoot and big gold to be won!
Synn looks at Crow, skeptical and confused.
You? Want to train? For a match?
Yeah man, of course!
With that, Crow slips off his jacket, hat and shades. He takes off his leather belt and lays it across a bench housing his clothing, before stripping himself of his jeans...revealing absolutely nothing below.
Aw man what the fuck! Put that thing away!
What thi- whoops! Must have forgot to put on my shorts...no worries, I’ll just...erm...um, anybody got any spare shorts I can borrow?
People quickly look away, avoiding the wedding tackle of an ex-hobo, until some grease monkey chucks a pair his way.
Ah lovely, thank you kind sir!
Pulling on the gym shorts and covering his manhood, StormCrow is now ready to train...but looks like something from a horror show. Loose greasy hair, shredded metal shirt, mismatched gym shorts and a pair of cowboy boots underneath. He climbs onto the apron and into the ring.
So, what’s the drill here? Lunges? Box jumps? Maybe some one-two combos to start us off?
One-two...no man, we’re just working on footwork right now...and those might not be the best for footwork.
Synn looks down to Crow’s snakeskin boots, idyllic rocker boots but out of place in a boxing ring.
What, I can’t be stylish and fight at the same time? Pssh, grow up man. These boots were made for walking, and that's just what they’ll do! These boots were made for-
Yeah yeah, I hear ya Jessica Simpson….what’s with the sudden change of heart? Why are you coming to train now?
Aw man...don’t make me spell it out for yeh...c’mon man…
Spell what out? What’s going on?
You know man...I just...I haven’t….I fuckin’ suck recently man! I’ve been losing matches, getting locked up, and the worst part is I lost a match to that stupid looking robot kid! It’s not good man, I’m losing my touch!
Yeah, well you’re not wrong...but hey, we’ve got a huge match ahead of us. We can turn it around.
No man, it’s humiliation after humiliation, week after week of bullshit. Rob Arnold this and Anal Man that, its so annoying. And now this crap with that Barratt guy...I just want to kick some ass is all, and I want to get back what’s rightfully mine.
Yeah? What’s that?
The fuckin’ spotlight man! I had all eyes on me a few weeks back, I had the fans eating nuts from my hands, banging groupies and sipping mai-tai’s in jacuzzi’s! Those were the days man!
Uh, I remember you shaggin' hookers and drinking sizzurp in the bath…
...look dude, you’re not only my oldest friend, my best friend, but your my brother. And I would normally be too proud to ask you to do this...and I know I can try alone...the thing is…
You want my help.
...yeah.
You got it man. No worries, I’ve BEEN trying to help you since I came back! Look all we need is a training regiment, clean up your act a little and focus more on the matches, the opponents and the gold. And we’ll be champs again in no time.
I like the sound of that! Champions...XHF Tag Team Champions...it sound good to me!
Dude, we’ll take those belts home. You’ll kick Barratt’s ass, and then we’ll work on Anomaly after that.
Yeah man...Barratt really annoys me man. His smug little face, his smug little feet, his smug little hands...he’s just a smug little person, man.
I hear you...I wouldn’t say little person-
Him, Skinny Pete, those dozen midgets, they can all just hump it. After Supremacy is done, I’m taking me a break from those fools. Barratt and Skinny Pete can suck a pipe.
That’s the spirit...I think. And we’ll get your belt back from Anomaly too in due time.
My belt? What do you mean-
Interrupting him, a man appears by the ring. Actually two men, a member of the gym staff and another bike messenger looking guy. It’s apparent this messenger was not expected by staff or Synn, but StormCrow’s eyes light up like never before.
Oh shit, they arrived! Niiice!
What’s arrived? ...Crow?
Jumping out of the ring in an excited flurry, Crow takes a package from the courier, signs some sheet and the two men leave. Crow frantically tears the box open, its weight apparent as he struggles to hold it. Synn looks on in confusion, until he glances the gleaming gold form inside…
Check these BITCHES!
Crow pulls out two glowing golden belts from the box...the XHF European Championship, and the AXW Championship.
Hang on, is that what I think-
I got ‘ma gurls’ all shined up and pretty! Nice job too, eh? They are gleaming!
Wait a second...why do you have two belts?
Well you made me feel bad for getting them dirty, getting food on them, booze...spunk...drugs...shit and piss...so I got them washed, polished and buffed up to a godly shine. And they look glorious!!
Yeah I see that...but if you have both belts...what does Anomaly have?
Oh that? Well I knew V would be mad if I showed up without a belt, he’d think I lost them...or find out I lost them!...so I ran to the gift shop and picked up a replica. Fifty bucks only, and looked almost real! I figure the TV’s wouldn’t zoom in enough to see it anyway.
Dude...that is fucked up. Anomaly BEAT you, he EARNED his belt! And you gave him a fake??
Heh heh, yeah? So what, he’ll be fine. He can challenge me for this one if he likes.
Man, that is not how the rules work...shit Crow, this might backfire on you.
Backfire? No way man, this is my belt! I AM the AXW Champ, not some gimp suit freak. Besides, he’s happy with his replica anyway. Let’s just keep it hush hush, he’ll never know.
Shaking his head and pinching the brow of his nose, Synn just walks away as Crow puts down his belts and slides back into the ring.
So, what are we working on here.
Well I was focusing on my foot work, making sure I haven’t gotten too slow. I was caught off guard by Arnold and Price, so I want to be ready to go for this tournament. We’re facing five teams at once, that is no joke.
Ah relax, these aren’t real teams anyway.
How do you figure?
I mean, The GUNS? Those two guys are just promotional pieces, hired by Mongo to flash the belts and build up the show. They have a pet bear and what else? Nothing.
Um, you do realise that Venom is one of the most successful XHF superstars like, ever.
Nah, that doesn’t matter. Fuck, Price and Arnold are too! And what have they ever done recently?
...whooped our asses a couple weeks ago.
Pssh, poppycock. We’ll be fine! Plus, I already forecasted the whole night…
StormCrow starts to dance around the ring, fists up in a boxers stance.
...Bobby Barratt is gonna come up to me, get all smug...then WHAM!
He uppercuts mid-air.
Right onto his kiester. Next Skinny Pete is gonna come strutting along, his doped-up face getting close to mine, then BOOM!
Another punch to mid-air.
His midgets will run at me, I’ll take them down one by one. BOP BOP BOP! Then into the tag match, I’m gonna walk over to MOMMA-bukkake and just BLAST them away! KA-POW!
He does a masterbating motion followed by rising hand strikes.
The Darkness will come over, singing to me and serenading me with their sweet sweet music…
Uh, you know that’s not the band yeah? It’s a team of Dyla-
I’ll be all like, ‘Yeah bro’s I believe in a thing called love, it’s called WINNING!’. Then I shove my fist into their rectum, like this…
He does a gross hand motion, showing him struggling to actually put his arm in a rectum…
...then with Justin Hawkins and Dan Hawkins on my arms, I’d use them like punching gloves, and go take on Daft Punk. BIP BOP BOOM!
Team Tron, not Daft Punk…
...So it’d be funky pop rock versus electric synth, as we battle it out for the ultimate sound. I’d shoot both rectum-gloves off, rocketing them into the robots and eliminating them. Lastly the Guns come down, all prissy and teary eyed at how awesome we are, and they just beg us to fuck ‘em. But we’re no homo, so we slap them around, my hands all covered in poop and I cover them in all gross stuff. Then you come in and keep drop kicking them over and over and over until they just die or explode or they leave the ring or the match is over or you decide to pin them or submit them or jump off the top rope or maybe you could just oh my God you could do this you could elbow slam! Elbowelbowelbowelbow-
Dude! What the fuck!
Shit man...was I saying all that...or was that in my head?
Crow man, what the actual fuck is wrong with you...
Shit...that damn speedball must have crept up on me...whoa man. Starting to feel it now!
The little exercise he did in the ring, jumping and fisting the air, has now completely winded the champ, as he takes a seat on the turnbuckles. His face pales as whatever is in his system starts to run its course.
I don’t feel so good now...I mean, I feel GREAT...but not exercise ready…
Crow stands up to leave, but is met with a hard clothesline from Synn, slamming him down.
This is the first time I’ve gotten you in the ring to practise since my return. And you are twigging out on me. Sorry dude, but this is for your own good.
Synn starts to hammer down stomps on StormCrow, who is rolling around screaming on the mat, his snakeskin boots waving frantically in the air.
...oof! Stoppit!...*stomp* ouch! Synn what the-....dammit man stop!
Get up and fight back, old man!
Continuing to beat him down, Crow finally catches Synn’s boot and pushes him back, giving him enough time to roll over and onto all fours, ready to pounce like a cat. On his side, the boxing trainer enters the ring, his padded gloves ready to work Crow with some target practise. Both the trainer and Synn close in, edging towards the champion to see what he will do.
This is how we do it then?...fine.
Crow lifts a leg, unclenches his buttocks and lets out a loud fart. Probably form all the drugs going through his system right now. He smiles, then runs at Synn, headbutting his chest and driving him backwards. He lands and flurry to the midsection of Synn then front kicks him backwards. He spins to the boxer and hits the gloves, ducking the overhead sweep and blocking the side punches. Crow continues this, switching from trainer to Synn, laughing and enjoying himself. Synn cracks a few more jokes as the training of StormCrow has finally begun. The scene fades out on The Brotherhood, happily working out some moves in the ring and working on their offense game. Before cutting out, the camera pans to the bench at ringside, where Crow’s clothes lie draped across it, and on top two gleaming golden belts...one of which he shouldn't have. Oh well, suck it Dylan.
Fade out.
