Richard Blonoff
Make America Rassle Again
Deadline is Tuesday, October 22nd, 11:59 PM(CST)
All Stars 3: "Boston Strong" Robbie Lumbar vs. Recoome & Bernkastel
- Thread starter Richard Blonoff
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Off in the planet Freeza #39487, the Ginyu Force celebrates another job well done.
Burter: ....And that'ssss how we blew up Ssssspace Bossston.
Jeice: That was so awesome, mate. They were like "oh, is that a microwave?" And BOOM! Ah, crickey.
Guldo: Yeah. Hehehehehe. Yeah.
Recoome: Hey hey hey. Recoome knows what you did was awesome. But let Recoome tell ya something brother, Recoome simply had to turn left to the Smackdown on those jabronies.
Jeice: Haha. Knocked out by a stiffy. Poor blokes didn't see it comin'.
Up on a monitor the face of the great Captain Ginyu pops up ready to give new instructions to his me.
Ginyu:MEN!
Men: YES SIR!!
Ginyu: What kind of lousy clean up did you do in Space Boston anyway?!
Jeice: What ever do you mean Capt'n? I'm pretty sure we rounded up all those broncos.
Ginyu: I have just received images of a space pod leaving Space Boston. YOU SAID YOU GOT EVERYONE!
Burter: Um..... Ooppssssssssssss?
Ginyu: Ooops? OOOPS?! OOOPS!! That's all you have to say?!
Jeice: It's just one guy from Space Boston. How much harm can he do?
Ginyu: How much damage can one Space Bostonian do?! How much damage can one Space Bostonian do?!! It just takes one of those Space Irish wannabes to spew out that "Space Boston Strong" nonsense to start another rebellion against our great lord Freeza. Now get your asses in gear and get going!
Guldo: For just one guy?
Ginyu: Then just one of you go. Just get rid of that Space Boston hick. NOW! Before Lord Freeza finds out! He's in some planet called "E-Arth". Now go.
Burter: OK. Ssssounds like a pieccccce of cake.
Freeza: Ginyu! Why is Cooler snickering about how I "did it again?" Did you let a sole survivor of an annoying warrior race get away?
Ginyu: UMM! UMM! I'll stall. Now go.
The screen goes black.
Jeice: Hmmm.... So..... Who's it gonna be, mates?
Recoome: RECOOME!!! Recoome will take on this jabroni. Recoome will put this jabroni to sleep. Recoome's Gonna Kill You!
Jeice: We get it, mate. You like wrestling. Just go already.
Recoome: Yes! Yes! Yes!
Chowdah, Rasslin and Da Sahx
The camera is wobbly as a man with a great beard and mustache combo fiddles with it. His Boston pride is strong. Cans of chowder cover the kitchen shelves, Red Sox, Bruins, Celtics, Patriots memorabilia cover the walls. Robbie Lumbar steps back and focuses into the camera.
Two guys? Not a prahblem. Recoome? Fahget about it. Bahnkastel. Fahget about it. Im Bahston Strahng Robbie Lumbah. And WZCW All Stahs, you gonna see just how strahng I am.
Lumbar turns his Red Sox hat around, channeling his inner Ash Ketchum as he walks out of his kitchen and into his living room that he has turned into a make shift class room that is occupied by reluctant students
Mr. Lumbah, can we go home?
No! Just sit down.
Lumbar looks into the camera as if he is breaking the fourth wall.
I am not holding these kids hostage, they ah my buddies. I prahmise.
Today Im gonna teach you about winnahs and losahs. The Sahx, winnahs. The Bs, winnahs. The Cs winnahs. The Pats, winnahs. Chowdah, winnahs.
These guys:
Losahs.
This guy
Losah.
Losahs.
Whats the point here?
Get it through ya head kids, Robbie Lumbah is a winner. A W-I-Double N-E-Ah. Winnah. Like the chicken dinnah. But the biggest losahs of dem all, these two wicked stupid guys are losahs with capital Ls. Like the Yanks.
Recoome and Bahnkastel. There is only one kind of strong that can take one these giants. And that is Bahston strong. Im Bahston Strong. Im Robbie Lumbah and Im coming to All Stahs as hot as a bowl of chowdah baby.[/color]
But Mr. Lumbar, Recoome is like 800 feet tall and weighs like one zillion pounds.
Slight exaggahation kid, but I can take him.
But Mr. Lumbar, Bernkastel is built like a house.
Then consider me the wicked bad wolf kids cause Im gonna blow that house down. You watch your hero Robbie Lumbah at All Stahs when I give both of them the Tea Party and dumb both they asses to the outside. Thats Bahston Strong baby.
The kids cheer as Robbie runs around high fiving the kids as he runs to the kitchen and grabs cans of chowder and in sporting tradition begins to shower the room with the clumps of juicy clams, potatoes, and cream. The kids, frightened run out of the room and out the front door as Lumber shrugs his shoulder and takes a spoon full of chowder and places it in his mouth.
Now thats good chowdah.
The camera is wobbly as a man with a great beard and mustache combo fiddles with it. His Boston pride is strong. Cans of chowder cover the kitchen shelves, Red Sox, Bruins, Celtics, Patriots memorabilia cover the walls. Robbie Lumbar steps back and focuses into the camera.
Two guys? Not a prahblem. Recoome? Fahget about it. Bahnkastel. Fahget about it. Im Bahston Strahng Robbie Lumbah. And WZCW All Stahs, you gonna see just how strahng I am.
Lumbar turns his Red Sox hat around, channeling his inner Ash Ketchum as he walks out of his kitchen and into his living room that he has turned into a make shift class room that is occupied by reluctant students
Mr. Lumbah, can we go home?
No! Just sit down.
Lumbar looks into the camera as if he is breaking the fourth wall.
I am not holding these kids hostage, they ah my buddies. I prahmise.
Today Im gonna teach you about winnahs and losahs. The Sahx, winnahs. The Bs, winnahs. The Cs winnahs. The Pats, winnahs. Chowdah, winnahs.
These guys:
Losahs.
This guy
Losah.
Losahs.
Whats the point here?
Get it through ya head kids, Robbie Lumbah is a winner. A W-I-Double N-E-Ah. Winnah. Like the chicken dinnah. But the biggest losahs of dem all, these two wicked stupid guys are losahs with capital Ls. Like the Yanks.
Recoome and Bahnkastel. There is only one kind of strong that can take one these giants. And that is Bahston strong. Im Bahston Strong. Im Robbie Lumbah and Im coming to All Stahs as hot as a bowl of chowdah baby.[/color]
But Mr. Lumbar, Recoome is like 800 feet tall and weighs like one zillion pounds.
Slight exaggahation kid, but I can take him.
But Mr. Lumbar, Bernkastel is built like a house.
Then consider me the wicked bad wolf kids cause Im gonna blow that house down. You watch your hero Robbie Lumbah at All Stahs when I give both of them the Tea Party and dumb both they asses to the outside. Thats Bahston Strong baby.
The kids cheer as Robbie runs around high fiving the kids as he runs to the kitchen and grabs cans of chowder and in sporting tradition begins to shower the room with the clumps of juicy clams, potatoes, and cream. The kids, frightened run out of the room and out the front door as Lumber shrugs his shoulder and takes a spoon full of chowder and places it in his mouth.
Now thats good chowdah.
Bernkastel
Reaper of Miracles
I dont remember how I got there, and I dont remember anything about myself. Here could only be described as a small town in the center of a wine growing country in the middle of the German Rhineland. I had no recollection of how I ended up here, and for the life of me I couldnt even remember my own name.
I slowly opened my eyes and looked around. I was sitting in an alley in what appeared to be slum of some sort. My clothes were ragged, and the air was cold. I stood and tried to shake the cobwebs out of my head. I was covered in dirt, but that was the least of my worriers, as I tried to remember just how I had gotten there in the first place. Nothing; not one scrap of information, and on top of that, I was left with a conundrum that no man should ever have to face.
Who was I?
The how of why I had ended up in that situation suddenly wasnt that important, as I stumbled out of the alley I ran right into a passing couple who looked at me as if I was a beggar. The gentleman seemed intimidated by my large size, yet the woman held a look of concern on her face. As to why, I hadnt the faintest clue. My limbs began to ache as a sheering pain suddenly shot through my left arm as I grasped my shoulder. I held the muscle firmly and shook it, as the sharp pain hit me again. It felt dislocated, as I had trouble moving it, but I had nowhere to go for help. This strange place was very foreign to me; at first glance the architecture looked European, probably Dutch or German.
I wandered over to a local tavern, and stepped inside. It was warm and not very packed. The patrons only shot me a glare as I passed before going about their business. I stepped over to the restroom only to see the signs written in a foreign language, luckily for me they were marked. I entered and looked at my appearance in the mirror; my face was bleeding and I was covered in dirt. On instinct I popped my shoulder back into place, and grimaced at the pain. My pain threshold must have been quite high. I washed my face and arms in the sink the best I could and quickly checked my pockets, and found nothing.
I stepped out of the restroom and took a seat at the bar. I had no money so I couldnt order anything to drink. Instead I took the time to try and formulate my next move. The bartender approached me and said some stuff that I didnt understand. From my understanding I thought it was German. I shook my head, until he smiled.
Do you understand English?
I nodded. I found it odd that I could remember little bits and pieces of information like what language I spoke or could understand, but I couldnt remember my own name.
Are you a tourist? You look a little roughed up, friend. Were you mugged?
I sat there in silence. The man had a thick accent, but I could understand that he meant well.
I dont know. What is this is place, this town?
This is Bernkastel- Kues. Were a small lot, but we draw plenty from tourism. Many come from all over to attend our wine tasting festivals. Youre not from around here, are you?
I shook my head. No, and to be honest Im not even sure how I got here. Maybe I was mugged. I havent got any money or identification.
You speak English right, so youre probably an American. Go to the authorities and they should be able to help you.
I nodded as the man gave me some simple directions to follow on a small sheet of paper. I thanked him before I stood up and left. An American, wasnt that a country halfway around the world? The mystery was only starting to get deeper. I followed the directions and went to the authorities looking for some additional help, but without any identification and my severely limited memory, they werent able to do much for me. I didnt speak the language, so finding a means to support myself was going to be difficult. Luckily the authorities were able to put me in contact with a local businessman named Hans Armstrong who ran a small wrestling promotion that supplied talent for matches featured in traveling carnivals that toured across the district. Hans was a decent, but gruff looking man who took a liking to me because of my size. It wasnt a secret that I was a large man that towered over most, with a thick, chiseled physique that made most other men wary to approach me at all, due to my abnormal amounts of strength and stamina.
I knew nothing about the art of wrestling, so I mostly did grunt work and physical labor helping Hans wherever he needed me. After I made enough I secured a little spot for myself, and tried to assimilate with the culture as best as possible. It wasnt long before Hans approached me with an offer. He wanted to teach me how to wrestle, and book me in the local carnivals. I had the look that captivated others, and he felt that with the right training and conditioning, I could potentially be a star. I mulled over his offer for a bit, before accepting. I trained with a man named Michal who went by the stage name Lucius Bogarius. He wasnt as large as I was, but big enough to slap me around when I needed to be.
Lucius, as he liked to be called, knew a great deal about the art, and taught me everything from how to bump properly, hit properly, sell properly, and play to the audience. Like Hans, he saw potential in me, and quickly the art became second nature to me. It wasnt long before I was ready for my first match, and while it didnt go as smoothly as Id hoped, I followed Hans advice and gave it my best shot. I worked many matches against Lucius, as a domineering monster heel that would kick his ass for about ten minutes or so until hed fight back and pin me at the end. It was great storytelling, at least I had thought so, but in the back of my mind I could feel something tugging away as if trying to escape. It was almost a primordial instinct, and the rush of aggression just kind of came out. Lucius complained and berated me over working stiff, and all time I felt myself catching this urge, but I really couldnt surpress it.
It was as if my body naturally felt the desire to fight; it was a pleasure that rolled through my body like sexual desire; a drug that I just couldnt get enough of. It wasnt like I wanted to hurt people, I just wanted to enjoy the sensation that fighting brought. To the people that came to watch me perform, that was just part of my character, but deep inside the desire to cause pain, to dominate others, to cause suffering, it was there in my mind and I knew it was wrong, because it tugged on my moral fibers. And because of that I began to lose interest in wrestling. The only thing that kept me going was the steady flow of cash. I was worried that one day Id lose control and seriously hurt someone. And then where would I be? Passed out in some other alleyway in another city? No
But try as I might. As willed as I was not to give into temptation, my body found another way to give into temptation. Thats around the time I experienced my first blackout
This is a big opportunity for you, said Hans one day.
We had both traveled to Berlin to see a show put on by WZCW, one of the largest and most prestigious wrestling promotions in the world. They had so many talented performers I was in awe watching them all. The hard hits, the epic stories, and the heartfelt wins and losses; it was all magnificent. And I knew then that I wanted to make that my goal. To one day become a performer in that promotion, and to see America again, my country.
Hans had claimed to have gotten a hold of an acquaintance that knew a guy that knew a guy, who had a guy that owed him a favor, who knew one of the road agents for WZCW. As it turned out the old man wasnt crazy and eventually spoke with one of the talent recruiters about a possible tryout match for the company. I was elated, until I figured out what the agent had in mind.
WZCW All Stars is the perfect place for you to showcase yourself. You can run wild and experience the sensations of fighting all you like there. Theyll be many of strong opponents looking to make a name for themselves. Dont back down from this; you said this was your goal right, to be a WZCW superstar?
I shook my head, All Stars is like the real thing though; were like the minor leaguers that get lucky enough to play ball with the pros for a day. Its not the same.
But its endorsed by the main stars on the roster; look at last year, all who attended and participated. This is an excellent way to get your foot though the door. Dont let this opportunity pass you by!
Eventually I lamented and conceded and soon I found myself on a plane headed for the States. It was the first time in years that I got to see my home country again that I could barely contain my excitement. The arena was enormous despite this being one of the lesser shows on the yearly PPV schedule. I got to meet so many interesting people that I was grateful to myself for choosing to participate. And on the inside I could barely contain my desires; my blood was boiling. To be in the ring, in a contest of skill and wits; I wasnt going to make things easy for my opponents. With me they would receive nothing but a wall; an impossible obstacle looking to flatten them as soon as they dropped their guard. It was the trill that I received from watching them struggle against me. How long would they last, I began to wonder.
My opponent, I came to find out, was a man by the name of Boston Strong Robbie Lumbar. I spoke with him very briefly backstage and the guy came across like an arrogant prick. Oh, how I wanted to break him in half right there. But I restrained myself, because I knew Id get the chance soon. My partner, as Id come to find out, was a large lumbering man that somehow even dwarfed me. I havent met many people that were larger than I was, but this Recoome was by far the largest that I had. He didnt seem too bright though. Not that I was one to talk; any sense of self I seemed to have went out the window as soon as I blacked out. And they didnt happen voluntarily; I had to be pushed to fight, and this Lumbar idiot was just begging for it.
The backstage interviewer, a cute little blond woman whose name I cant remember Madison or something or another - approached me for a questionnaire.
What is your name, big guy?
I remained emotionless, feeling put off that I wasnt even able to answer the simplest of questions.
I dont know. I cant remember.
She batted an eyebrow at me, but I wasnt trying to be mysterious. I really did not know the answer.
Oh, a mystery man; I like that. And what brings you to All Stars?
I smirked a bit, I heard thered be strong opponents here, and I came to see for myself just how good they really were.
WZCW attracts the best competitors in the world
Her voice trailed off as I turned slightly to the left. Out of the corner of my eye I could see my opponent Robbie Lumbar chatting up one of the girls that worked backstage. Our eyes met and we shared a glare. I knew right there that the challenge had been laid down, and I reveled in the fact that Id soon be using his body to paint the canvas red.
Mr. Mystery Man, are you listening to me?
I turned to face her again. I asked you about your opponent, Boston Strong Robbie Lumbar.
I shrugged, He seems like a swell guy, a real class act.
I'll kill him. I'll kill him. Hes dead. Hes a dead man.
My sarcasm masked my ill intent; now of course I had no desire to actually kill the man, I just wanted to savor his screams as I played with him in front of thousands of people. Did that make me a monster? Perhaps, but I couldnt tell you either way, because I dont remember anything after my blackouts. Seeing red wasnt a good term, because rarely was I angry. And it wasnt the fact that I was hurting people that gave me pleasure. It was the trill; the sensation I got from fighting. Robbie Lumbar laid down the challenge and I was going to put him in his place. The world would know my name after this.
Right
She said with a deadpanned look.
And where are you from Mr. Mystery Man, or did you forget that too?
I smiled for the first time, Im from Bernkastel. If you want to call me something, call me that. Its the only name Ill remember.
I turned and walked away, leaving the girl with an amused look on her face. Was I mysterious? Maybe to some, but the truth of the matter is that I just came here to fight.
Some Years Ago
I slowly opened my eyes and looked around. I was sitting in an alley in what appeared to be slum of some sort. My clothes were ragged, and the air was cold. I stood and tried to shake the cobwebs out of my head. I was covered in dirt, but that was the least of my worriers, as I tried to remember just how I had gotten there in the first place. Nothing; not one scrap of information, and on top of that, I was left with a conundrum that no man should ever have to face.
Who was I?
The how of why I had ended up in that situation suddenly wasnt that important, as I stumbled out of the alley I ran right into a passing couple who looked at me as if I was a beggar. The gentleman seemed intimidated by my large size, yet the woman held a look of concern on her face. As to why, I hadnt the faintest clue. My limbs began to ache as a sheering pain suddenly shot through my left arm as I grasped my shoulder. I held the muscle firmly and shook it, as the sharp pain hit me again. It felt dislocated, as I had trouble moving it, but I had nowhere to go for help. This strange place was very foreign to me; at first glance the architecture looked European, probably Dutch or German.
I wandered over to a local tavern, and stepped inside. It was warm and not very packed. The patrons only shot me a glare as I passed before going about their business. I stepped over to the restroom only to see the signs written in a foreign language, luckily for me they were marked. I entered and looked at my appearance in the mirror; my face was bleeding and I was covered in dirt. On instinct I popped my shoulder back into place, and grimaced at the pain. My pain threshold must have been quite high. I washed my face and arms in the sink the best I could and quickly checked my pockets, and found nothing.
I stepped out of the restroom and took a seat at the bar. I had no money so I couldnt order anything to drink. Instead I took the time to try and formulate my next move. The bartender approached me and said some stuff that I didnt understand. From my understanding I thought it was German. I shook my head, until he smiled.
Do you understand English?
I nodded. I found it odd that I could remember little bits and pieces of information like what language I spoke or could understand, but I couldnt remember my own name.
Are you a tourist? You look a little roughed up, friend. Were you mugged?
I sat there in silence. The man had a thick accent, but I could understand that he meant well.
I dont know. What is this is place, this town?
This is Bernkastel- Kues. Were a small lot, but we draw plenty from tourism. Many come from all over to attend our wine tasting festivals. Youre not from around here, are you?
I shook my head. No, and to be honest Im not even sure how I got here. Maybe I was mugged. I havent got any money or identification.
You speak English right, so youre probably an American. Go to the authorities and they should be able to help you.
I nodded as the man gave me some simple directions to follow on a small sheet of paper. I thanked him before I stood up and left. An American, wasnt that a country halfway around the world? The mystery was only starting to get deeper. I followed the directions and went to the authorities looking for some additional help, but without any identification and my severely limited memory, they werent able to do much for me. I didnt speak the language, so finding a means to support myself was going to be difficult. Luckily the authorities were able to put me in contact with a local businessman named Hans Armstrong who ran a small wrestling promotion that supplied talent for matches featured in traveling carnivals that toured across the district. Hans was a decent, but gruff looking man who took a liking to me because of my size. It wasnt a secret that I was a large man that towered over most, with a thick, chiseled physique that made most other men wary to approach me at all, due to my abnormal amounts of strength and stamina.
I knew nothing about the art of wrestling, so I mostly did grunt work and physical labor helping Hans wherever he needed me. After I made enough I secured a little spot for myself, and tried to assimilate with the culture as best as possible. It wasnt long before Hans approached me with an offer. He wanted to teach me how to wrestle, and book me in the local carnivals. I had the look that captivated others, and he felt that with the right training and conditioning, I could potentially be a star. I mulled over his offer for a bit, before accepting. I trained with a man named Michal who went by the stage name Lucius Bogarius. He wasnt as large as I was, but big enough to slap me around when I needed to be.
Lucius, as he liked to be called, knew a great deal about the art, and taught me everything from how to bump properly, hit properly, sell properly, and play to the audience. Like Hans, he saw potential in me, and quickly the art became second nature to me. It wasnt long before I was ready for my first match, and while it didnt go as smoothly as Id hoped, I followed Hans advice and gave it my best shot. I worked many matches against Lucius, as a domineering monster heel that would kick his ass for about ten minutes or so until hed fight back and pin me at the end. It was great storytelling, at least I had thought so, but in the back of my mind I could feel something tugging away as if trying to escape. It was almost a primordial instinct, and the rush of aggression just kind of came out. Lucius complained and berated me over working stiff, and all time I felt myself catching this urge, but I really couldnt surpress it.
It was as if my body naturally felt the desire to fight; it was a pleasure that rolled through my body like sexual desire; a drug that I just couldnt get enough of. It wasnt like I wanted to hurt people, I just wanted to enjoy the sensation that fighting brought. To the people that came to watch me perform, that was just part of my character, but deep inside the desire to cause pain, to dominate others, to cause suffering, it was there in my mind and I knew it was wrong, because it tugged on my moral fibers. And because of that I began to lose interest in wrestling. The only thing that kept me going was the steady flow of cash. I was worried that one day Id lose control and seriously hurt someone. And then where would I be? Passed out in some other alleyway in another city? No
But try as I might. As willed as I was not to give into temptation, my body found another way to give into temptation. Thats around the time I experienced my first blackout
Present Day Many Years Later
.
This is a big opportunity for you, said Hans one day.
We had both traveled to Berlin to see a show put on by WZCW, one of the largest and most prestigious wrestling promotions in the world. They had so many talented performers I was in awe watching them all. The hard hits, the epic stories, and the heartfelt wins and losses; it was all magnificent. And I knew then that I wanted to make that my goal. To one day become a performer in that promotion, and to see America again, my country.
Hans had claimed to have gotten a hold of an acquaintance that knew a guy that knew a guy, who had a guy that owed him a favor, who knew one of the road agents for WZCW. As it turned out the old man wasnt crazy and eventually spoke with one of the talent recruiters about a possible tryout match for the company. I was elated, until I figured out what the agent had in mind.
WZCW All Stars is the perfect place for you to showcase yourself. You can run wild and experience the sensations of fighting all you like there. Theyll be many of strong opponents looking to make a name for themselves. Dont back down from this; you said this was your goal right, to be a WZCW superstar?
I shook my head, All Stars is like the real thing though; were like the minor leaguers that get lucky enough to play ball with the pros for a day. Its not the same.
But its endorsed by the main stars on the roster; look at last year, all who attended and participated. This is an excellent way to get your foot though the door. Dont let this opportunity pass you by!
Eventually I lamented and conceded and soon I found myself on a plane headed for the States. It was the first time in years that I got to see my home country again that I could barely contain my excitement. The arena was enormous despite this being one of the lesser shows on the yearly PPV schedule. I got to meet so many interesting people that I was grateful to myself for choosing to participate. And on the inside I could barely contain my desires; my blood was boiling. To be in the ring, in a contest of skill and wits; I wasnt going to make things easy for my opponents. With me they would receive nothing but a wall; an impossible obstacle looking to flatten them as soon as they dropped their guard. It was the trill that I received from watching them struggle against me. How long would they last, I began to wonder.
My opponent, I came to find out, was a man by the name of Boston Strong Robbie Lumbar. I spoke with him very briefly backstage and the guy came across like an arrogant prick. Oh, how I wanted to break him in half right there. But I restrained myself, because I knew Id get the chance soon. My partner, as Id come to find out, was a large lumbering man that somehow even dwarfed me. I havent met many people that were larger than I was, but this Recoome was by far the largest that I had. He didnt seem too bright though. Not that I was one to talk; any sense of self I seemed to have went out the window as soon as I blacked out. And they didnt happen voluntarily; I had to be pushed to fight, and this Lumbar idiot was just begging for it.
The backstage interviewer, a cute little blond woman whose name I cant remember Madison or something or another - approached me for a questionnaire.
What is your name, big guy?
I remained emotionless, feeling put off that I wasnt even able to answer the simplest of questions.
I dont know. I cant remember.
She batted an eyebrow at me, but I wasnt trying to be mysterious. I really did not know the answer.
Oh, a mystery man; I like that. And what brings you to All Stars?
I smirked a bit, I heard thered be strong opponents here, and I came to see for myself just how good they really were.
WZCW attracts the best competitors in the world
Her voice trailed off as I turned slightly to the left. Out of the corner of my eye I could see my opponent Robbie Lumbar chatting up one of the girls that worked backstage. Our eyes met and we shared a glare. I knew right there that the challenge had been laid down, and I reveled in the fact that Id soon be using his body to paint the canvas red.
Mr. Mystery Man, are you listening to me?
I turned to face her again. I asked you about your opponent, Boston Strong Robbie Lumbar.
I shrugged, He seems like a swell guy, a real class act.
I'll kill him. I'll kill him. Hes dead. Hes a dead man.
My sarcasm masked my ill intent; now of course I had no desire to actually kill the man, I just wanted to savor his screams as I played with him in front of thousands of people. Did that make me a monster? Perhaps, but I couldnt tell you either way, because I dont remember anything after my blackouts. Seeing red wasnt a good term, because rarely was I angry. And it wasnt the fact that I was hurting people that gave me pleasure. It was the trill; the sensation I got from fighting. Robbie Lumbar laid down the challenge and I was going to put him in his place. The world would know my name after this.
Right
She said with a deadpanned look.
And where are you from Mr. Mystery Man, or did you forget that too?
I smiled for the first time, Im from Bernkastel. If you want to call me something, call me that. Its the only name Ill remember.
I turned and walked away, leaving the girl with an amused look on her face. Was I mysterious? Maybe to some, but the truth of the matter is that I just came here to fight.
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