AS 116 - Batti & Blades versus LeBelle & Keaton
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Jeff Deliverer of Mail
Money for nothin, chicks for free
Welcome to Late Night Talk with George Stroumboulopoulos. As you can only guess, Im George Stroumboulopoulos!
The live audience applauded as George took a step back and opened his arms with a wide smile. He wore casual jeans with a black t-shirt and leather jacket. As the camera panned back ever so slightly, the viewers at home could see the two red, love seat-type chairs set up. The chairs were turned towards each other for the purpose of one on one interviews.
Tonight we have a very special guest from right here in Toronto Ontario Canada! George pointed to the ground each of the last three words. The live audience cheered more in anticipation.
Hes a wrestler in WZCW, give a warm welcome to REMARKABLE MAAAARK KEATON!!!
Mark Keatons entrance theme blared throughout the studio and Mark strolled through the curtain to a loud applause from the live Canadian audience. He had a leather jacket on with sparkling rhinestones all over it, he didnt wear a shirt under it and let his muscles breath some air. He wore almost identical jeans that George had on.
He shook hands with George and gave the crowds a devil horns sign and his trademark sneer before taking his seat. George settled in and got the interview started.
Welcome Mark, glad to have you on the show tonight.
Its your pleasure Im here George.
Right. Well, how have you been?
Good. Thanks for asking, man. Mark stood up and started walking back towards the curtain.
George jumped to his feet and called out to him, Mark! Hey Mark, wait! The interview isnt over yet!
Sorry, Mark laughed and lit a smoke,I thought that was it. Ill sit back down,George Strom,Stomotop Stombobobobobo .whatever the hell your last name is! Mark plopped back in his chair and let out double streams of cigarette smoke out of his nostrils.
Thank you. George put his hand to his own cheek to block out everyones view of his mouth and whispered,Can you please put out that smoke? We have fire regulations in the building.
Mark shook his head and flicked the smoke past the camera man. The crowd continued laughing.
Tell me, how are you feeling now that the tag team division has been expunged from WZCW?
Mark slightly shook his head in annoyance, it was clearly a subject he wasnt comfortable talking about.
Listen. Im not happy about it, Ill never be happy about it dude. When officials came to take away my tag team championship, lets just say were lucky the cameras werent rolling because it wasnt my greatest moment in WZCW. I havent thrown a tantrum like that since I was a little Keaton. I can hold my head up and say Im one half of the very last tag team champions in the history of the company, but theres still a piece of my heart missing. Im like Link, walking around making that annoying loud noise when hes low on health.
But you have to admit, it had to be done. There was only one team to challenge you guys.
Ya, I can agree with that George. Vis Imperium were going to soar on and become the greatest, untouchable tag team in the history of wrestling. But theres too many cowards in WZCW to team up and try to take us down. Vis Imperium will continue on anyway. Constantine said we were already the strongest force WZCW has ever seen.
Constantine then defeated you in a Mayhem match to win the Mayhem Championship soon after. How did you feel about the whole match and John Constantine as an opponent? George took a sip of water.
Ive been battling Constantine since last season. Hes taken me down on more than one occasion and Ive taken him down as well. On Meltdown, John was the better man and he certainly deserves that Mayhem Championship around his waist. Heres a little background information nobody knows George .
Whats that?
When John hit me in the head with my own electric guitar, it caused me to get a concussion. Doctors have been trying to keep me off the shows until the week before the next PPV. I shouldnt have been fighting Batti at all George. She knew it too. I told her when the match started to not hit me in the head,man. But did she listen? NO! And people cheer her on! I totally dont get it! How uncaring can one cartoon character be? I was a damn warrior-hero just competing with a concussion because Vis Imperium needed to be seen. Im the hero in that situation.
Vis Imperium then grew by three more men with the addition of Mr. Banks, Xander LeBelle and his manager Adonis. What do you think about the future of Vis Imperium right now?
What do I think? How can it get any better man?! We have The Power Trip , Mayhem Champion, we have the Elite Openweight Champion and his equally smart manager, we have the OWNER OF THE F(BLEEP) ING COMPANY MR. BANKS! Ha ha ha!! Best of all, we have the Rookie of the Year, Tag Team of the year, multiple award winning two time tag team champion and final tag champion .me.I mean look at all those Italic's I had to use right there, awesome man, awesome. Mark opened a beer and took a swig, foam started to dribble down his chin but he quickly wiped it away.
Mark, come on. You cant drink in here either.
I can do whatever the hell I want to. Ask Mr. Banks. Hell tell you that.
When we come back .more Remarkable Mark Keaton.
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Welcome back to Late Night Talk with George Stroumboulopoulos. Im here with the award winning Remarkable Mark Keaton. Probably the most popular sports figure in Canada right now.
Mark Keaton laughed and took another swig of his beer.
Listen, Im a fan of WZCW. Ive been watching closely of late Mark.
Thats good, George. You should write a book about that.
What Ive been noticing lately, and this was really noticeable against your match with Batti, there is an RMK following starting to happen around the world. RMK chants are popping up, signs are appearing. People are really warming up to you.
You dont know the half of it George. There is a cult-like following on the internet too. Ha ! These people call themselves the RMK GROUPIE DISTRICT.
Ive seen it. Put up the graphic Jim. Both men turned around to view the large screen behind them.
RMK GROUPIE DISTRICT
What do you say to this following? What do you say to your new legion of fans Mark? George started laughing and getting the fans involved.
They can work on the crappy graphics. I have to admit though, I like the cheers when Canadians do it! EH!? Damn Americans dont know how to cheer on a true Canadian Hero like myself. You know I have Mr. Banks ear and I bet hes going to take my ideas of having more shows in Canada so I get get a home field advantage more often. Im always the away team, its really not fair, dude! Plus, Canadian women are WAY hotter! Get hotter American women! Seriously!
The crowd laughed followed by RMK chants.
Plus! Dont forget to buy Vis Imperium and RMK merch! I like money!
Moving on, Mikey Stormrage and Tyrone Blades have started to fight the power, so to speak. How do you think Vis Imperium is going to deal with this new threat to the gang?
Listen George, Im gonna hit it to ya straight here, alright? Im worried about these two guys. Both of them having nothing to lose. Like two rats on a sinking ship, theyre fighting and biting for theyre lives right now. Vis Imperium controls all though. Well find a way to crush these little rats. Well, Stormrage isnt that little .hes more like one of those huge Muskrats that scurry around swamps, looking for Tacos. All I can say is that Im one of the soldiers man, Im not the brains of this operation. Mr. Banks will know what to do and Constantine will arrange the troops so we cant lose. Blades can come at us all he wants with those shitty baseball bats, Ill be ready with chairs and brass knuckles. Stormrage is easy, well just throw a burrito in a dumpster and watch him dive in for it, then slam it shut. Fool proof, baby! Mark opened his third beer.
What about ..?
What about Vox? Have you seen this guy George? Hes got these great causes and I think you should be opening the wallet and donating some of those ten dollar bills youve got stuffed in there.
Ill send in some money, for sure. Vox has a shot at The Mayhem Championship on Meltdown against John Constantine.
Well, save that ten dollars for flowers George. Vox is going to need all the cheering up he can get when hes in the hospital after that match. Mark Keaton then jumped up and did a double devil horns to the crowd to get them going again.
RMK! RMK! RMK!
Then on Ascension, its Batti and Tyrone Blades vs you and Xander LeBelle in a tag team match.
Thats right. Back in the tag team scene. Batti and Tyrone dont stand a chance! By Ascension, Ill be cleared to compete by the doctors and Ill have Xander LeBelle with me! I cant wait! Stormrage wont be far away and itll be a war, I just love chaos, dude! Bring it on!
How do you think youll get along with Xander LeBelle? Both of you have never tagged up before.
I dont have any worries about LeBelle, man. Hes the Elite Openweight Champion of the world. The WORLD, George Stromopopobob boob..what ever the hell .change that last name will ya? LeBelle is Vis Imperium now, I dont have to worry about a thing. I just need to concentrate on my own game plan and win the match for the both of us. I have a score to settle with that tiny, little Fatti thing..what the hell is she anyway man? I mean really? Im starting to get scared here. Is she an alien or what?
We are running low on time, Mark. Go ahead and stand up and do a promo for your opponents on Ascension for the fans. George smiled and motioned towards the camera for Mark to stand up.
Mark stood up and an empty beer bottle fell off of his lap and smashed on the floor. He didnt bat an eye and walked right in front of the camera. He sneered and began ..
Batti ..Ive had you stuck in here, my injured head, since our match where you ruthlessly kicked me in the skull when you knew I had a concussion. I know what to expect now, I know how fast you are and what planet youre from. You can jump around and act all cute and cuddly, you can cover your mouth and giggle, you can kick your damn beach balls around and call your teenage pals on your pink, teddy bear phone . BUT THIS AINT NO PAJAMA PARTY!
Mark ripped both sleeves off of his leather jacket in a show of strength, he then flexed both of his biceps for the camera. They were really the best biceps in WZCW.
See these guns? You stupid cartoon character?! These guns are gonna MOW YOUR ASS DOWN! VHS LARIAT! BAM!! Then, if I feel like it, Ill hit you with a Very Rude Awakening just for revenge or that uncaring head kick you gave me.
Thats all the time we have for
SHUT THE HELL UP GEORGE!! You said I had the camera for this friggin promo! Now shut up and Ill close the show, you stupid looking bitch!
A big oooooh from the crowds with some laughter thrown in.
Can we get security in here?
Go ahead, assholes! Mark turned to the camera again and did a double flex of his biceps.
See those guns Tyrone? Ya, you probably thought I forgot about your stupid face. I want you to bring your skinny ass to Ascension with everything youve got. Remember, I have Super Justin Cooper just a phone call away. My pal Justin knows just how to beat you in that ring. WZCW historians are already calling last season - The Year of Cooper-
I bet that irritates you eh? Gets under your skin just a little? He came along, scooped up a noob like me and soared through the ranks, burning up team after team including that, damn, what was their name? Potatoes of Chaos? Ya, burned them up too. But we just didnt burn up that team, we burned up the great Ty Burna too. Vanished, ran for the hills after that devastating loss. We were wondering about the funeral for that Mask Dragonman too forgot his name, Dragonface? I dont know and I dont care. Unimportant. Then this new version of Ty Burna comes along, Tyrone Blades, everyone in the world can see its still you Ty Burna! But that didnt even matter! Cooper threw you out at Lethal Lottery then beat you again, one on one!
Mark ripped the rest of his jacket off to show off his ripped chest and abs.
Now youre hiding in the shadows. Attacking with baseball bats? Wrong sport, bastard! Ill be on the horn with Cooper right up until Ascension to see what makes you tick. Cooper could beat you at every turn and I want some of that knowledge! Ill click your clack man! Batti and Tyrone, when youre crawling across the mat, begging me and Xander to stop stomping you over and over again, well just laugh and continue until both of you run for the hills again!!!!
Dozens of security guards appeared in the studio and made their way towards Keaton. He gave them a smile, turned towards the camera and flashed another evil grin ..
LONG LIVE VIS IMPERIUM!
"Where is it that you are leading me?"
"You wanna rock, Herr Richie Rich? We're gonna get you a matching uniform, so we can be The Sexlord and the Mindlord! We'll be SEX IMPERIUM!"
"...Do not desecrate what is without a doubt the greatest collection of talents WZCW has ever seen once more, or this night is over. And never refer to me by any nicknames you have conceived, either."
"NOTED! YEEEEAAAH!"
When Xander LeBelle asked himself, as he always did when he was unsure of a question, how he could better connect to his partner, the answer seemed simple. To fire on all cylinders, it was best to make sure that you and your opponent saw eye-to-eye. After all, Xander attributed part of his success in the world of tag team wrestling to just how well what seemed like an odd couple with him and The Beard, truly got to know eachother.
Unfortunately, Remarkable Mark was busy, so a replacement had to be made. Luckily, it was surprisingly easy for a man of Xander's caliber and wealth to get in contact with another rock star. Unfortunately for Xander, that man was--
"Tonight's forecast...is 'Claude-y' with a chance of '*Dreiz'.YEEEEAAAHH!"
Him.
Claude*Dreiz, a one hit wonder rock star, currently in the process of reinventing himself with a career in dubstep. Still, Xander was never wrong, so however unpleasant this encounter was, what it would do in the long run would more than make up for it. After Tyrone had humiliated him, and Batti had humiliated his manager, he was in a fit of internalized rage towards his opponents. Still, he wasn't going to be desperate about it, that was beneath him. Xander would simply make the change necessary within himself to guarantee that success. If anyone could do it, clearly it was himself.
"WE'RE HEEEEERE!"Claude said, in the worst attempt at a German accent Xander had ever heard.
Xander looked above his head at the place Claude had taken him:
'FIVE DOLLARS OR LESS', not an advertisement for a deal; that was the name of the store. It certainly explained why his fashion sense was the 'I fell into a closet back in the eighties and hadn't changed since' look.
"Fine, but I choose what I pick up from here."
"NOTED! YEAH! YEEEEEEEAAAAAH! " Claude yelled at the top of his lungs.
Xander thanked his stars he had left the care of the Elite Openweight Championship in a secluded safe in his mansion. To even walk in the store was the greatest thing that had ever happened to this place.
"I suppose this all could be worse." Xander posited. "[coilor=FireBrick]I could be at the Hot Topic across the hall where the mind-rotted, media obsessed messes with delusional ideas and outlooks on the world, and the rebels who refuse to move on with the rest of us, so they immerse themselves in the things of the past where they felt safe. That place is a Neverland for people like them. What they believe to be a fantasy, any sane man would know is an absolute horror.[/color]"
Although he hated to admit it, this place didn't look any better. The entire section for male specific crop tops was indicative of that.
"WHOA! NICE MAN TOP! I need to get me this one." Claude said, proving Xander right, as he picked out the absolute ugliest, most eye-searing one of the bunch.
After an hour of searching through the whole store, setting his standards much lower, searching the store again, setting his standards much, much, much lower this time, and then searching it for a third time, he found some clothes that he would maybe wear if a gun was at his head, and then went off to the changing room.
Every single part of this place Xander absolutely despised. Even the changing rooms were cramped, unclean, and smelled vaguely of a trash can. A clothing store that only sold tight jeans, ripped jeans, or ripped tight jeans shouldn't have existed, but he was in it. Worse yet, there wasn't a single shirt that had both sleeves on it, but Xander couldn't tell if that was a 'fashion choice' or if all of these were just used. He walked out, dressed in an aeshtetic that was somewhere between 'workout clothes for a man with a personal gym' and 'a 90's party costume by someone who decided to come at the last minute'.
"LOOKIN FINE, YEAH YEAH! ...I hope ya can pay for it. My clothes, too 'cause I don't have my wallet." Claude said, dipping into what was clearly his real voice, a Canadian accent.
That was the straw that broke the camel's back.
"...When I had asked my servants to find me a replacement for Remarkable Mark so that I could get into his head to test, I believe they may have misinterpreted just what kind of a man that Marcus really is."
"Eh?"
Claude*Dreiz didn't catch any of that.
"He may be a musician, like you are. He may have a level of super-stardom, something which....you absolutely lack but believe you have. But while we may have different personalities, I know where our common ground lies. We are both the idols of the modern era, we are both stars with reputations that far exceed that of the pond we all swim in, and we make up isn't an alliance, it's wrestling's pantheon."
"Panda-what? What are ya talkin aboot?"
"I said a Pantheon. It's a collection of Gods, each sharing the label of a deity, but more often than not, they all bring to the table at least one thing that they are truly unmatched in it. Constantine's persistence and dedication, Keaton's charisma, and of course, my wisdom are unmatched. Then you have Mr. Banks, who has run WZCW for many years, and knows that without a doubt that these three are the absolute best people for their job that he could have ever hired. They're too unmatched in their skills simply to be replaced. There's a politician, and then there's Constantine. There's a musician, and then there's Mark Keaton. There's a scholar, and then there's Xander LeBelle. There's those who live life and become relevant names for a few years, and then the people who for millennia shall be remembered for being the best of their kind forever."
"...What's all that mean?"
Xander gripped Claude's shoulders, pinching at them with far more anger than Xander's calmed expression would ever tell you.
"In other words, you have wasted my time with your mediocrity and expendability."
Without another word, Xander pushed Claude back into the wall, knocking down two clothing racks in the process and spilling the rest of the ugly, outdated clothing on the shelves onto the floor.
"HEY!" the lady at the counter yelled. "You're gonna pay for that!"
"Everything here is five dollars or less anyways. Send the bill to Adonis Studios.I shall deal with it from there."
That shut the lady at the counter up.
"Vis Imperium will do just fine no matter what. Chemistry building, or no chemistry building. We're the best in our category, and even Tyrone and Batti can't match that distinction. And I know that we'll be fine, because if you haven't been following along, and I know you haven't been, my wisdom is truly one of a kind. Some would call it otherworldly, but I believe the world is a far more interesting place when you look closer.."
Xander bent down to his knees to whisper one last message to the dazed rock star with the devil's grin on his face.
"...Hail...Vis...Imperium."
"You wanna rock, Herr Richie Rich? We're gonna get you a matching uniform, so we can be The Sexlord and the Mindlord! We'll be SEX IMPERIUM!"
"...Do not desecrate what is without a doubt the greatest collection of talents WZCW has ever seen once more, or this night is over. And never refer to me by any nicknames you have conceived, either."
"NOTED! YEEEEAAAH!"
When Xander LeBelle asked himself, as he always did when he was unsure of a question, how he could better connect to his partner, the answer seemed simple. To fire on all cylinders, it was best to make sure that you and your opponent saw eye-to-eye. After all, Xander attributed part of his success in the world of tag team wrestling to just how well what seemed like an odd couple with him and The Beard, truly got to know eachother.
Unfortunately, Remarkable Mark was busy, so a replacement had to be made. Luckily, it was surprisingly easy for a man of Xander's caliber and wealth to get in contact with another rock star. Unfortunately for Xander, that man was--
"Tonight's forecast...is 'Claude-y' with a chance of '*Dreiz'.YEEEEAAAHH!"
Him.
Claude*Dreiz, a one hit wonder rock star, currently in the process of reinventing himself with a career in dubstep. Still, Xander was never wrong, so however unpleasant this encounter was, what it would do in the long run would more than make up for it. After Tyrone had humiliated him, and Batti had humiliated his manager, he was in a fit of internalized rage towards his opponents. Still, he wasn't going to be desperate about it, that was beneath him. Xander would simply make the change necessary within himself to guarantee that success. If anyone could do it, clearly it was himself.
"WE'RE HEEEEERE!"Claude said, in the worst attempt at a German accent Xander had ever heard.
Xander looked above his head at the place Claude had taken him:
'FIVE DOLLARS OR LESS', not an advertisement for a deal; that was the name of the store. It certainly explained why his fashion sense was the 'I fell into a closet back in the eighties and hadn't changed since' look.
"Fine, but I choose what I pick up from here."
"NOTED! YEAH! YEEEEEEEAAAAAH! " Claude yelled at the top of his lungs.
Xander thanked his stars he had left the care of the Elite Openweight Championship in a secluded safe in his mansion. To even walk in the store was the greatest thing that had ever happened to this place.
"I suppose this all could be worse." Xander posited. "[coilor=FireBrick]I could be at the Hot Topic across the hall where the mind-rotted, media obsessed messes with delusional ideas and outlooks on the world, and the rebels who refuse to move on with the rest of us, so they immerse themselves in the things of the past where they felt safe. That place is a Neverland for people like them. What they believe to be a fantasy, any sane man would know is an absolute horror.[/color]"
Although he hated to admit it, this place didn't look any better. The entire section for male specific crop tops was indicative of that.
"WHOA! NICE MAN TOP! I need to get me this one." Claude said, proving Xander right, as he picked out the absolute ugliest, most eye-searing one of the bunch.
After an hour of searching through the whole store, setting his standards much lower, searching the store again, setting his standards much, much, much lower this time, and then searching it for a third time, he found some clothes that he would maybe wear if a gun was at his head, and then went off to the changing room.
Every single part of this place Xander absolutely despised. Even the changing rooms were cramped, unclean, and smelled vaguely of a trash can. A clothing store that only sold tight jeans, ripped jeans, or ripped tight jeans shouldn't have existed, but he was in it. Worse yet, there wasn't a single shirt that had both sleeves on it, but Xander couldn't tell if that was a 'fashion choice' or if all of these were just used. He walked out, dressed in an aeshtetic that was somewhere between 'workout clothes for a man with a personal gym' and 'a 90's party costume by someone who decided to come at the last minute'.
"LOOKIN FINE, YEAH YEAH! ...I hope ya can pay for it. My clothes, too 'cause I don't have my wallet." Claude said, dipping into what was clearly his real voice, a Canadian accent.
That was the straw that broke the camel's back.
"...When I had asked my servants to find me a replacement for Remarkable Mark so that I could get into his head to test, I believe they may have misinterpreted just what kind of a man that Marcus really is."
"Eh?"
Claude*Dreiz didn't catch any of that.
"He may be a musician, like you are. He may have a level of super-stardom, something which....you absolutely lack but believe you have. But while we may have different personalities, I know where our common ground lies. We are both the idols of the modern era, we are both stars with reputations that far exceed that of the pond we all swim in, and we make up isn't an alliance, it's wrestling's pantheon."
"Panda-what? What are ya talkin aboot?"
"I said a Pantheon. It's a collection of Gods, each sharing the label of a deity, but more often than not, they all bring to the table at least one thing that they are truly unmatched in it. Constantine's persistence and dedication, Keaton's charisma, and of course, my wisdom are unmatched. Then you have Mr. Banks, who has run WZCW for many years, and knows that without a doubt that these three are the absolute best people for their job that he could have ever hired. They're too unmatched in their skills simply to be replaced. There's a politician, and then there's Constantine. There's a musician, and then there's Mark Keaton. There's a scholar, and then there's Xander LeBelle. There's those who live life and become relevant names for a few years, and then the people who for millennia shall be remembered for being the best of their kind forever."
"...What's all that mean?"
Xander gripped Claude's shoulders, pinching at them with far more anger than Xander's calmed expression would ever tell you.
"In other words, you have wasted my time with your mediocrity and expendability."
Without another word, Xander pushed Claude back into the wall, knocking down two clothing racks in the process and spilling the rest of the ugly, outdated clothing on the shelves onto the floor.
"HEY!" the lady at the counter yelled. "You're gonna pay for that!"
"Everything here is five dollars or less anyways. Send the bill to Adonis Studios.I shall deal with it from there."
That shut the lady at the counter up.
"Vis Imperium will do just fine no matter what. Chemistry building, or no chemistry building. We're the best in our category, and even Tyrone and Batti can't match that distinction. And I know that we'll be fine, because if you haven't been following along, and I know you haven't been, my wisdom is truly one of a kind. Some would call it otherworldly, but I believe the world is a far more interesting place when you look closer.."
Xander bent down to his knees to whisper one last message to the dazed rock star with the devil's grin on his face.
"...Hail...Vis...Imperium."
Ty Burna
Getting Noticed By Management
Batti: Rammikun! Rammikun!
The scene opens to Batti Otaku rushing into the gym where she had been spending many days training under the tutelage of her boyfriend Ramparte and Action Saxton. Ramparte sits in his wheel chair in front of the ring, his mind racing as he stares down at his phone, a look of panic washing over his face.
Batti: Rammikun! Did you hear? I get to team with Tyrone Blades against those mean Vis Imperium guys! Isn't this exciting?
Ramparte slowly spins his wheelchair around towards his girlfriend, gritting his teeth as he tries not to yell out in anger. Batti's exuberant expression slowly dissipates as she sees the look on his face.
Ramparte: Absolutely not. There's no way I'm letting you get involved with The Hollow Ones and their war with Vis Imperium. Batti, they'll chew you up and spit you out!
Batti: But.....but Rammikun....
Ramparte: Batti, don't you remember that Tyrone Blades is partly to blame for me being stuck in this fucking wheel chair in the first place?!?
Batti withdraws a bit, tears starting to form in her eyes as she lowers her head, trying not to cry over Ramparte's outburst. Ramparte's seething eyes suddenly soften as he wheels himself over to her, placing his hand on her shoulder.
Ramparte: Batti....
Batti: Tyrone..he said nice things about me last week though. I'n still going to hurt him badly even if he did say I could maybe be the number one contender the Elite Openweight title, do you think I could do that Rammikun?
Batti looks up, her eyes widen and puppy dog like as she stares into his eyes. Ramparte relents as he leans down and hugs her, holding her close.
Ramparte: I think you can reach for the stars Batti, but you must remember that you're still training to be a wrestler. But you must remember who you're teaming with. Tyrone Blades can turn on you in an instance and make your life a living nightmare, and doesn't need a reason to. I'm just trying to look out for you Batti. I'm calling Banks to get this match thrown out.
Batti: Ramparte! You can't!
Batti pulls away quickly as her doe eyes change to a determined look, grasping hold of Ramparte's arms tightly as she slowly gets to her feet.
Batti: I need to do this Rammikun. I can't run away from a tough situation. I need to beat that jackass Xander LeBelle this time around, if he's got the balls to actually fight me this time! And I get to team with a Hall of Famer! Rammikun! When I'm done with Vis Imperium, I can turn around and hurt The Hollow Ones for hurting you! I can make them feel what you've gone through, and make things right! Let's start training!
Batti excitedly runs past Ramparte, sliding into the ring as she begins stretching in the ring, putting a set of earbuds in to jam out while she warms up.
Tyrone: I'd say she's got the right idea Ramparte. After all, who better to team with then the greatest of all time?
Ramparte quickly turns his head towards the corner, as Tyrone Blades suddenly makes his presence felt, leaning against the post with his arms crossed. His hood is up and the bandanna wrapped around his face. His "manager" Mr. Jones stands next to him, a lit cigar in his mouth. Ramparte's face contorts to anger once more as he spins around, staring down The Hollow Ones.
Ramparte: You....you son of a bitch!
Tyrone turns his head towards Ramparte, his eyes showing no emotion as he stares down at the man he and Phoenix once wrecked.
Tyrone: Oh, you're still trippin' over that little beat down? Would you like me to apologize for that man?
Ramparte: It's your fault I'm paralyzed in the first place!
Tyrone: Nah homie, we didn't break your neck and cripple your worthless ass, that was your supposed friend Flex, or do I gotta go roll the tape back for you once again?
Ramparte wheels up to Tyrone, slamming his fist onto the arm rest as he stares up at The Hollow One.
Ramparte: No, you didn't cripple me but you gave Flex the opportunity to. And if I remember, you and Phoenix were stalking my hospital room wanting to finish the job.
Tyrone simply shrugs as Batti continues to run the ropes bored and completely oblivious to The Hollow Ones. Mr. Jones turns and watches her, absentmindedly puffing away at his cigar.
Tyrone: Look, Ramparte all that was going to happen was deliver a beat down. Didn't matter who it was that walked out, you just got the unlucky draw. Don't blame me for your boy secretly hating your guts and breaking your neck. And yet you sit here just acting like it was karma. Man get your ass up and fight to get back in that ring.
Ramparte: What part of I can't fucking walk do you not get? I'm stuck in this wheel chair.
Tyrone: Please, y'all just using that as an excuse so you don't have to face your god damn problems Ramparte. All you can do is mean mug a motherfucker and shout angry empty threats that you have no intention of even attempting. So why don't you roll your happy ass on out and I'll talk to the other fighter that's actually here.
Batti: Umm.....Rammikun, aren't we going to train today?
Ramparte quickly lifts a finger up, his eyes not breaking from Tyrone as he yells out towards her.
Ramparte: Not now woman!
Tyrone: Jones, get in there and spar with Batti.
Jones gets caught off guard, quickly turning his head in disbelief towards Tyrone as he puts out his cigar.
Mr. Jones: Are you fuckin' serious Blades? I'll flatten her.
Tyrone snaps his head towards Jones, his eyes narrowing over his black bandanna.
Tyrone: Did I fucking stud.d.d..dder Jones? Or do you need me to take you back to elementary school and spell it out for you? S.....p......a......r w.....i..
Mr. Jones: Man shut yo damn mouth, I'll do it. Damn it.
Jones throws his hands up as he pulls himself up onto the ring apron and enters the ring as Tyrone turns back towards Ramparte. The two continue their verbal sparring as Mr. Jones cracks his knuckles, shaking his head as he looks towards Batti. Batti turns towards Jones and a wide smile forms on her face as she takes her earbuds out.
Batti: Saxton! I didn't know you were here today!
Mr. Jones: Uh...I ain't that sucka Saxton lil' mama.
Batti blinks a few times as she quickly circles around Jones, examining him from each angle with a confused look on her face.
Batti: But you're about as big as him. And you got lotsa muscles like him. WAIT! WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR HAIR SAXTON?!
Mr. Jones: Nah, like I said I ain't Action Saxton, I'm Mr. Jones mothafu....
Batti puts a finger up to his lips, as a suddenly devilish look forms on her face. Jones' eyes widen as her eyes narrow towards him.
Batti: You......YOU'RE AN IMPOSTER!
Mr. Jones: An imposter? Wait what?!?!
Batti suddenly launches at Mr. Jones' head, tackling him to the ground as she tears at his face with her nails, throwing wild punches as Mr. Jones yells out in surprise, trying to cover up. Meanwhile Ramparte and Tyrone have begun yelling at one another on the outside.
Ramparte: I know what you're all about Tyrone! You couldn't do a damn thing to save Phoenix and now you want to use Batti as your proxy! You will not get your hands on her!
Tyrone: What in the blue hell are you going on about Ramparte? I didn't ask for a tag team match, but since your girl Batti has beaten Keaton AND Adonis like scalded dogs in back to back weeks, it's clear Vis Imperium begged Mr. Banks for a chance to get back at her. They think she's the weak link and is going to hold me back, giving them an opportunity. Truth be told it ain't her I'm worried about, I gotta deal with you being a bitch about it.
Ramparte: So me looking out for my girlfriend, who just so happens to be a rookie in the ring, is what's going to hold you back? You know what, Ty, why don't you just go fight your battle on your own and we'll do what we need to do.
Back in the ring the sound of crashing and banging can be heard under the screams of pain of Mr. Jones as he tries to crawl his way across the ring.
Mr. Jones: Hold up! Hold UP! Let's talk about this for a second here!
Suddenly Batti grabs hold of Mr. Jones' leg and drags him back towards her as Mr. Jones screams out in terror.
Batti: Imposter! Tell me what you did with the real Saxton now!
Mr. Jones: I don't know! I don't know! Please let me go!
Tyrone: You're doing her no damn favors by keeping her from this match. Iron sharpens fucking iron Ramparte, and another victory and she'll force Xander's hand into a title match. Are you really going to deprive her of that opportunity? That misogynist asshole needs to get his ass kicked, and you know that he's not going to compete in this match. He'll sit ringside while I leave his manager Adonis in a pool of fucking blood. So why not let Batti get in on the fun?
Ramparte: Look at her Ty. She's not the type to leave people face down in blood. I won't let her become like us. We ended people's careers, both of us have. We know what it's like to carry that sin on our conscience. I'm not going to let her innocence be corrupted like that. And teaming with you to go to war with Vis Imperium is doing me no favors in that regard!
Tyrone: For the love of god Ramparte, I'm not here to hand her a fucking bat and a bandanna and say, join The Hollow Ones or else. I'm here to make sure that she and I are on the same page so we can both advance our goals. Simple as that. She's the ace in the hole for this match. They know the danger I pose, they'll take her lightly even after her previous victories. We coordinate here, and we can knock those pompous bastards down a number of pegs and get what we both want. After that we go our separate ways. Clear?
Mr. Jones: Is someone going to help a brother here? For fuck's sake she's clawing at my eyes!
Ramparte looks down at his legs for a moment before he looks back up at Tyrone and nods his head hesitantly.
Ramparte: Yeah alright. This match only, after that we're done. Vis Imperium were going to target her eventually, and I suppose having you there would be a pretty good safeguard. You have to promise me this Tyrone, that you'll look out for her. Before, during, and after the match. If something happens to her, I'm going to stampede out of this god forsaken wheelchair and make your life a hell like you've done mine.
Tyrone simply nods his head as he holds his hand out, Ramparte reaching out and the two shaking hands reluctantly. In the background Mr. Jones lies on the mat, completely devastated when suddenly Batti locks in a vicious leg lock. Mr. Jones yells out in tremendous pain, the suffering etched into his face.
Mr. Jones: Nooooooo! Let me go let me go! It's going to break, oh god it's going to brea...
SNAP
Mr. Jones: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Ramparte and Tyrone suddenly turn towards the ring for the first time, both grimacing hard and a look of horror on their faces as Mr. Jones rolls all over the ring holding his leg as Batti slowly gets to one knee, a blood thirsty look on her face. Ramparte tries to wheel quickly to the ring apron. Tyrone keeping his arms crossed as he watches on, as if he's amused.
Ramparte: Batti! We discussed this!
Mr. Jones rolls to the outside as Tyrone stands over him, shaking his head. He kneels down as he pulls his bandanna down, a smirk on his face holding back an immense amount of laughter.
Tyrone: Having fun?
Mr. Jones: I think....I think that.....
Tyrone: Your leg's broken?
Mr. Jones: No, I think I'm in love.
Mr. Jones suddenly passes out as Tyrone can't help himself, letting out a boisterous laugh as he falls back to a seated position as he throws his head back.
Tyrone: Oh my god Jones, you truly are hopeless.
Batti: Rammikun, did I do something wrong?
Ramparte looks back at Tyrone, who simply shrugs his shoulders as he slowly pushes himself back up to his feet. He grabs Jones and helps him up and tJones begins limping towards the door as Tyrone walks slowly behind him when Batti suddenly calls out, finally realizing Tyrone was there.
Batti: Blades-sama!
Tyrone stops and turns towards the ring, an inquisitive look on Batti's face.
Batti: Did you mean what you said last week? That you wanted to make things right for the women in WZCW? That I could be number one contender to the Elite Openweight title?
Tyrone looks at her for a few moments, a smirk forming on his face as he simply nods towards her before turning towards Ramparte.
Tyrone: Seems your girl's got some potential Ramparte. I'll be back later after I drop the crip....I mean the gim....you know I'll just be back after I drop Jones off at the pad. We'll see if she's truly up to the task.
Tyrone and Jones walk out the door as Batti watches on, a determined look on her face as Ramparte looks up at her, a proud look on his face. The scene fades away as it returns to inside The Hollow Ones safe house, Mr. Jones sleeping on the couch with his leg elevated with Tyrone sitting at the table, cigarette in one hand, and a drink in the other. The lone light above the table swings back and forth, revealing the large amounts of cash piled up in the center.
Tyrone: John Constantine, after I take care of your apprentices alongside an over caffeinated woman, I'm gunning right for you. I can't get to Banks until I toss you over the bridge into an icy grave. Our history goes back years, from your start here in WZCW, to the Elite, to fighting over the World Title. But there's just been one thing that's always been a constant when it comes to you and I.
Tyrone takes a long drag of his cigarette before exhaling, the smoke circling around him as he takes a long drink from the bottle of whiskey.
Tyrone: I always end up on top. Even when you put me through hell a couple years ago, I wasn't the one that was broken, you suffered through a self imposed hell I left you to. I'm always going to be superior to you. Even when you held the world title while we were in the Elite, you knew full well what was going to happen and you fell for it like the sucker you are. So let's not waste time playing these fucking games again John.
Tyrone leans forward, his face covered in the shadows as the light illiuminates only his arms and hands, a stack of hundred dollar bills in front of him and the smoke of his cigarette twirling in front of him.
Tyrone: Apocalypse, let's put an end to this fucking story. Put the final chapter in the book that you can't seem to close. While I'm the end game for you, you're a road block in my way to making Banks suffer for what he has done to me. The Hollow Ones are not at full strength, but I don't need to be complete in order to destroy you and reclaim the Mayhem Title for myself. And while you provoked Mikey Stormrage, he does not know the war that we have found ourselves in. Mikey, if you are listening to me, stand aside. This is not your battle to fight. While I appreciate the assist, I do not want you interfering any further. This is something I must do, a cross I must carry on my own. So stay out of this Mikey before I must turn my attention towards you once more. I have nothing to gain from you, other than a rehash of what we have done already.
Tyrone slowly leans forward, his bandanna covered face faintly washed in light this time.
Tyrone: Money talks, and while this is a major part of what I have against Banks, it's also my pride and my principles at stake. Constantine, our duel at high noon comes very soon, and I'm gonna put that fucking bullet right between your eyes. Because no matter how hard you wish to be me, there is only one man they call Tyrone Blades.
With Love,
The Hollow Ones
The scene opens to Batti Otaku rushing into the gym where she had been spending many days training under the tutelage of her boyfriend Ramparte and Action Saxton. Ramparte sits in his wheel chair in front of the ring, his mind racing as he stares down at his phone, a look of panic washing over his face.
Batti: Rammikun! Did you hear? I get to team with Tyrone Blades against those mean Vis Imperium guys! Isn't this exciting?
Ramparte slowly spins his wheelchair around towards his girlfriend, gritting his teeth as he tries not to yell out in anger. Batti's exuberant expression slowly dissipates as she sees the look on his face.
Ramparte: Absolutely not. There's no way I'm letting you get involved with The Hollow Ones and their war with Vis Imperium. Batti, they'll chew you up and spit you out!
Batti: But.....but Rammikun....
Ramparte: Batti, don't you remember that Tyrone Blades is partly to blame for me being stuck in this fucking wheel chair in the first place?!?
Batti withdraws a bit, tears starting to form in her eyes as she lowers her head, trying not to cry over Ramparte's outburst. Ramparte's seething eyes suddenly soften as he wheels himself over to her, placing his hand on her shoulder.
Ramparte: Batti....
Batti: Tyrone..he said nice things about me last week though. I'n still going to hurt him badly even if he did say I could maybe be the number one contender the Elite Openweight title, do you think I could do that Rammikun?
Batti looks up, her eyes widen and puppy dog like as she stares into his eyes. Ramparte relents as he leans down and hugs her, holding her close.
Ramparte: I think you can reach for the stars Batti, but you must remember that you're still training to be a wrestler. But you must remember who you're teaming with. Tyrone Blades can turn on you in an instance and make your life a living nightmare, and doesn't need a reason to. I'm just trying to look out for you Batti. I'm calling Banks to get this match thrown out.
Batti: Ramparte! You can't!
Batti pulls away quickly as her doe eyes change to a determined look, grasping hold of Ramparte's arms tightly as she slowly gets to her feet.
Batti: I need to do this Rammikun. I can't run away from a tough situation. I need to beat that jackass Xander LeBelle this time around, if he's got the balls to actually fight me this time! And I get to team with a Hall of Famer! Rammikun! When I'm done with Vis Imperium, I can turn around and hurt The Hollow Ones for hurting you! I can make them feel what you've gone through, and make things right! Let's start training!
Batti excitedly runs past Ramparte, sliding into the ring as she begins stretching in the ring, putting a set of earbuds in to jam out while she warms up.
Tyrone: I'd say she's got the right idea Ramparte. After all, who better to team with then the greatest of all time?
Ramparte quickly turns his head towards the corner, as Tyrone Blades suddenly makes his presence felt, leaning against the post with his arms crossed. His hood is up and the bandanna wrapped around his face. His "manager" Mr. Jones stands next to him, a lit cigar in his mouth. Ramparte's face contorts to anger once more as he spins around, staring down The Hollow Ones.
Ramparte: You....you son of a bitch!
Tyrone turns his head towards Ramparte, his eyes showing no emotion as he stares down at the man he and Phoenix once wrecked.
Tyrone: Oh, you're still trippin' over that little beat down? Would you like me to apologize for that man?
Ramparte: It's your fault I'm paralyzed in the first place!
Tyrone: Nah homie, we didn't break your neck and cripple your worthless ass, that was your supposed friend Flex, or do I gotta go roll the tape back for you once again?
Ramparte wheels up to Tyrone, slamming his fist onto the arm rest as he stares up at The Hollow One.
Ramparte: No, you didn't cripple me but you gave Flex the opportunity to. And if I remember, you and Phoenix were stalking my hospital room wanting to finish the job.
Tyrone simply shrugs as Batti continues to run the ropes bored and completely oblivious to The Hollow Ones. Mr. Jones turns and watches her, absentmindedly puffing away at his cigar.
Tyrone: Look, Ramparte all that was going to happen was deliver a beat down. Didn't matter who it was that walked out, you just got the unlucky draw. Don't blame me for your boy secretly hating your guts and breaking your neck. And yet you sit here just acting like it was karma. Man get your ass up and fight to get back in that ring.
Ramparte: What part of I can't fucking walk do you not get? I'm stuck in this wheel chair.
Tyrone: Please, y'all just using that as an excuse so you don't have to face your god damn problems Ramparte. All you can do is mean mug a motherfucker and shout angry empty threats that you have no intention of even attempting. So why don't you roll your happy ass on out and I'll talk to the other fighter that's actually here.
Batti: Umm.....Rammikun, aren't we going to train today?
Ramparte quickly lifts a finger up, his eyes not breaking from Tyrone as he yells out towards her.
Ramparte: Not now woman!
Tyrone: Jones, get in there and spar with Batti.
Jones gets caught off guard, quickly turning his head in disbelief towards Tyrone as he puts out his cigar.
Mr. Jones: Are you fuckin' serious Blades? I'll flatten her.
Tyrone snaps his head towards Jones, his eyes narrowing over his black bandanna.
Tyrone: Did I fucking stud.d.d..dder Jones? Or do you need me to take you back to elementary school and spell it out for you? S.....p......a......r w.....i..
Mr. Jones: Man shut yo damn mouth, I'll do it. Damn it.
Jones throws his hands up as he pulls himself up onto the ring apron and enters the ring as Tyrone turns back towards Ramparte. The two continue their verbal sparring as Mr. Jones cracks his knuckles, shaking his head as he looks towards Batti. Batti turns towards Jones and a wide smile forms on her face as she takes her earbuds out.
Batti: Saxton! I didn't know you were here today!
Mr. Jones: Uh...I ain't that sucka Saxton lil' mama.
Batti blinks a few times as she quickly circles around Jones, examining him from each angle with a confused look on her face.
Batti: But you're about as big as him. And you got lotsa muscles like him. WAIT! WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR HAIR SAXTON?!
Mr. Jones: Nah, like I said I ain't Action Saxton, I'm Mr. Jones mothafu....
Batti puts a finger up to his lips, as a suddenly devilish look forms on her face. Jones' eyes widen as her eyes narrow towards him.
Batti: You......YOU'RE AN IMPOSTER!
Mr. Jones: An imposter? Wait what?!?!
Batti suddenly launches at Mr. Jones' head, tackling him to the ground as she tears at his face with her nails, throwing wild punches as Mr. Jones yells out in surprise, trying to cover up. Meanwhile Ramparte and Tyrone have begun yelling at one another on the outside.
Ramparte: I know what you're all about Tyrone! You couldn't do a damn thing to save Phoenix and now you want to use Batti as your proxy! You will not get your hands on her!
Tyrone: What in the blue hell are you going on about Ramparte? I didn't ask for a tag team match, but since your girl Batti has beaten Keaton AND Adonis like scalded dogs in back to back weeks, it's clear Vis Imperium begged Mr. Banks for a chance to get back at her. They think she's the weak link and is going to hold me back, giving them an opportunity. Truth be told it ain't her I'm worried about, I gotta deal with you being a bitch about it.
Ramparte: So me looking out for my girlfriend, who just so happens to be a rookie in the ring, is what's going to hold you back? You know what, Ty, why don't you just go fight your battle on your own and we'll do what we need to do.
Back in the ring the sound of crashing and banging can be heard under the screams of pain of Mr. Jones as he tries to crawl his way across the ring.
Mr. Jones: Hold up! Hold UP! Let's talk about this for a second here!
Suddenly Batti grabs hold of Mr. Jones' leg and drags him back towards her as Mr. Jones screams out in terror.
Batti: Imposter! Tell me what you did with the real Saxton now!
Mr. Jones: I don't know! I don't know! Please let me go!
Tyrone: You're doing her no damn favors by keeping her from this match. Iron sharpens fucking iron Ramparte, and another victory and she'll force Xander's hand into a title match. Are you really going to deprive her of that opportunity? That misogynist asshole needs to get his ass kicked, and you know that he's not going to compete in this match. He'll sit ringside while I leave his manager Adonis in a pool of fucking blood. So why not let Batti get in on the fun?
Ramparte: Look at her Ty. She's not the type to leave people face down in blood. I won't let her become like us. We ended people's careers, both of us have. We know what it's like to carry that sin on our conscience. I'm not going to let her innocence be corrupted like that. And teaming with you to go to war with Vis Imperium is doing me no favors in that regard!
Tyrone: For the love of god Ramparte, I'm not here to hand her a fucking bat and a bandanna and say, join The Hollow Ones or else. I'm here to make sure that she and I are on the same page so we can both advance our goals. Simple as that. She's the ace in the hole for this match. They know the danger I pose, they'll take her lightly even after her previous victories. We coordinate here, and we can knock those pompous bastards down a number of pegs and get what we both want. After that we go our separate ways. Clear?
Mr. Jones: Is someone going to help a brother here? For fuck's sake she's clawing at my eyes!
Ramparte looks down at his legs for a moment before he looks back up at Tyrone and nods his head hesitantly.
Ramparte: Yeah alright. This match only, after that we're done. Vis Imperium were going to target her eventually, and I suppose having you there would be a pretty good safeguard. You have to promise me this Tyrone, that you'll look out for her. Before, during, and after the match. If something happens to her, I'm going to stampede out of this god forsaken wheelchair and make your life a hell like you've done mine.
Tyrone simply nods his head as he holds his hand out, Ramparte reaching out and the two shaking hands reluctantly. In the background Mr. Jones lies on the mat, completely devastated when suddenly Batti locks in a vicious leg lock. Mr. Jones yells out in tremendous pain, the suffering etched into his face.
Mr. Jones: Nooooooo! Let me go let me go! It's going to break, oh god it's going to brea...
SNAP
Mr. Jones: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Ramparte and Tyrone suddenly turn towards the ring for the first time, both grimacing hard and a look of horror on their faces as Mr. Jones rolls all over the ring holding his leg as Batti slowly gets to one knee, a blood thirsty look on her face. Ramparte tries to wheel quickly to the ring apron. Tyrone keeping his arms crossed as he watches on, as if he's amused.
Ramparte: Batti! We discussed this!
Mr. Jones rolls to the outside as Tyrone stands over him, shaking his head. He kneels down as he pulls his bandanna down, a smirk on his face holding back an immense amount of laughter.
Tyrone: Having fun?
Mr. Jones: I think....I think that.....
Tyrone: Your leg's broken?
Mr. Jones: No, I think I'm in love.
Mr. Jones suddenly passes out as Tyrone can't help himself, letting out a boisterous laugh as he falls back to a seated position as he throws his head back.
Tyrone: Oh my god Jones, you truly are hopeless.
Batti: Rammikun, did I do something wrong?
Ramparte looks back at Tyrone, who simply shrugs his shoulders as he slowly pushes himself back up to his feet. He grabs Jones and helps him up and tJones begins limping towards the door as Tyrone walks slowly behind him when Batti suddenly calls out, finally realizing Tyrone was there.
Batti: Blades-sama!
Tyrone stops and turns towards the ring, an inquisitive look on Batti's face.
Batti: Did you mean what you said last week? That you wanted to make things right for the women in WZCW? That I could be number one contender to the Elite Openweight title?
Tyrone looks at her for a few moments, a smirk forming on his face as he simply nods towards her before turning towards Ramparte.
Tyrone: Seems your girl's got some potential Ramparte. I'll be back later after I drop the crip....I mean the gim....you know I'll just be back after I drop Jones off at the pad. We'll see if she's truly up to the task.
Tyrone and Jones walk out the door as Batti watches on, a determined look on her face as Ramparte looks up at her, a proud look on his face. The scene fades away as it returns to inside The Hollow Ones safe house, Mr. Jones sleeping on the couch with his leg elevated with Tyrone sitting at the table, cigarette in one hand, and a drink in the other. The lone light above the table swings back and forth, revealing the large amounts of cash piled up in the center.
Tyrone: John Constantine, after I take care of your apprentices alongside an over caffeinated woman, I'm gunning right for you. I can't get to Banks until I toss you over the bridge into an icy grave. Our history goes back years, from your start here in WZCW, to the Elite, to fighting over the World Title. But there's just been one thing that's always been a constant when it comes to you and I.
Tyrone takes a long drag of his cigarette before exhaling, the smoke circling around him as he takes a long drink from the bottle of whiskey.
Tyrone: I always end up on top. Even when you put me through hell a couple years ago, I wasn't the one that was broken, you suffered through a self imposed hell I left you to. I'm always going to be superior to you. Even when you held the world title while we were in the Elite, you knew full well what was going to happen and you fell for it like the sucker you are. So let's not waste time playing these fucking games again John.
Tyrone leans forward, his face covered in the shadows as the light illiuminates only his arms and hands, a stack of hundred dollar bills in front of him and the smoke of his cigarette twirling in front of him.
Tyrone: Apocalypse, let's put an end to this fucking story. Put the final chapter in the book that you can't seem to close. While I'm the end game for you, you're a road block in my way to making Banks suffer for what he has done to me. The Hollow Ones are not at full strength, but I don't need to be complete in order to destroy you and reclaim the Mayhem Title for myself. And while you provoked Mikey Stormrage, he does not know the war that we have found ourselves in. Mikey, if you are listening to me, stand aside. This is not your battle to fight. While I appreciate the assist, I do not want you interfering any further. This is something I must do, a cross I must carry on my own. So stay out of this Mikey before I must turn my attention towards you once more. I have nothing to gain from you, other than a rehash of what we have done already.
Tyrone slowly leans forward, his bandanna covered face faintly washed in light this time.
Tyrone: Money talks, and while this is a major part of what I have against Banks, it's also my pride and my principles at stake. Constantine, our duel at high noon comes very soon, and I'm gonna put that fucking bullet right between your eyes. Because no matter how hard you wish to be me, there is only one man they call Tyrone Blades.
With Love,
The Hollow Ones
Spidey Revivey
Porn is okay here long as it ain't dudes.
"Caligula did it! The Overlord gave him everything he had, but it wasn't enough. This marks only the second time The Overlord lost at Wrestlestock! Match for the ages. Wait, what is Overlord doing?"
Batti Otaku sat up from her chair, watching the live stream intently. The Overlord picked himself off of the ground, and gazed at the fans in attendance. They chanted "O-ver-lord" loudly. He nodded, and quietly began taking his gloves off.
"No fuggin' way..."
The commentary team went quiet, and a sad hush fell over the crowd. The Overlord threw his gloves in the center of the ring. He began to disrobe. Several onlookers clapped, and a few whistled for the icon. He folded his ceremonial robe neatly, and rested it on the gloves. He took his time removing the ebony crown from his head. By then Batti was beside herself.
"..." :'(
The Overlord casually stepped out of the ring, went up to what appeared to be his children in the front row, and hugged them dearly. Otaku gasped, surprised that a monster character like Overlord even had kids.
"After an illustrious career, it seems The Overlord has decided to retire tonight. Truly a historic moment here at Wrestlestock. I'm speechless."
The fan exited from the stream, and muttered bitterly.
"Of all people, Caligula beats him. Nobody likes Caligula, the feck..."
She sniveled and wrinkled her nose at the thought of it. Batti gave Captain Claws a quick hug before propping him up on hers and Ramparte's bed.
"Shoulda let Overlord win. I'll miss his spooky dark style."
The eccentric weeaboo murmered, her thoughts going back to her run-in with Tyrone Blades. Both Ram and Ty exchanged words while she sparred with Mr. Jones. She wondered if Jones was okay after she "let off some steam". Here she was dead center of a feud with Vis Imperium, and she was on the side of the Ones who attacked Ramparte. How was she supposed to deal with that?
"Batti, can you come here for a moment, please?"
Ramparte's voice traveled from what sounded like the theater room, a pet project of his. Already flustered with Overlord retiring, she was curious to how else this night would go.
When she came down, she was face to face with Tyrone Blades. He sat diligently in the front row.
"Miss Otaku."
"Blades-sama."
"It's Blades. Just Blades. Let's skip the formalities for a moment and get to the heart of the matter, shall we?. I don't know why exactly we were put together to fight Keaton & LeBelle. You are a plucky girl who should be busy with the likes of The Clark Sisters or whatever. And my legacy speaks for itself. I don't necessarily need you for this fight. But the higher ups like playing games with me, you see, and so here you are and and here I am."
Tyrone paused and examined Batti's expressions closely, seeing if what he said made her tick. Otaku remained unmoved. Ramparte eyed The Harbinger, knowing very well what he was doing.
Batti: "I...I thought we were cool-"
"In fact, you and I aren't even the same species. I'm a predator. A dragon, some say. Creative must think you some kind of special making you share the same space as I do. Or maybe I'm right and this is some bad joke 'cuz your boyfriend was in the wrong place at the wrong time one night. They must be getting a kick out of putting you in my sights. You can't stand there and tell me part of you isn't afraid I'm going to get up from this chair and beat the living hell out of you. Am I wrong?"
He watched Batti Otaku with a studious gaze. Ramparte smiled.
"This banter isn't getting you or my girlfriend closer to defeating Vis Imperium."
Tyrone laughed.
"That's where you're wrong, Recluse. Right now I'm doing the same thing you were doing when you coached her inside the ring. My way is just a little bit more cerebral. Not all fights require 800 bumps or so a night. Isn't that right, Batti?"
Batti was visibly shaking, but she stood her ground.
"I'm not afraid of you."
Tyrone raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
The young rookie crossed her arms, trying to get rid of her jitters. Tyrone Blades stood up, making Batti jump and Ramparte's eyes widen. Ty walked towards Otaku very, very slowly. He got within several feet of her before coming to a halt. Tyrone gritted his teeth.
"You're not afraid I'll hurt Rammikun again? You're not afraid I can end your career right at this moment with a kick of my boot? Don't be stupid, child. You fear me. I am the one person in WZCW you should fear. Don't put up a fucking front. Don't you dare lie to my face. Do you know the things I've done to liars?"
Batti Otaku looked him in the eyes, biting her lip. It quivered.
"What, you going to start acting like a 12 year old who just discovered anime now? Show me who you really are, child!"
Ramparte watched as Tyrone got square in her face. Batti Otaku kept staring up at him.
"I'm not afraid of you. I can and will defeat people like you. But first I will work hard to be a great tag team partner for you."
Tyrone moved away, more satisfied than before. He nodded, and looked at Ramparte.
"Alright then. It's a start. Soon she'll learn how cruel this job really is, but she is getting the idea bit by bit. In our line of work, you have to learn to get along, but not to the point of being a pushover. You think I sucked up to anybody to become a WZCW Hall of Famer? I did what I had to, and then some. You'll get it. I'll help you. Truth is, you can make my work a whole lot easier come Ascension 116. I've seen you fight and beat Mark Keaton and Xander LeBelle in Singles Matches. It's possible."
The wrestling legend turned to his tag team partner.
"I hope you realize I was just testing you, trying to get under your skin. I wanted to see what you could handle. I am content with what I see. What happened with your boyfriend here was not The Hollow Ones fault. We wanted to make an example. Being part of Cerberus, Ramparte does understand this very well and we've discussed that a bit a while ago. Your enemy is Mussel, and if you know your history, you know how he has taken every advantage he could. To get to Flex, you have to outlast what's coming to you with Vis Imperium. Do you understand?"
"I do. And I won't let you down, Blades! I'm a scrapper, you'll see." ^_^
"I'm sure you are. Well this has been a lovely, reassuring evening. I best be off so you can get ready for our tag team match."
Tyrone extended a hand out for Otaku. She took it, never breaking her gaze. The icon nodded curtly to Ramparte, and left the theater room and the mansion.
"You can do this. He will be there for the tag if things get to be too much for you to handle. You can trust him."
She bit her lip, unsure of herself. Will she be useful in this fight? Tag teaming wasn't something she was used to, and she wanted to make a great impression on the Hall of Famer. If she could hang with Tyrone Blades, maybe...just maybe she'll make Ramparte proud and avenge him, win titles, and make a name for herself.
"I...I feel like I can. I honestly feel like I can be in the same ring as the great Ty Burna-eh Blades and not feel so out of place. After this match, it will be hard to skate by with my cuteness, huh Rammikun?"
Batti Otaku giggled. Ramparte laughed.
"Oh I believe you'll the The Cute One for quite some time, kiddo."
"Hmph. Well I can be cute and imposing. Vis Imperium finna found out. Just watch!"
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