Viola Moonlight
I'm Literally Just Here for WZCW
Deadline is Wednesday May 20, 2015 at 11:59 PM (Central Time). Extensions are available upon request.
AS 93: Cerberus (c) vs. Team Russia (World Tag Team Titles)
- Thread starter Viola Moonlight
- Start date
- Status
Deadline is Wednesday May 20, 2015 at 11:59 PM (Central Time). Extensions are available upon request.
[YOUTUBE]AOAtz8xWM0w[/YOUTUBE]
What a week that turned out to be...
I vividly remember sitting on the plane with Oleg and Victor as we headed towards Russia from Cuba. It was a long flight, there was no doubt about it. But there was an excitement in the air. Well, excitement cut with pride in their actions following the events of Meltdown and Ascension. Not only had my boys make themselves the centre of attention once again in the world of WZCW, they had accomplished their main priority in getting the attention of Cerberus; the WZCW Tag Team Champions. Truth be told, I couldn't have been any more proud.
The days of driving around, rubbing against the gigantic thigh of the Russian were done; replaced by first class flights to the Russian capital. There was a few times in my time with Oleg and Victor that I found myself cursing my luck or finding myself disappointed with my lot in life. But that week, of all, weeks was a good week.
No one had really given The Russian a shot in WZCW, no one except Vance Bateman. And since his Elite X Championship reign, it had seemed as though everyone had forgotten about the particular menace and danger that was infinitely true of Victor. But that had, of course, come to an end with the sudden, swift, and total obliteration of what many felt was the greatest Tag Team in the history of WZCW. A bold move, no doubt. But still a good one looking back on it.
But the real reason I remember that day so well is for another reason entirely.
In truth, the flight was pretty unremarkable. We got on the flight as relative nobodies and enjoyed a service that none of the three of us were expecting or deserved. We were fed the very best food from around the world and treated to a service that could very well lead to ideas of grandeur.
But when we landed, those ideas and dreams were turned into a reality.
The passion, the noise, and the excitement of the Russian people to see their very own heroes was something to be hold. As soon as we stepped off the plane, a cacophony of noise blasted my eardrums, putting my senses on edge. Russian flags were draped over the sides of buildings and were hoisted high into the air by those who had braved the elements and had come to meet Victor and Oleg. Looking at both of their faces that day, I knew that neither of them expected the ovation that they got and neither of them were comfortable with it.
Well, boys... I said to them, trying to make myself heard above the rapturous noise. This is it. This is everything you worked for.
* * *
Those few days in Russia were some of the best days that I have ever had in my entire life, hands down. The reception that we received when we stepped off of that plane was only a sampling of the treatment that we were going to get in the Soviet; It really was incredible. Everything I had heard about life in Russia could not have been further from the truth. We were escorted in the nicest cars, dined in the finest locations and drank the finest champagne. In all honesty, in the midst of this sublime treatment, it was hard to see that Victor and Oleg had become uncomfortable.
Loosen up, boys! You're acting like you don't want all of this... In my drunken stupor, I remember saying those words as I threw my arms around both of them. Truth be told, I didn't really realise that it wasn't an act. Victor and Oleg were not acting uncomfortably in the presence of Russian dignitaries who had flocked to see 'their glorious representatives', they actually were.
You do not know, Mr Fortune. You do not know the horror and suffering that the people of this great country do around you. You will sit here and enjoy your champagne without giving a thought to those of us who found ourselves going hungry for days at a time. Oleg said, catching me off guard as we sat in the bar area of the 5 star hotel that had been arranged for us. You do not know of my people's suffering and the continued suffering of the people only miles away from where we sit now. This country is sick, Mr Fortune. It is diseased with the greed of the very rich and the hunger of the poor. We dine in style and enjoy the luxuries afforded to us by this government. But we do not think of the mouths that we are taking this food and drink from.
And I guess I didn't really think of it that way. I thought I knew real suffering but what did I really know? I'd seen some hard times, sure. But real hard times was a way of life for the two gigantic Russians that say with me that day. Real suffering was not knowing when someone might appear in the night and take someone away that you loved. Real suffering was not knowing where the next meal on your table was going to come from. I knew nothing.
I'll never forget the look on Victor's face that night as we found a break from all of the press we had to do; just the three of us sitting on very plush leather couches counting our blessings. I remember looking towards Victor, who had remained silent and stoic throughout everything that had gone around him. Maybe it was the gallons of vodka that had been poured down my throat in the previous 3 days but he almost seemed human; no longer disenfranchised by the human ways of the ways of the West. He had lived this life and had seen everything it had to offer. It was only for a second as we mete each others gaze but I could see something in his eyes... Something vulnerable. But with a grunt, he was gone.
WZCW is also sick, Mr Fortune. It has been for a while Oleg said in his thick Russian accent. The Tag Team Champions have been allowed to rule over everyone without any question or any real opposition. But how do you make a difference with such a system that is so solid? How do you challenge the status quo? Simple, you pick your moments and you destroy them when you can. At Ascension, we will take down the team of Cerberus the same way as what should have been done with this glorious country. I no longer weep for the plight of this country, it cannot be saved. But WZCW can be. And we will...
Richard Blonoff
Make America Rassle Again
I sat at the hotel bar, watching Victor uneasily enjoy his champagne, while Mr. Fortune gorged himself on food and alcohol. America was full of fat, obnoxious, lazy tourists who would never know true struggle. Mr. Fortune was one of those men, and my heart would weep for him when he spoke.
"The two of you have done nothing but sign autographs and pose for pictures since you have been here. The two of you are heroes to the Russian people, try to enjoy yourselves a little. Come on, live it up."
Mr. Fortune was unaware of Russian customs, they were different than what he was used to in America.
Little did Mr. Fortune know that some of the same men who were in power today, were my superiors during my time in the armed forces. It only added to my nervousness.
"Come on Oleg, enjoy your drink like your cousin!"
Mr. Fortune was drunk off the alcohol, as well as the power he held. He commanded the power of two hundred and eighty kilos of pure bred Russian fighting machines. Two machines that had caught the attention of the hottest tag team that WZCW had seen in years. This was finally his shot at redemption.
But what of Victor and I? Surely a victory would feel good, it would lead to more financial opportunities, and would bring glory to our Mother Russia. But would it cure the pain I knew we both felt. We had both fled out native country for the filthy, bloated propaganda machine that was America. I was reminded of my time in KGB, we raided a hotel much like this in an attempt to take down a traitorous spy who intended to defect.
We used the cover of night to make our approach. A helicopter dropped us off on a rooftop adjacent to the hotel, and we used a zipline to get to the hotel roof. There was a team of four of us, I was second in command at the time, having been in the KGB for just over three years. We were to descend by grapple hook to the floor our target was on, breach the window, and take him alive in one quick motion.
A slap on the back interrupted my recollection of that night.
"Oleg, Victor, come, more autographs to sign."
Mr. Fortune lead us away from the bar to the hotel lobby where a crowd of about two dozen were gathered, waiting to meet their heroes.
I understood Victor, he was a former champion, but me, I was just a rookie who had yet to even win a match in WZCW. As the lines for autographs formed, my mind again wondered back to the raid that night so many years ago.
"Oleg, you and Vladimir take the room on the right, Demetri and I will take the room to the left. We sweep and clear, eliminate any threats, but bring out objective in alive."
The voice of my commanding officer still rang in my ears even though I had not seen him in many years.
"Okay we breach in five, four, three, two, one, NOW!"
I still remember crashing through the glass of the hotel window, my heart racing. Our intel was wrong though, our objective was not in the hotel that night. We later learned that he had gotten wind of our raid and fled that morning, leaving his family behind in the hotel.
"скопируй это"
(Copy that)
"New orders from headquarters. Eliminate the family. Show him we mean business."
Against my better judgement, I went through with orders that night. We lined the family up, bound and gagged them, and one by one we killed them, execution style. The toughest was the small child, he could have been no more than five or six. We drew straws that night to determine who had to bear the burden.
I drew shortest. I was no hero. I could not be saved.
We retreated back to the hotel bar, Mr. Fortune doing his best to ease our troubled minds.
"Loosen up, boys! You're acting like you don't want all of this..."
"WZCW is also sick, Mr Fortune. It has been for a while Oleg said in his thick Russian accent. The Tag Team Champions have been allowed to rule over everyone without any question or any real opposition. But how do you make a difference with such a system that is so solid? How do you challenge the status quo? Simple, you pick your moments and you destroy them when you can. At Ascension, we will take down the team of Cerberus the same way as what should have been done with this glorious country. I no longer weep for the plight of this country, it cannot be saved. But WZCW can be. And we will...
...до смерти для матери России. грязные собаки."
(To death, for Mother Russia. Filthy dogs.)
"The two of you have done nothing but sign autographs and pose for pictures since you have been here. The two of you are heroes to the Russian people, try to enjoy yourselves a little. Come on, live it up."
Mr. Fortune was unaware of Russian customs, they were different than what he was used to in America.
Little did Mr. Fortune know that some of the same men who were in power today, were my superiors during my time in the armed forces. It only added to my nervousness.
"Come on Oleg, enjoy your drink like your cousin!"
Mr. Fortune was drunk off the alcohol, as well as the power he held. He commanded the power of two hundred and eighty kilos of pure bred Russian fighting machines. Two machines that had caught the attention of the hottest tag team that WZCW had seen in years. This was finally his shot at redemption.
But what of Victor and I? Surely a victory would feel good, it would lead to more financial opportunities, and would bring glory to our Mother Russia. But would it cure the pain I knew we both felt. We had both fled out native country for the filthy, bloated propaganda machine that was America. I was reminded of my time in KGB, we raided a hotel much like this in an attempt to take down a traitorous spy who intended to defect.
We used the cover of night to make our approach. A helicopter dropped us off on a rooftop adjacent to the hotel, and we used a zipline to get to the hotel roof. There was a team of four of us, I was second in command at the time, having been in the KGB for just over three years. We were to descend by grapple hook to the floor our target was on, breach the window, and take him alive in one quick motion.
A slap on the back interrupted my recollection of that night.
"Oleg, Victor, come, more autographs to sign."
Mr. Fortune lead us away from the bar to the hotel lobby where a crowd of about two dozen were gathered, waiting to meet their heroes.
I understood Victor, he was a former champion, but me, I was just a rookie who had yet to even win a match in WZCW. As the lines for autographs formed, my mind again wondered back to the raid that night so many years ago.
"Oleg, you and Vladimir take the room on the right, Demetri and I will take the room to the left. We sweep and clear, eliminate any threats, but bring out objective in alive."
The voice of my commanding officer still rang in my ears even though I had not seen him in many years.
"Okay we breach in five, four, three, two, one, NOW!"
I still remember crashing through the glass of the hotel window, my heart racing. Our intel was wrong though, our objective was not in the hotel that night. We later learned that he had gotten wind of our raid and fled that morning, leaving his family behind in the hotel.
"скопируй это"
(Copy that)
"New orders from headquarters. Eliminate the family. Show him we mean business."
Against my better judgement, I went through with orders that night. We lined the family up, bound and gagged them, and one by one we killed them, execution style. The toughest was the small child, he could have been no more than five or six. We drew straws that night to determine who had to bear the burden.
I drew shortest. I was no hero. I could not be saved.
We retreated back to the hotel bar, Mr. Fortune doing his best to ease our troubled minds.
"Loosen up, boys! You're acting like you don't want all of this..."
***
"WZCW is also sick, Mr Fortune. It has been for a while Oleg said in his thick Russian accent. The Tag Team Champions have been allowed to rule over everyone without any question or any real opposition. But how do you make a difference with such a system that is so solid? How do you challenge the status quo? Simple, you pick your moments and you destroy them when you can. At Ascension, we will take down the team of Cerberus the same way as what should have been done with this glorious country. I no longer weep for the plight of this country, it cannot be saved. But WZCW can be. And we will...
...до смерти для матери России. грязные собаки."
(To death, for Mother Russia. Filthy dogs.)
Spidey Revivey
Porn is okay here long as it ain't dudes.
[YOUTUBE]DaM9XJar3gI[/YOUTUBE]
"Oh, say can you see by the dawns early light
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?"
"Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,
Oer the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?"
"And the rockets red glare..."
"...the bombs bursting in air..."
"...gave proof through the night that our flag was still there."
"Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
Oer the land of the free and the home of the brave?"
"Oh, say can you see by the dawns early light
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?"
Gold Rush '15 said:
"Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,
Oer the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?"
Meltdown 117 said:
"And the rockets red glare..."
Meltdown 117 said:
"...the bombs bursting in air..."
Ascension 92 said:
"...gave proof through the night that our flag was still there."
Ascension 92 said:
"Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
Oer the land of the free and the home of the brave?"
__________________________________________________
Ramparte: "It's as if all of our demons have come screaming out at us from the dark."
Flex Mussél turned left and drove along the Interstate in the Rent-A-Car. Ramparte mused by his carseat window. He gazed hypnotically at the Russian landscape before him.
Ramparte: "Every one of our misgivings have manifested themselves. For every team killed and dirty tactic carried out, they were watching. Learning. And now they have walked into WZCW and put a legend- our talent scout- down. Everest was a man of admiration."
Flex: "He was. One of the very few we ever admired. Our respect is probably the hardest thing to gain here. And we sure as hell haven't made it easy to be liked."
Mussél talked while keeping his eyes on the hazardous roads. It was snowing in May, and the horizon was unclear.
Flex: "But fighting men like Alhazred and S.H.I.T. did teach us something. It's not about having the numbers like The Elite. It's not about playing it heroic like Young Justice and Los Magnificoes Dragones. In the end, it wasn't even about kicking them all when they were down, was it?"
Ramparte: "No. You're starting to get me, Flex. I appreciate that."
The Monsieur of Muscle waved it off and halted at a Stop sign.
Flex: "I think I'm starting to because I'm frightened. We're both frightened."
They silently sat while traffic passed them by. As the car moved forward, The Catalyst spoke up.
Ramparte: "Yeah, we are terrified. But it's not them. This is a new fear. Something we cannot escape from."
Flex: "No. We are scared of what we had become. Why there is this Team Russia that is willing to harm a retired friend. To jump us like we have jumped so many to get to where we are. You know what Hard Metal Penetration taught us? That we can be boyscouts or delinquents, it does not matter. What mattered was we had to adapt. Change our style. And that is why we are here, in Russia about to defend the very titles we had taken from more deserving men than Rasputin and Makarov."
Ramparte: "Aye. We changed with the times. Just like nations do. I keep thinking of that poem the American lawyer Francis Scott Key wrote on the battlements of Fort McHenry..."
Flex: "You...can't possibly by talking about The Star Spangled Banner... You really do have a knack for going on weird tangents, Ram."
Ramparte: "These men are rubbing their jingoism in our faces, Flex! They've taken out a man that helped us when we were curtain jerking. They've humiliated us and they have spat in our fans' faces for just being born in a different country. Maybe we should show a little bit of patriotism in their-"
Flex: "I'm a Frenchman."
Ramparte: So? There were Frenchmen fighting for the American Revolution, too. There are stanzas to that poem that almost everybody has forgotten! But I know them. No verse or narrative is lost on me."
Flex: "You gonna sing us a song, Rambo?"
The Catalyst scoffed and fidgeted in his seat. He shook his head no. Flex turned the steering wheel in one hand and reached over to push down the button to the glove compartment. It snapped open and a black box fell into Ramparte's lap.
Flex: "Tell you what. This is a present a picked up for you. Meant to commemorate the one year of us being a team. You can keep the contents of that box, but you have to sing the lyrics to the National Anthem for me first.
For one moment, let's forget about Team Russia and Freddie Fortune or this frozen shithole we are in. Don't think about Eve Taylor and whatever she is going through right now. Don't even have me in mind. Just let the words flow. You like doing that sort of thing anyways."
Ramparte glanced down at the small parcel and felt a stronger kinship for his tag team partner. He closed his eyes and started forming the lyrics on his lips. Slowly he sang them aloud in a baritone voice.
Unbeknownst to the bookworm, Flex visualized all that Team Russia has done to them and what Cerberus will do while he sang. The Russian road paved a backdrop for The Catalyst's mellow tone.
"On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foes haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, oer the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the mornings first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines in the stream:
Tis the star-spangled banner! Oh long may it wave
Oer the land of the free and the home of the brave!
And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battles confusion,
A home and a country should leave us no more!
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave:
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
Oer the land of the free and the home of the brave!
Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved home and the wars desolation!
Blest with victory and peace, may the heavn rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: In God is our trust.
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
Oer the land of the free and the home of the brave!"
Where the foes haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, oer the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the mornings first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines in the stream:
Tis the star-spangled banner! Oh long may it wave
Oer the land of the free and the home of the brave!
And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battles confusion,
A home and a country should leave us no more!
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave:
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
Oer the land of the free and the home of the brave!
Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved home and the wars desolation!
Blest with victory and peace, may the heavn rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: In God is our trust.
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
Oer the land of the free and the home of the brave!"
No words were shared between the tag team champions as Ramparte finished. Opening his eyes, The Catalyst removed the lid to the black box. Inside was an adjustable folding cane with a silver wolf's head resting on a velvet cushion. He smiled at the gift, and then to his partner. His mind crawled for a name to the weapon, but it didn't take long.
Ramparte: "Her name will be Alice, and I will carry her with me as we pass through Wonderland."
Eyes locked on the road before them, the Frenchman grinned.
FlexAmerican Dynamite
WZCW WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION
As the WZCW World tag team champions unloaded the luggage from their rental vehicle and entered the hotel they were assigned to stay at Flex Mussel couldnt help but contemplate on moments of the past. Moments such as their first title defense against Hard Metal Penetration.
It was a painful memory for the monsieur. Being helpless to watch his best friend suffer and him losing all that they worked so hard to achieve only after just winning it. Similar thoughts and fears clouded the mind of the body builder as he began to ponder their upcoming title defense against Team Russia. Were he and Ramparte now cocky just like they were at KC? Would their dominance lead to false sense of security? Would their titles once again be swept away from under them? All questions the first head of Cerberus couldnt help but wonder as a Russian hotel correspondent lead the champions down a dark and dim hallway to their hotel room. Usually the best was reserved for the champions but these sleeping quarters seemed a bit more low-class than Ramparte and Flex had come to expect. The two opened the door to find a single bed in a cramped room with a Russian flag on the wall and a beanbag chair in the corner.
Ramparte: "This is completely unacceptable."
Flex: "Dont suppose you know where Eve is sleeping do you?"
Ramparte: "This is so not the time for that."
Flex: "No I mean do you legitimately know what hotel Eve is staying at? It seems were the only two of the WZCW roster staying at this sleazy looking establishment."
Ramparte: "I can call talent relationships and get us something worthy of our presence."
Flex: "No point, the time zone difference means we wont get a call back for ours and Ive got a sneaking suspicion a certain Russian manager is behind this."
Ramparte: "You think Freddie Fortune has that kind of pull?"
Flex: "Maybe, maybe not. But it is highly convenient that we just so happen to have events in Russia this week corresponding with an impromptu title match against his Soviet meatheads."
Ramparte: "No matter, his involvement will be negated by Eve watching our backs."
Flex: "I have a feeling she wont be joining us for this."
Ramparte: "You still worried about her not returning your calls?"
Flex: "Im honestly just not sure about her current state of mind, its not like shes called to check in on us after the Russians destroyed us."
Ramparte: "A shame she wasnt there to even the odds."
Flex: "It was karma coming back to bite us. But we cant let what happened then affect us now. Eve wont be there to back us up. I will not let a repeat of Kingdom Come happen again. We need to defeat Team Russia and become the longest reigning champions in history."
Ramparte: "Well we cant do that on two hours of sleep, so I suppose we should attempt to get some rest."
Flex: "Usually Id be all for it but were in a peculiar set of sleeping arrangements."
Ramparte: "I take it you werent planning to sleep on the floor?"
Flex: "Theres about as much chance of that happening as Putin letting go of Ukraine."
Ramparte: "Someones been watching The Daily Show."
Flex: "Last Week Tonight with John Oliver actually, jerk.
After a few more minutes of the champions arguing about who will take the bed they compromise and eventually decide to share it. And after struggling and hogging portions of the cover they eventually begin to nod off. Flex in particular is in a deep sleep in his own little fantasy world. One where he and Ramparte are prisoners in the brutal Russian compound known as The Gulag.
The sounds of pain fell deaf on the other prison guards. They were busy watching two WZCW tag team champions bleed on the hard stone floor. On and on they cheered until signs of life came from the two. Boos emanated and spit flew into the air, hitting Mussel and Ramparte. Fighting a losing battle, The Catalyst shouted to his partner.
Ramparte: "This is a lost cause! We are overpowered. These men know hardship and loss. There's nothing we can do to break their will!"
The Catalyst stood downtrodden as the prisoners and officers banded together to shower their hate upon him. His lip trembled at the sight of all the Russians booing him. Flex smacked a brute of a man down with a left fist and answered his longtime friend.
Flex: "Are you concerned with the audience? DON'T BE!!! They never liked us and they never will. No...we focus on the Russians. We antagonize them. Pick their minds apart and then steamroll them like we've done the rest. It's our modus operandi. And we do it for Everest. Got it?"
Ramparte shook his head. The sound gave off a knocking noise.
Flex jerked himself awake to the steady thrumming of the hotel room door. The Monsieur of Muscle reluctantly got out of bed and answered it.
His heart leapt out of his chest. There stood the last person he thought he'd ever see again.
Svetlana: "Well hello there, gorgeous. I heard you were having some trouble with my countrymen. May I come in?"
Kingdom Come VI said:
It was a painful memory for the monsieur. Being helpless to watch his best friend suffer and him losing all that they worked so hard to achieve only after just winning it. Similar thoughts and fears clouded the mind of the body builder as he began to ponder their upcoming title defense against Team Russia. Were he and Ramparte now cocky just like they were at KC? Would their dominance lead to false sense of security? Would their titles once again be swept away from under them? All questions the first head of Cerberus couldnt help but wonder as a Russian hotel correspondent lead the champions down a dark and dim hallway to their hotel room. Usually the best was reserved for the champions but these sleeping quarters seemed a bit more low-class than Ramparte and Flex had come to expect. The two opened the door to find a single bed in a cramped room with a Russian flag on the wall and a beanbag chair in the corner.
Ramparte: "This is completely unacceptable."
Flex: "Dont suppose you know where Eve is sleeping do you?"
Ramparte: "This is so not the time for that."
Flex: "No I mean do you legitimately know what hotel Eve is staying at? It seems were the only two of the WZCW roster staying at this sleazy looking establishment."
Ramparte: "I can call talent relationships and get us something worthy of our presence."
Flex: "No point, the time zone difference means we wont get a call back for ours and Ive got a sneaking suspicion a certain Russian manager is behind this."
Ramparte: "You think Freddie Fortune has that kind of pull?"
Flex: "Maybe, maybe not. But it is highly convenient that we just so happen to have events in Russia this week corresponding with an impromptu title match against his Soviet meatheads."
Ramparte: "No matter, his involvement will be negated by Eve watching our backs."
Flex: "I have a feeling she wont be joining us for this."
Ramparte: "You still worried about her not returning your calls?"
Flex: "Im honestly just not sure about her current state of mind, its not like shes called to check in on us after the Russians destroyed us."
Ramparte: "A shame she wasnt there to even the odds."
Flex: "It was karma coming back to bite us. But we cant let what happened then affect us now. Eve wont be there to back us up. I will not let a repeat of Kingdom Come happen again. We need to defeat Team Russia and become the longest reigning champions in history."
Ramparte: "Well we cant do that on two hours of sleep, so I suppose we should attempt to get some rest."
Flex: "Usually Id be all for it but were in a peculiar set of sleeping arrangements."
Ramparte: "I take it you werent planning to sleep on the floor?"
Flex: "Theres about as much chance of that happening as Putin letting go of Ukraine."
Ramparte: "Someones been watching The Daily Show."
Flex: "Last Week Tonight with John Oliver actually, jerk.
After a few more minutes of the champions arguing about who will take the bed they compromise and eventually decide to share it. And after struggling and hogging portions of the cover they eventually begin to nod off. Flex in particular is in a deep sleep in his own little fantasy world. One where he and Ramparte are prisoners in the brutal Russian compound known as The Gulag.
"Stoy!"
"Stop!"
"Ty delayesh' mne bol'no !"
"You're hurting me!"
"YA ne sdelal nichego plokhogo !"
"I have done nothing wrong!"
"Stop!"
"Ty delayesh' mne bol'no !"
"You're hurting me!"
"YA ne sdelal nichego plokhogo !"
"I have done nothing wrong!"
The sounds of pain fell deaf on the other prison guards. They were busy watching two WZCW tag team champions bleed on the hard stone floor. On and on they cheered until signs of life came from the two. Boos emanated and spit flew into the air, hitting Mussel and Ramparte. Fighting a losing battle, The Catalyst shouted to his partner.
Ramparte: "This is a lost cause! We are overpowered. These men know hardship and loss. There's nothing we can do to break their will!"
The Catalyst stood downtrodden as the prisoners and officers banded together to shower their hate upon him. His lip trembled at the sight of all the Russians booing him. Flex smacked a brute of a man down with a left fist and answered his longtime friend.
Flex: "Are you concerned with the audience? DON'T BE!!! They never liked us and they never will. No...we focus on the Russians. We antagonize them. Pick their minds apart and then steamroll them like we've done the rest. It's our modus operandi. And we do it for Everest. Got it?"
Ramparte shook his head. The sound gave off a knocking noise.
Flex jerked himself awake to the steady thrumming of the hotel room door. The Monsieur of Muscle reluctantly got out of bed and answered it.
His heart leapt out of his chest. There stood the last person he thought he'd ever see again.
Svetlana: "Well hello there, gorgeous. I heard you were having some trouble with my countrymen. May I come in?"
- Status
