Richard Blonoff
Make America Rassle Again
Deadline is Tuesday, September 15th, 11:59PM CST. Extensions available upon request.
MD 122: Live Mas vs. Fallout & John Doe (Non Title)
- Thread starter Richard Blonoff
- Start date
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John Doe enters the backstage area, and immediately stops. He stares at the ground, and lets out an extended sigh, approaching a groan. As he closes his eyes, beads of sweat run over the brow of his mask and his hands ball into fists.
Visions of violence swirl through his mind. 24 other combatants were thrown over the top, before Mikey Stormrage got lucky and dumped Doe to the floor. Doe watched on as Mikey was eliminated by his own partner. He remembers the stranger that fought by his side from early in the match.
Who was that masked man? He looked at me like he knew me. I couldn't see his face, but I felt his gaze.
As John Doe's mind continues to race, Dr. Zeus eliminates Matt Tastic and his music booms throughout the arena. It draws his mind back to the present, and he lets out a primal scream. He heads straight for an exit, and heads into the darkness.
John Doe finds solace in the belly of a cargo ship. He throws down a bag of rice, and rests his head against the makeshift pillow. As he shuts his eyes, and attempts to drift into a deep sleep, his attention is brought to a noise he can't identify. Rather than sleep, he focuses his gaze on the dim light that sits above the closed door.
His fights against Eve Taylor and Logan McAllister from the Lethal Lottery keep the gears moving. This isn't the first time he's stood toe-to-toe with Eve, but the amount of fight in her was exponentially greater this time.
Again, he remembers being knocked off the apron.
He gets to his feet and paces the room.
He must know something...
John Doe sits in an empty cargo container of a train bound for the Rockies, crossing the plains of the American midwest. That unfamiliar noise has seemed to follow him. As he glares out at the endless fields, his thoughts turn back to Lethal Lottery. He sees the bodies of Logan McAllister and Vee A.D.Z. hitting the floor. Their sweat leaves a Rorschach inkblot on the mat below.
Garth Black falls flat on his back. The defeat shows on his face from losing two matches in the same night.
The Beard returned with fanfare, and he met the same fate. The look of shock on his face as he looks up from the floor and meets the dark eyeholes of Doe's mask bring a smile to John's face as he continues to hide behind the newspaper.
Noah Ryder may have tasted victory at John's hands just a week prior, but it was John Doe who took Kingdom Come from his grasp.
The noise seems louder.
There was something...familiar...about him.
His thoughts cut to the highlight of the entire match. On one side of the ring...Cerberus. The other...Live Mas and James Howard. Standing in the middle...himself. Along with Dr. Zeus and Fallout. There was a palpable electricity coursing through the ring. For a moment, the nine of them stood in deafening silence. There was something special happening.
For once, Doe felt like he was where he belonged.
What made me trust him? That...doctor. He strapped me to that wretched stretcher. He thought he could...cure...me. It was...Fallout. We said nothing to each other. Yet he knew me. Without him, there would have been no allegiance.
John Doe's fingers claw at his mask as he grits his teeth and slams his fist against the steel wall. The loud bang echoes, drowning out the now-haunting noise.
Blood trickles from his knuckles, the droplets dancing in the air as they escape the train car.
There's a unseasonably cold chill filling the car as they climb northward through the mountains. The blood has now stopped flowing from the gashes on his hand, and steam from his breath forms in front of his face.
Seemingly every time his eyes close, that noise finds him. The only solace he finds is in the looks of agony as his fallen foes hit the ground.
I've heard this noise before.
The train comes to a stop, and John Doe hops off the train, no cargo in tow. He zips up the last few inches of his coveralls, shoves his hands into his pockets, and disappears behind the rolling fog.
The camera watches as a shadow steps down from the same car Doe had stowed away in.
Even walking an abandoned road, the noise follows him. He punctuates his trip with quick stops to catch his breath, and track the noise. There's nothing blocking his view, yet nothing to be seen.
He looks at a portion of a map that is buried in his pocket, and glances ahead into the distance. Beyond the fog, a large brick and mortar structure can barely be seen. Doe double checks the map, and mumbles under his breath before continuing his journey.
Finally. Some peace.
With a crash, the chain breaks and the door snaps open, slamming into the wall. A rancid stench pours out of the doorway, which Doe hardly acknowledges. He enters into the darkness, the noise following.
Sleep finally welcomes John Doe with open arms. Hours pass without a thought.
Then...the droning noise returns.
Doe's eyes jolt open. His eyes immediately go for the door, and he's on his feet without realizing it.
I know you're there. You've been there since London.
The noise reveals itself to be more of a hiss, with a definitive stop and start. John Doe stays standing in the center of the room, almost staring a hole in the floor. His fists remain balled at his sides.
What do you want from me? What does...he...want from me?
The hissing is the only thing breaking the silence, aside from the increasing thump of John Doe's heart in his chest.
I don't have time for games. I have a story of my own to tell.
The hissing circles the room, but John Doe stands still. His body expands with every breath as he appears to increase his physical size out of pure frustration.
You too find peace in the depths of darkness, don't you? Is that why you've followed me here?
The hissing gets louder for a second, as if a muffled sigh was trying to escape.
If you wanted, you'd have attacked me on the ship. Or the train. Or the road here.
You sense the same familiarity I do. I can tell.
John Doe pauses, awaiting a reply that isn't coming.
Tell me what you want.
Still no reply.
If you know anything about me, where I've been...Give me answers.
The hissing continues to circle the room, but at a much more deliberate and slower pace.
Were you there for the accident? Did you see that child sprawled out on the floor?
John Doe starts to slowly turn towards the hissing, following it around the room as if his vision can cut through the darkness.
Do you know who the boy in the wheelchair was? Do you know who the masked wrestler in white was?
John Doe grits his teeth in anger. The spit foams at the corners of his mouth, and his fists are shaking with rage.
If you can't help me...leave.
The hissing comes to a stop. John Doe frantically searches the room from his stance in the center of the floor.
I've had enough of your silence.
The sweat beads grow on the top of John Doe's head, and disappear behind the mask, reappearing over his eyes, and then disappearing again. Minutes that feel like hours pass with no response.
This...familiarity...between us.
I imagine you sense it as well. We fought well, side by side. You and I...Our pain. If we join forces, we can spread it amongst the roster like a virus.
From the depths of the darkness a low click can be heard. With a flicker, a single dim lightbulb comes to life just a few feet from John Doe's position.
Can I trust you?
From behind the light, a leather-clad hand extends towards John Doe.
Do you understand I have my own path to follow, and I will not taper from it for anyone? Not you...Not the...doctor.
The hand hangs open in the air. The hissing continues to be the only sound in the room. Doe eyes the outstretched hand.
I don't trust easily...Fallout.
Fallout steps in front of the light. His hand still extended. The gasmask blocks his face, but Doe attempts to gauge a response.
We'll carry out our mutual interests. We'll share our pain with those more...fortunate.
A muffled response barely escapes from behind the mask. Fallout extends his hand again.
Live Mas. Cerberus. They've enjoyed their rise, but I'm afraid they've flown too close to the sun, and it's time the wax melts. Isaiah says "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined." Isn't it now our time to have the light shined upon us?
The camera shifts from the side of the two men, to behind John Doe, as he slowly extends his hand. He lets his hand drop, and shifts his gaze to the light over Fallout's head. He raises his hand again, but not to shake Fallout's hand. His fingers move slowly, untying the lace on his mask, allowing it to slip off his face. He raises his head, face-to-face with the masked man, as the camera shifts to directly behind Fallout, blocking John Doe's face.
Only Fallout can see the scars, and the pain of the path John Doe has taken to Vancouver. With a simple nod, their alliance is formed.
As the light flickers out, and the room is enveloped in blackness...
You and I...Fallout...We have been forsaken. Let our pain be felt by all who cross us. Let them fear...
...the Children Of The Damned.
Visions of violence swirl through his mind. 24 other combatants were thrown over the top, before Mikey Stormrage got lucky and dumped Doe to the floor. Doe watched on as Mikey was eliminated by his own partner. He remembers the stranger that fought by his side from early in the match.
Who was that masked man? He looked at me like he knew me. I couldn't see his face, but I felt his gaze.
As John Doe's mind continues to race, Dr. Zeus eliminates Matt Tastic and his music booms throughout the arena. It draws his mind back to the present, and he lets out a primal scream. He heads straight for an exit, and heads into the darkness.
*************************
John Doe finds solace in the belly of a cargo ship. He throws down a bag of rice, and rests his head against the makeshift pillow. As he shuts his eyes, and attempts to drift into a deep sleep, his attention is brought to a noise he can't identify. Rather than sleep, he focuses his gaze on the dim light that sits above the closed door.
His fights against Eve Taylor and Logan McAllister from the Lethal Lottery keep the gears moving. This isn't the first time he's stood toe-to-toe with Eve, but the amount of fight in her was exponentially greater this time.
Again, he remembers being knocked off the apron.
He gets to his feet and paces the room.
He must know something...
*************************
John Doe sits in an empty cargo container of a train bound for the Rockies, crossing the plains of the American midwest. That unfamiliar noise has seemed to follow him. As he glares out at the endless fields, his thoughts turn back to Lethal Lottery. He sees the bodies of Logan McAllister and Vee A.D.Z. hitting the floor. Their sweat leaves a Rorschach inkblot on the mat below.
Garth Black falls flat on his back. The defeat shows on his face from losing two matches in the same night.
The Beard returned with fanfare, and he met the same fate. The look of shock on his face as he looks up from the floor and meets the dark eyeholes of Doe's mask bring a smile to John's face as he continues to hide behind the newspaper.
Noah Ryder may have tasted victory at John's hands just a week prior, but it was John Doe who took Kingdom Come from his grasp.
The noise seems louder.
There was something...familiar...about him.
His thoughts cut to the highlight of the entire match. On one side of the ring...Cerberus. The other...Live Mas and James Howard. Standing in the middle...himself. Along with Dr. Zeus and Fallout. There was a palpable electricity coursing through the ring. For a moment, the nine of them stood in deafening silence. There was something special happening.
For once, Doe felt like he was where he belonged.
What made me trust him? That...doctor. He strapped me to that wretched stretcher. He thought he could...cure...me. It was...Fallout. We said nothing to each other. Yet he knew me. Without him, there would have been no allegiance.
John Doe's fingers claw at his mask as he grits his teeth and slams his fist against the steel wall. The loud bang echoes, drowning out the now-haunting noise.
Blood trickles from his knuckles, the droplets dancing in the air as they escape the train car.
*************************
There's a unseasonably cold chill filling the car as they climb northward through the mountains. The blood has now stopped flowing from the gashes on his hand, and steam from his breath forms in front of his face.
Seemingly every time his eyes close, that noise finds him. The only solace he finds is in the looks of agony as his fallen foes hit the ground.
I've heard this noise before.
*************************
The train comes to a stop, and John Doe hops off the train, no cargo in tow. He zips up the last few inches of his coveralls, shoves his hands into his pockets, and disappears behind the rolling fog.
The camera watches as a shadow steps down from the same car Doe had stowed away in.
*************************
Even walking an abandoned road, the noise follows him. He punctuates his trip with quick stops to catch his breath, and track the noise. There's nothing blocking his view, yet nothing to be seen.
He looks at a portion of a map that is buried in his pocket, and glances ahead into the distance. Beyond the fog, a large brick and mortar structure can barely be seen. Doe double checks the map, and mumbles under his breath before continuing his journey.
Finally. Some peace.
*************************
With a crash, the chain breaks and the door snaps open, slamming into the wall. A rancid stench pours out of the doorway, which Doe hardly acknowledges. He enters into the darkness, the noise following.
*************************
Sleep finally welcomes John Doe with open arms. Hours pass without a thought.
Then...the droning noise returns.
Doe's eyes jolt open. His eyes immediately go for the door, and he's on his feet without realizing it.
I know you're there. You've been there since London.
The noise reveals itself to be more of a hiss, with a definitive stop and start. John Doe stays standing in the center of the room, almost staring a hole in the floor. His fists remain balled at his sides.
What do you want from me? What does...he...want from me?
The hissing is the only thing breaking the silence, aside from the increasing thump of John Doe's heart in his chest.
I don't have time for games. I have a story of my own to tell.
The hissing circles the room, but John Doe stands still. His body expands with every breath as he appears to increase his physical size out of pure frustration.
You too find peace in the depths of darkness, don't you? Is that why you've followed me here?
The hissing gets louder for a second, as if a muffled sigh was trying to escape.
If you wanted, you'd have attacked me on the ship. Or the train. Or the road here.
You sense the same familiarity I do. I can tell.
John Doe pauses, awaiting a reply that isn't coming.
Tell me what you want.
Still no reply.
If you know anything about me, where I've been...Give me answers.
The hissing continues to circle the room, but at a much more deliberate and slower pace.
Were you there for the accident? Did you see that child sprawled out on the floor?
John Doe starts to slowly turn towards the hissing, following it around the room as if his vision can cut through the darkness.
Do you know who the boy in the wheelchair was? Do you know who the masked wrestler in white was?
John Doe grits his teeth in anger. The spit foams at the corners of his mouth, and his fists are shaking with rage.
If you can't help me...leave.
The hissing comes to a stop. John Doe frantically searches the room from his stance in the center of the floor.
I've had enough of your silence.
The sweat beads grow on the top of John Doe's head, and disappear behind the mask, reappearing over his eyes, and then disappearing again. Minutes that feel like hours pass with no response.
This...familiarity...between us.
I imagine you sense it as well. We fought well, side by side. You and I...Our pain. If we join forces, we can spread it amongst the roster like a virus.
From the depths of the darkness a low click can be heard. With a flicker, a single dim lightbulb comes to life just a few feet from John Doe's position.
Can I trust you?
From behind the light, a leather-clad hand extends towards John Doe.
Do you understand I have my own path to follow, and I will not taper from it for anyone? Not you...Not the...doctor.
The hand hangs open in the air. The hissing continues to be the only sound in the room. Doe eyes the outstretched hand.
I don't trust easily...Fallout.
Fallout steps in front of the light. His hand still extended. The gasmask blocks his face, but Doe attempts to gauge a response.
We'll carry out our mutual interests. We'll share our pain with those more...fortunate.
A muffled response barely escapes from behind the mask. Fallout extends his hand again.
Live Mas. Cerberus. They've enjoyed their rise, but I'm afraid they've flown too close to the sun, and it's time the wax melts. Isaiah says "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined." Isn't it now our time to have the light shined upon us?
The camera shifts from the side of the two men, to behind John Doe, as he slowly extends his hand. He lets his hand drop, and shifts his gaze to the light over Fallout's head. He raises his hand again, but not to shake Fallout's hand. His fingers move slowly, untying the lace on his mask, allowing it to slip off his face. He raises his head, face-to-face with the masked man, as the camera shifts to directly behind Fallout, blocking John Doe's face.
Only Fallout can see the scars, and the pain of the path John Doe has taken to Vancouver. With a simple nod, their alliance is formed.
As the light flickers out, and the room is enveloped in blackness...
You and I...Fallout...We have been forsaken. Let our pain be felt by all who cross us. Let them fear...
...the Children Of The Damned.
"We live our lives fighting day in and day out. Sometimes you need to relax, or you'll lose your nerve."
========================Backstage=========================
It was an amazing night. Many amazing moments. Great triumphs. The poster said it was "The Night Of Golden Opportunities". It didn't disappoint. Seeing Theron win the big one brought back memories of last year. When Matt Tastic did a similar thing. Me. Last year I won the World Heavyweight Championship by winning Lethal Lottery. This year I nearly won the 30 man match again. Sadly, history was not repeated. The circumstances were even very similar. But I guess destiny has other plans for me. And my partner. Because even though I didn't win the Lottery, I did- We did win the World Tag Team Championship. I drew the pentagram. I've won all 5 Championships in the history of WZCW. And Mikey won his 3rd Tag Team title. His own record. We didn't win the Lottery. But we sure didn't walk out losers.
========================Backstage=========================
Walking the hallways of an emptying arena, it is Lottery night. The crowd leaves in a fever pitch, excited by what they saw. Matt walks out of the showers, towel over his shoulder and an ice pack between his legs. Titus left a number on him. He packs his things ready to leave when he grabs his phone and makes a call. Holding on to his phone and his bag he proceeds to make his exit.
Matt: So you saw it? What'cha think? ............................... What? No way. I wasn't out yet so I didn't see that. Huh? ...................... I owe Titus a punt in the nuts too. ............... Mikey? He left earlier. He said he was tired. ................. Mad at him? For what? ........................... No. That's kinda selfish. Wait. I think I'm gonna have to call you back.
Matt walks to the parking lot to find the place full of people. The moment he's spotted, he's flocked by fans. Reporters start sticking their mics in his face and he just ignores. Cassette players (who the fuck uses those in this age) right on his throat. Matt shoves his way by to his vehicle as he's pelted with gifts. Bouquets hit him. People chuck gift boxes at him. Someone's panties end up draped on him. By the time he reaches his ride, there's a twelve year old with blue hair, sharp teeth and an odd looking winged cat dangling from his leg.
Matt: Get off! I can go to jail for this nonsense.
He drapes his bag on the back of his ride. A horse. Straight out of his ranch home in Puerto Rico. It flew first class with him. And it was cheaper than a rental. And saves a ton of gas.
Matt: Vamonos, Tornado!
Matt rides off into the night on his black horse as the fans try to chase. But the horse and it's 1 horsepower motor manage to pull away too fast. Matt arrives at his hotel. He gets off in the valet parking and hand the handle to the horse to the valet.
Matt: Make sure he gets his oats when you park him in my room. I'm gonna go get a bite to eat.
Matt marches off leaving Tornado and his bag behind as he heads to the fancy restaurant in the fancy hotel. He takes a fancy chair and reads a fancy menu when the fancy waiter comes to take his order.
Fancy Waiter:Good evening fine sir, if I can make a suggestion our delicious penne pasta with freshly fished shrimp in exquisite alfredo sauce is simply to die for.
Matt: ......Yeah, I'll have the pastrami sandwich.
Fancy Waiter: Sir, surely you jest. The pastrami sandwich is but a cheap dish. Are you not interested in our fine tasting penne pasta?
Matt: Ummmm..... Fine sir, penne is the spanish word for penis. And my uncle is named "Alfred". I don't feel to comfortable with you offering me this dish.
Fancy Waiter:.............Pastrami sandwich it is. Would you like a bottle of our finest wine?
Matt: Nah, thanks. I've had enough whining from my mother to last me the week. Soda.
The waiter takes the order and walks away as Matt toys with the silverware on his table.
Fancy Waiter: Bloody athletes. Rich and clueless.
Some things don't change. Matt Tastic may be one of the most decorated professional wrestlers in history. But he's still the same goofy hick from a tiny island he's always been. Only time will tell what the future holds as the road to Kingdom Come begins.
=======================A Few Days Later====================
Several days have passed as the wrestlers of WZCW have some off time following the PPV. Matt relaxes in his humble abode. Surrounded by animals screaming their lungs out. Chickens shitting all over the place. And mangoes crashing onto the ceilings of the various stables. Lounging on a hammock among the chaos lays the Grand Slam Champion as his phone rings and he answers.
Matt:Hello? Oh. What is it, Bateman? ..............................John Doe and Fallout? OK. .............................I'm getting a plaque? ............For being a Grand Slam Champion? Cool! .............Pesos? You moron. Our currency is the same as yours. .............Mikey gets a plaque too? Awesome. ...............Eugh! I don't wanna know what Becky does when she takes a dump! Piss off, you crazy old bastard!
Matt tosses the phone away as the sounds of a duck quacking are heard on impact. Matt's granpa comes in wondering what's going on.
Granpa: I heard something about a crazy old man taking a piss. Were you calling me?
Matt: Um.... no? But what's up?
Granpa: Oh, you know. The same. Saturated political landscape. A drought because we were too stupid to create a drainage system. An economic crisis that no one bothers to settle on how to fix. Other than begging the U.S. for help. Same old, same old. What's going on in your end, champ?
Matt: I'm fighting a guy with no recollection of his past and............. Another guy with no recollection of his past. Except he worked here before.
Granpa: How do these people keep getting licenses to hold events with all these clearly mentally ill people under employ?
Matt: I don't know. What I really don't get is why a pair of amnesiacs would even want with wrestling in the first place. More to the point, how the hell do they remember how to work? How are they supposed to beat us when they don't know what a hot tag is?
Granpa:I don't know what it is either. Is that some form of STD?
Matt: No, it's..... wrestling jargon..... I guess. You know what taking a powder is right?
Granpa: Son, please don't tell me Mikey dragged you into doing cocaine.
Matt: WHAT?! No! I meant the kayfabe term for getting out of- Oh, never mind.
Matt tries to get up, but ends up tripping. He falls on the floor and goes face first into chicken poo. He wipes it off and walks off as if nothing happened. Matt stretches out before he just drops on a patch of grass. He rolls over as if to sleep and Granpa stands over him.
Granpa: What the hell are you doing? You're not gonna get ready for your match? They can't remember anything but they are very dangerous. Didn't one of them take a title from you?
Matt: Listen, I just got through defeating the most successful tag team in history and ended up the runner up of a very grueling match. That being after I lost my World title to man proclaiming the apocalypse. Which was after a 9 month war with Constantine, Showtime and fucking Ty Burna. If I wanna take it easy, I'll take it fucking easy.
Matt tucks his head and the phone rings again.
Matt: Argh! Dammit! Now what?! Cleetus! Cleetus! Where the hell are you? Get my damn phone!
A goat appears with the phone in his mouth. It's Cleetus. Matt answers it and it's Mikey.
Matt: Hello? Mikey? Oh! Whazzup?! ...............Doe and Fallout, year I heard. ..................Plan? Man, I told granpa to just chill about the match? Why? ........................ Just take it easy for now, bro. We've got through a lot in over a year with no down time. Lets just step back and relax. We live our lives fighting day in and day out. Sometimes you need to relax, or you'll lose your nerve.
Dan Severn's Moustache
Patent Pending
We Are Legion
And ran he did for over a year.
Little did the super-soldier know that his self-inflicted goals upon the dissolution of his faction were fruitless and he was sprinting not only into the the wrong direction, but into the abyss itself, plaguing the nomadic warrior for what seemed an eternity. But eternity had failed, and Fallout had come full circle, back to WZCW once more. The resistance to the aggressive expansion of the Pale Riders had all but subsided, with the sole survivor Ty Burna's eradication at the hands of Constantine. Having lost both his Elite X Championship and his chance of conquering Manzo's elimination record, Constantine was about as far as an ally as Fallout could comprehend. Yet even Fallout held a morsel of respect for the disingenuous politician for slaying a titan of the calibre of Ty Burna. Despite this fact, Constantine was as safe as anyone else, and should the sands of time determine it, Constantine would fall, just like the many others who had crossed the super-soldier, both within WZCW and outside it.
The leviathan lay on the frigid ground of the Good Doctor's embassy, trying to eradicate the torrent of bitter-sweet emotions ravaging his very conscience. He, a miracle of creation, who was pre-meditatively forged to survive against all odds, not only failed in his objective to conquer a long-standing record, but was eliminated from the Lethal Lottery before the final entrant could arrive. Normally, this would have driven the masked man to his boiling point...and yet, he was sedated with relief. His end-game had been fulfilled, and his saviour had survived the ordeal for longer than he had. He had now taken it upon himself to take the pathway to glory, with only a petulant and naive Theron Daggershield preventing his ascension.
This was a pathway Fallout had taken beforehand.
And one where he had escaped with his Elite X championship.
Fallout came to think about his previous gauntlet, and the opponents he had slain, such as Eve Taylor, now currently in possession of the belt, and twice having brought down Matt Tastic, now a two-time World Champion. If only the ultimate weapon had been there to keep him down for the past year...
As Fallout continued to recall his tally of the slain, recalling his narrow victories over the likes of Ilapa and Frank Mortlock, he drew a blank on his very first defence of the Elite X championship. Strangely, he could not force himself to remember this as he usually could, for this victory had drifted deeply into the unconscious stream of his mind. Scattered across the office floor was official WZCW documentation, pertaining to the history of championships, which Fallout had used to catch up on the prior calender year. Clawing through the paperwork like a hot knife through butter, Fallout found his very own list of triumphs and failures. Scanning swiftly through his profile, he found what he was looking for.
It was none other than the man he idolized, one Dorian Geigel.
He recoiled and threw the paper across the room, somewhat in shock and somewhat in disgust. He attempted to deny himself the ability to jump to any conclusions, but it was too late.
"An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth." a calm, chilling voice uttered in the near vicinity.
Fallout nimbly curved his body towards the bleak, wooden chair that housed the noise. Appearing before him was a familiar apparition, the same that had greeted him upon his arrival on the plains of Stygian a week prior, now seated and look down upon him.
"The doctor saw the potential in you when you eliminated him from the Elite X title hunt." Charon continued, gauging Fallout's perplexed gaze as his undying attention was obtained. "To you at the time, it was just another victory in your ever-raging conquest of WZCW. To the doctor, it was a sign of an opportunity."
The spectre reached into his pocket and produced a picture. Displayed, in unison was his former unit, the Pale Riders, all four members staring intensely, bonded together for a sole, noble cause.
"But you were merely a stage in his plan at the time. Other opportunities, such as The Beard and Amber Warren were brought into fight the war against WZCW. They were your equals, your comrades. But, try as they might, both of them still had something to fight for...their past lives."
Fallout remembered how much both of his colleagues clung to the past. Warren's loss of confidence in El Califa Dragon, and The Beard's collapse of his family. The ties were tragic...yet all the same, ties that could have been easily severed.
"You, on the other hand had shed your skin, and evolved into the self-proclaimed 'next necessary step of human evolution.' You were beyond those peons, and upon the dissolution of the faction, the doctor realised that too. You saw how The Beard back-stabbed him in the Lethal Lottery, after all the doctor had done for him, all he had done to all of you. To eliminate your weaknesses, and harness your true potential. This is what the doctor wanted from all of you."
Charon then took the picture, and studied it carefully for a moment, with a concerned look on his face. He then nonchalantly tore it up and threw it gently to the ground behind him.
"And so we draw to the present." Charon declared staunchly. "You, once lost for over a year, have now found your calling, your purpose to aid the best that humanity has to offer. And everybody wins, Fallout. You have purpose, Dorian has backing."
Fallout had heard enough, and voiced his opinion.
"Purpose..." he hissed with a rancid tone. "Purpose as what? A slave to the power of a subordinate, a subordinate who fell at my hands upon my devastation of the WZCW roster?"
"Subordinate?" Charon retorted, with a puzzled look. "You disappoint me, Fallout. I thought you were the one with perceptive prowess here. I don't think you, just like everyone else, even perhaps Dorian himself can see it, but you are equals. His goals can only succeed with you. As a result, your goal, to find purpose, is mutually attained."
The former Elite X champion saw that Charon had made a respectable point, but still had some questions to propose.
"But I want purpose where I can choose my own destiny, not to fulfil another." he stated with obstinacy.
Charon let loose a callous smirk, impressed with Fallout's determination.
"And that's all part of the plan." he crooned. "Do you think I would let such a valuable vessel as yourself be used for nothing more than another man's personal vendetta, no matter how important the man? Of course not. Which is the primary reason why I have approached today: To throw you a bone."
Fallout sat up slowly and silently, keen to hear what news Charon held hostage.
"I think it's fairly obvious you aim for equality in a working relationship, which is an admirable quality to have." Charon began carefully. "And I think what you're looking for something that can work on multiple layers, whether that is mentally, physically or psychologically. And I think a coalition could be arranged."
Fallout turned his head to the side curiously, displaying his attention to Charon. The wayfarer couldn't help but let loose another sinister grin as he informed Fallout of a new, prosperous opportunity.
***
The opaque darkness of the night veiled the figure seated vigilantly on the rusty, marine shipping container, patiently awaiting the arrival of his cohort. He gazed into the distance at the illuminated city of Vancouver, awaiting in anticipation as their moment to strike drew ever closer, a moment that would shake the very core of WZCW itself at Meltdown 122. The figure was still coming to grips with the developments of the past few hours, still trying to process exactly who or what he had formed a partnership with.
He was alien...yet he was the same.
His train of thought was interrupted by the sounds of climbing, as two leather hands gripped firmly onto the side of the container, before pulling the claws pulled their owner up onto the roof with ease. Two neon, dimly lit lights gazed towards the figure intensely, almost as if he was in a trance.
"Did you get what we needed?" John Doe asked Fallout. Fallout responded with a simple nod and handed over a dossier, which Doe took promptly.
"Excellent." he declared, before opening up the folder and skimming the details within, clearly searching for something. Fallout took this time to rest upon the container, next to his fellow warrior.
"Live Mas." Doe rasped coldly, before setting the dossier to one side. "An initial glance might suggest they could be a threat to our very partnership. A two-time former World Champion in Matt Tastic, and a highly-tenured tag team specialist in Mikey Stormrage." Doe hesitated as he said this, using the opportunity to look at Fallout, which reaffirmed his trust.
"However..." he continued. "If there's anything I've learnt, is the philosophy of the mask. And only you and I can truly understand that concept. Neither Stormrage or Tastic realise that they mask themselves every time they step foot in WZCW. It's all an illusion with them; they portray stereotypes, not themselves on the grand stage. They mask their fear, they mask their true emotions, but most importantly of all...they mask their core values. Neither of us need to mask our true intentions, for we have made it clear that our sole purpose is to inflict the same pain that we suffered from onto the privileged individuals that make up that hell-hole. That is why Stormrage continues to fail to win the big match again and again. That is why twice Tastic was eliminated by your combat skills. They are conflicted..."
Fallout nodded along, clearly impressed with Doe's perceptive detail and insight. At long last, he had found a worthy partner on equal footing.
"But before we set our sights on dismantling Live Mas, there's something that has been on my mind whilst you've been away." Doe muttered, almost to himself, but enough so that Fallout could hear him. Doe paused again to give Fallout a cursory glance, before sighing. "It's...something I need to know if we intend to succeed together."
Fallout remained composed, delivering a stoic glare to his partner.
"Dr Zeus..." Doe asked. "I need to know more about him...why do you have so much faith in this man?" What do you find you gain from aiding him?"
Fallout gave this question some thought, before casually reaching into the pocket of his duster. From it, he produced a familiar image, the same image that Charon had previously ripped apart. He passed it to Doe without hesitation, and Doe evaluated the photograph carefully for a minute or two in silence, neither man able to gauge another's true feelings. Eventually, it was Fallout who broke the ambiance.
"The good doctor..." he mumbled, nostalgia settling in. "He saved me...when I had no purpose, he gave unto me the waters of life freely whilst I was athirst. He is Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end."
Doe acknowledged Fallout's response, before carefully depositing the picture away. "Do you mind if I keep this?" he queried.
Fallout shook his head in response.
"Good." Doe replied. "I just need clarification on whether we made the right decision to aid his progress in the Lethal Lottery. By helping him, we made ourselves targets. That's why you were eliminated as early as you were. That's why I didn't survive for as long as I did. But now I know why both of us felt the need to help the doctor...it was shall we say, only fair we should repay his past favours?"
Fallout grunted in approval. By this point, the sun had begun to creep across the Vancouver landscape, and slight beams of light began to reflect off his own mask. This signalled to both men that it was time to migrate.
"Come." Doe commanded. "Let us prepare for our conquest."
"Yes." Fallout growled. "And let all fear the Children Of The Damned."
Viola Moonlight
I'm Literally Just Here for WZCW
Deadline extended for Yaz by 24 hours
Richard Blonoff
Make America Rassle Again
"How about a little music to set the mood baby?"
I took off my shirt and slipped out of my pants. As I stood in my boxers I did a little dance for ambiance.
"Yeah, you like that?"
I continued to dance provocatively until I jumped onto the bed.
"Here, let me unclasp your strap."
I unhooked her, and I couldn't wait any longer. I started to kiss all over her. I started to slowly kiss down, licking over her tiny hole.
"Yeah you like that don't you baby. You like it when daddy is naughty. You like being with a three time tag team champion don't you?"
I was rock hard and sick of foreplay, I was ready to take the plunge.
"I hope it was good for you too baby."
Soon I was asleep and cuddling my tag championship belt. Yes, the same belt I had just had sex with.
Soon a phone call woke me from my naked slumber.
"Hello."
It was Matt.
"Just rocking out with my cock out."
He didn't know I meant that literally.
"You know I'm just gonna relax and chill. I know Doe and Fallout are fucking crazy, you get that way when you don't take the time to enjoy the little things in life. Who cares if they are everything that fueled my childhood nightmares? I'm in my mid twenties now, I'm not afraid of that kiddie shit anymore....except for clowns. I fucking hate clowns."
It was true, I really did hate clowns.
"You know what man you just chill with your grandpa, tell that wacky out coot I said hi, and I'm gonna chill at my place, play some of the new Metal Gear, eat a lot of pizza, and celebrate making history. You should too man. You deserve it."
I was going to eat a lot of pizza and play the fuck out of Metal Gear.
"One week of us taking is easy and relaxing won't kill us. If we lose, so what? It isn't like neither of us have ever gone through long stretches of miserable soul crushing losses before, we can handle this shit."
It felt good knowing that I didn't have to train for a week. Matt said his goodbyes and I rolled over and gave my belt a big kiss.
"You ready for round two baby?"
[YOUTUBE]izGwDsrQ1eQ[/YOUTUBE]
I took off my shirt and slipped out of my pants. As I stood in my boxers I did a little dance for ambiance.
"Yeah, you like that?"
I continued to dance provocatively until I jumped onto the bed.
"Here, let me unclasp your strap."
I unhooked her, and I couldn't wait any longer. I started to kiss all over her. I started to slowly kiss down, licking over her tiny hole.
"Yeah you like that don't you baby. You like it when daddy is naughty. You like being with a three time tag team champion don't you?"
I was rock hard and sick of foreplay, I was ready to take the plunge.
[Insert grunts and sex noises here]
"I hope it was good for you too baby."
Soon I was asleep and cuddling my tag championship belt. Yes, the same belt I had just had sex with.
Soon a phone call woke me from my naked slumber.
"Hello."
It was Matt.
"Just rocking out with my cock out."
He didn't know I meant that literally.
"You know I'm just gonna relax and chill. I know Doe and Fallout are fucking crazy, you get that way when you don't take the time to enjoy the little things in life. Who cares if they are everything that fueled my childhood nightmares? I'm in my mid twenties now, I'm not afraid of that kiddie shit anymore....except for clowns. I fucking hate clowns."
It was true, I really did hate clowns.
"You know what man you just chill with your grandpa, tell that wacky out coot I said hi, and I'm gonna chill at my place, play some of the new Metal Gear, eat a lot of pizza, and celebrate making history. You should too man. You deserve it."
I was going to eat a lot of pizza and play the fuck out of Metal Gear.
"One week of us taking is easy and relaxing won't kill us. If we lose, so what? It isn't like neither of us have ever gone through long stretches of miserable soul crushing losses before, we can handle this shit."
It felt good knowing that I didn't have to train for a week. Matt said his goodbyes and I rolled over and gave my belt a big kiss.
"You ready for round two baby?"
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