MD 131 - Flex Mussel & Ramparte versus Dorian Slaughter
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Spidey Revivey
Porn is okay here long as it ain't dudes.
"By the power of the Otakus, I shall punish Slaughter!"
Batti Otaku struck a pose; her fingers spread out against her face as if she were transforming into a winged creature. The outfit was, to Ramparte's utter dismay, a sailor uniform from one of her cartoons. She looked over at him with a smirk on her face and a tassel of loose blonde hair bouncing atop of her very suggestive bosom.
Batti made Ramparte very uncomfortable in her gettup.
He wanted to tell her to stop, but what was the use? She was a perky, psychologically damaged anime lover who obsessed over the WZCW Universe. She never listens anyway. He shrugged, letting her have her bit off fun, and went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of White Zinfandel.
"Did you not hear me, Rammikun? We have to fight Dorian Slaughter again." ^_^
She smiled at him, closing her eyes. The Recluse shrugged again, emptying half his glass and setting it aside. Her grin was met with his grimace. He pictured how badly he was defeated last round by The Angel of Death. It was sort of poetic in a way. All of Ramparte's past transgressions reflected in young Slaughter's eyes. Ramparte gave a weak chuckle - the only noise he could make due to Kagura's spell that rendered him voiceless.
"OYE! Cheer up you fuggin' emo! Oh Em Gee it's not the end of the world you know. I'm here! Look at me...I'm ready for battle. Why aren't you?"
She twirled in her sailor suit. Batti produced a toy wand. Where she had it hiding, he did not know.
"All this dark stuff is making us all loopy. First Kagura and now Dorian. We need to fight 'em like they do in my shows. By the power of teamwork!" :3
He gazed at her, raising an eyebrow.
"I know ya don't do the team thing anymore, but ehh you still have a friend you know. You're not facing Dorian Slaughter alone."
Ramparte's stare went from curious to panicked. He shook his head. Surely not...
To further the plot, the doorbell rang.
The Recluse banged his fist against the kitchen bar, signalling for Batti to not answer it. The red wine released a tremor. She did anyways.
"Bonjour, mon ami. Is Godfrey Ramparte home?"
"Oooo such a gentleman! Yesh Senpai is here. Come in." ; )
For the first time since Kingdom Come, Cerberus stood in the same room. Nothing physical had changed between the two except the stories their eyes told. They were seasoned veterans now, battleworn and rugged. The silence grew deafening. Flex Mussel broke the ambience.
"Ramparte...it's good to see you again."
He extended a hand. Ramparte took it. They embraced. The awkward hesitation had dissipated. They were on the same side again. At least for the moment. Letting go, Ramparte turned to his maid.
"Oh yeah! You need your chalkboard. I'm a silly goose."
She sprinted in search of it. Ram rolled his eyes.
"I see your taste in women has gotten better, my friend. But you still prefer blondes, eh? Some things never change."
Even if it was a friendly jab, it cut The Recluse a bit. He was reminded of Eve Taylor and how part of Cerberus disbanding was how Flex and himself had become infatuated with the model. He faked a smile.
"Kagura really did hex you, didn't she? I didn't believe it at first. Maybe that's her way of flirting with ya. Remember how you used to be all about the hocus pocus stuff, too? Who knows maybe you'd both make a hell of a Power Couple. Could really help your career."
His old friend was ribbing him again, going from waving off the woman that stole his voice to making fun of his career. Ramparte stared at Flex, the man who had retired Showtime. The man who went the distance with Hall of Famer Titus and was in title contention on a regular basis. Where was his title shot?
Thankfully, the WZCWeeaboo returned with the only way he could communicate.
Rampare etched quickly on the board. He smirked callously and showed his comrade.
...
...
"My maid is better looking than Svetlana, don't you agree?"
Flex's chipper demeanor faltered, and the mute noticed. A small victory was won. The gym rat quickly recovered and let out a hearty albeit too cheerful laugh.
"I suppose I deserve that one, huh? Anyways enough of our punches. We should be delivering them to our mutual enemy. I'm not going to put it lightly, Dorian Slaughter ran through you, You, the same man that managed to defeat Matt Tastic not too long ago. But it's alright. I'm here and we can work as a cohesive unit once again."
"OMFG CERBERUS REUNION!!! Squeeee!!!" XD
Both men looked at her funny. Ramparte erased his board, about to answer her, but Flex beat him to it.
"No no my caffeinated lady. We are teaming up again, it's true. But we are not being announced as Cerberus."
Batti cocked her head. Her cheerful expression faded into heartbreaking realization.
"We aren't ready for that. Maybe we never will be."
"That's not fair...that's not fair at all..."
Her eyes had somehow grown larger. They were beginning to form tears.
"Hey now, it's okay hon. Sometimes these things take time-"
"WAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!" X'(
"Oh sweet fucking God" Ramparte thought.
"Okay okay we can try now, alright? Don't cry! We'll try reconciling."
Ramparte exchanged glances with Flex. He knew Flex was lying, but if it calmed her down then it was worth doing.
"Y-you will?"
"Oui! The Hounds of Hell will hunt again."
"Oh-oh-okay. Couples' Therapy it is then.
"Couples what now?"
The three of them sat in a circle. Batti, who was no longer wearing her magical girl outfit was now in a tie die shirt, beads, and she somehow got her bouncy blonde hair into dreadlocks.
"It's time to let go of bad vibes, guys. You both need peace in your hearts to conquer the mountain of evil that is Slaughter."
Cerberus looked at each other awkwardly. Batti saw this.
"Eh this hippie stuff sucks. Aquarius is such a poser."
"Who?"
"Nevermind. Let's just sit around with our eyes closed and see if anything happens."
And so they did. For a long long time.
...
Ramparte saw the shrine maiden. In the folds of her robe the book taunted him. He wanted it. He wanted to speak again.
"You want it for more than that, Ramparte."
That voice...it was familiar. But he couldn't place it. Kagura faded away and in her place another dark entity stood. The Angel of Death. Dorian Slaughter looked him over, not sneering in arrogance but in passivity. He was just another face in the crowd where Dorian was concerned. The impudence left a bad taste in The Recluse's mouth.
"It eats you alive, doesn't it? Knowing that you could have been where Slaughter stands now. Cerberus took so much away from you in the end, didn't it?"
"Who are you?"
Ramparte could speak!
"Don't ask stupid questions, Ramparte."
Now Dorian Slaughter evaporated. In his place...
"No..."
He wore ivory. His hair was kissed by Apollo himself as the long blonde hair was tied up into a ponytail. He toted a cane in the grip of his glove. The Man In White breathed in the air. He licked his lips. There was a faint smell in the air.
Pomegranates.
"Wipe that look off of your face. You know you miss me."
Ramparte stood toe to toe with Ramparte.
"You no longer exist. I've moved on from this childish persona."
"Childish? When you were me, there was no Dorian Slaughter. No Kagura WhateverSheCallsHerself. We made waves. But now your friend is Main Event material and you're barely making it with a fucking teenager hounding you. What is up with that? You plan on tapping that or what?"
Ramparte looked at his former self with absolute disgust.
"Oh please. I'm you, remember? Don't act like you don't have sexual desires for her. You should go back to being me, though. I'd satisfy her weird fetishes."
The Recluse punched The Catalyst. His hand went through him.
"There we go! This is the Ramparte the world pays to see. Stop with this foolish hero stuff. It's not you. You've got blood on your name. Everybody but you knows that."
"I'm not trying to be a goddamn hero!"
Ramparte jerked awake. Flex and Batti were still in their trance. He surveyed the room. The chalkboard wasn't where he had left it. It was now propped up against the door. The words made the hairs on his neck stand on end.
Batti Otaku struck a pose; her fingers spread out against her face as if she were transforming into a winged creature. The outfit was, to Ramparte's utter dismay, a sailor uniform from one of her cartoons. She looked over at him with a smirk on her face and a tassel of loose blonde hair bouncing atop of her very suggestive bosom.
Batti made Ramparte very uncomfortable in her gettup.
He wanted to tell her to stop, but what was the use? She was a perky, psychologically damaged anime lover who obsessed over the WZCW Universe. She never listens anyway. He shrugged, letting her have her bit off fun, and went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of White Zinfandel.
"Did you not hear me, Rammikun? We have to fight Dorian Slaughter again." ^_^
She smiled at him, closing her eyes. The Recluse shrugged again, emptying half his glass and setting it aside. Her grin was met with his grimace. He pictured how badly he was defeated last round by The Angel of Death. It was sort of poetic in a way. All of Ramparte's past transgressions reflected in young Slaughter's eyes. Ramparte gave a weak chuckle - the only noise he could make due to Kagura's spell that rendered him voiceless.
"OYE! Cheer up you fuggin' emo! Oh Em Gee it's not the end of the world you know. I'm here! Look at me...I'm ready for battle. Why aren't you?"
She twirled in her sailor suit. Batti produced a toy wand. Where she had it hiding, he did not know.
"All this dark stuff is making us all loopy. First Kagura and now Dorian. We need to fight 'em like they do in my shows. By the power of teamwork!" :3
He gazed at her, raising an eyebrow.
"I know ya don't do the team thing anymore, but ehh you still have a friend you know. You're not facing Dorian Slaughter alone."
Ramparte's stare went from curious to panicked. He shook his head. Surely not...
To further the plot, the doorbell rang.
The Recluse banged his fist against the kitchen bar, signalling for Batti to not answer it. The red wine released a tremor. She did anyways.
"Bonjour, mon ami. Is Godfrey Ramparte home?"
"Oooo such a gentleman! Yesh Senpai is here. Come in." ; )
For the first time since Kingdom Come, Cerberus stood in the same room. Nothing physical had changed between the two except the stories their eyes told. They were seasoned veterans now, battleworn and rugged. The silence grew deafening. Flex Mussel broke the ambience.
"Ramparte...it's good to see you again."
He extended a hand. Ramparte took it. They embraced. The awkward hesitation had dissipated. They were on the same side again. At least for the moment. Letting go, Ramparte turned to his maid.
"Oh yeah! You need your chalkboard. I'm a silly goose."
She sprinted in search of it. Ram rolled his eyes.
"I see your taste in women has gotten better, my friend. But you still prefer blondes, eh? Some things never change."
Even if it was a friendly jab, it cut The Recluse a bit. He was reminded of Eve Taylor and how part of Cerberus disbanding was how Flex and himself had become infatuated with the model. He faked a smile.
"Kagura really did hex you, didn't she? I didn't believe it at first. Maybe that's her way of flirting with ya. Remember how you used to be all about the hocus pocus stuff, too? Who knows maybe you'd both make a hell of a Power Couple. Could really help your career."
His old friend was ribbing him again, going from waving off the woman that stole his voice to making fun of his career. Ramparte stared at Flex, the man who had retired Showtime. The man who went the distance with Hall of Famer Titus and was in title contention on a regular basis. Where was his title shot?
Thankfully, the WZCWeeaboo returned with the only way he could communicate.
Rampare etched quickly on the board. He smirked callously and showed his comrade.
...
...
"My maid is better looking than Svetlana, don't you agree?"
Flex's chipper demeanor faltered, and the mute noticed. A small victory was won. The gym rat quickly recovered and let out a hearty albeit too cheerful laugh.
"I suppose I deserve that one, huh? Anyways enough of our punches. We should be delivering them to our mutual enemy. I'm not going to put it lightly, Dorian Slaughter ran through you, You, the same man that managed to defeat Matt Tastic not too long ago. But it's alright. I'm here and we can work as a cohesive unit once again."
"OMFG CERBERUS REUNION!!! Squeeee!!!" XD
Both men looked at her funny. Ramparte erased his board, about to answer her, but Flex beat him to it.
"No no my caffeinated lady. We are teaming up again, it's true. But we are not being announced as Cerberus."
Batti cocked her head. Her cheerful expression faded into heartbreaking realization.
"We aren't ready for that. Maybe we never will be."
"That's not fair...that's not fair at all..."
Her eyes had somehow grown larger. They were beginning to form tears.
"Hey now, it's okay hon. Sometimes these things take time-"
"WAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!" X'(
"Oh sweet fucking God" Ramparte thought.
"Okay okay we can try now, alright? Don't cry! We'll try reconciling."
Ramparte exchanged glances with Flex. He knew Flex was lying, but if it calmed her down then it was worth doing.
"Y-you will?"
"Oui! The Hounds of Hell will hunt again."
"Oh-oh-okay. Couples' Therapy it is then.
"Couples what now?"
__________________________________________________________
The three of them sat in a circle. Batti, who was no longer wearing her magical girl outfit was now in a tie die shirt, beads, and she somehow got her bouncy blonde hair into dreadlocks.
"It's time to let go of bad vibes, guys. You both need peace in your hearts to conquer the mountain of evil that is Slaughter."
Cerberus looked at each other awkwardly. Batti saw this.
"Eh this hippie stuff sucks. Aquarius is such a poser."
"Who?"
"Nevermind. Let's just sit around with our eyes closed and see if anything happens."
And so they did. For a long long time.
...
Ramparte saw the shrine maiden. In the folds of her robe the book taunted him. He wanted it. He wanted to speak again.
"You want it for more than that, Ramparte."
That voice...it was familiar. But he couldn't place it. Kagura faded away and in her place another dark entity stood. The Angel of Death. Dorian Slaughter looked him over, not sneering in arrogance but in passivity. He was just another face in the crowd where Dorian was concerned. The impudence left a bad taste in The Recluse's mouth.
"It eats you alive, doesn't it? Knowing that you could have been where Slaughter stands now. Cerberus took so much away from you in the end, didn't it?"
"Who are you?"
Ramparte could speak!
"Don't ask stupid questions, Ramparte."
Now Dorian Slaughter evaporated. In his place...
"No..."
He wore ivory. His hair was kissed by Apollo himself as the long blonde hair was tied up into a ponytail. He toted a cane in the grip of his glove. The Man In White breathed in the air. He licked his lips. There was a faint smell in the air.
Pomegranates.
"Wipe that look off of your face. You know you miss me."
Ramparte stood toe to toe with Ramparte.
"You no longer exist. I've moved on from this childish persona."
"Childish? When you were me, there was no Dorian Slaughter. No Kagura WhateverSheCallsHerself. We made waves. But now your friend is Main Event material and you're barely making it with a fucking teenager hounding you. What is up with that? You plan on tapping that or what?"
Ramparte looked at his former self with absolute disgust.
"Oh please. I'm you, remember? Don't act like you don't have sexual desires for her. You should go back to being me, though. I'd satisfy her weird fetishes."
The Recluse punched The Catalyst. His hand went through him.
"There we go! This is the Ramparte the world pays to see. Stop with this foolish hero stuff. It's not you. You've got blood on your name. Everybody but you knows that."
"I'm not trying to be a goddamn hero!"
Ramparte jerked awake. Flex and Batti were still in their trance. He surveyed the room. The chalkboard wasn't where he had left it. It was now propped up against the door. The words made the hairs on his neck stand on end.
"Who Are You Trying To Be, Then?"
[YOUTUBE]xz5Mx3a8kRw[/YOUTUBE]
THE NEW TESTAMENT OF THE BOOK OF SLAUGHTER
I Slaughter
The black sun never sets, for it never rose.
The wolf peruses the lush forest, ever the predator, ever the analyzer. Fearing nothing, comfortable and steadfast in its domain. In the absence of fear exists its forceful pride. Lacking prejudice against its prey, it strikes fast and without choice. Instinct fuels its quest for dominance, a flamboyant kill supersedes a necessary meal.
The Serpent skitters across the dampened forest canvas. Ever the predator, ever the analyzer. Fearing nothing, comfortable and steadfast in His domain. In the absence of fear exists His forceful pride. Lacking prejudice against His prey, He strikes fast, yet possesses directive. Adjudication fuels His quest for dominance, a necessary meal supersedes a flamboyant kill.
The wolf advances quickly on a fox. The pursuit is intense as the gnarling wolf secretes dense salivation from its carnivorous jaws. The cunning prey keeps its attacker at bay, weaving through the undercarriage of the dense terrain, intermittently halting in each available nook and cranny before the predator's hunting sense leads it back to its targeted meal. Ultimately, despite its cunning, the fox is devoured. The wolf eats, but is not content, ever the glutton for dominance over its domain, his quest to kill is never truly fulfilled.
The wolf stalks the great steed from the shadows, measuring the bulkier adversary for an opportune time to strike. Its breath remains calm despite the rush of the hunt, each covert step inching it closer to its prey. The wolf strikes without warning, its firm fangs penetrating the hide of the fallen steed, the warmth of the prey's lifeblood peaks every sensation in the wolf's being. The feast is ample, even excessive, but the triumph serves as justification moreso than the meal.
The wolf's senses are aroused at the faint crack of a twig under the canopy of the forest at its rear. Abandoning its fallen prey, it poises itself to defend its claim. Circling the pooling bloody remains of the steed, the wolf remains focused, at the ready to defend or attack, whichever is deemed fit by nature.
The second wolf emerges tranquilly from the underbelly of the forest, shrouded in the darkness at its back, its approach is steady and unyielding.
The two predators circle one another, each scrutinizing the others demeanor. Their yellowed eyes peer deeply into one another, seeking a sign of truce or a declaration of war. Perhaps they had met in passing, perhaps they had formed an alliance in another life. Their snarls serve as communication, neither acknowledging the potential threat of the other, yet neither accepting the impending companionship of a kin.
The Serpent strikes fiercely at the throat of the glutted wolf. Without warning, the predator becomes the prey. Startled by the sudden massacre of its brethren, the second wolf turns to retreat to the haven offered by the darkness of the woods. Its retreat is met with a sudden blockade in the form of The Serpent's fiery scales. Towering over the wolf, The Serpent's tongue lashes out from above, setting the wolf's fur ablaze. The beast whimpers, staggering backward toward the slaughtered steed. The steed's corpse vanishes as the Earth opens to swallow predator and prey as one.
Slaughter (voice-over): I am horror.
Flames protrude from the gaping Earth as the pool of the steed's blood turns thick and deep in crimson, flooding the floor of the forest as the flames ignite the canopy overhead.
Slaughter (voice-over): I am the creator, and the destroyer.
The skies turn dim as clouds rush in, inundating the background with a dismal grey, the blistering flames providing the only light.
Slaughter: (voice-over): A black cloud of corrosive breath.
From the gaping Earth, the wolf's corpses are launched forth. Their torsos smoldering and steaming from the cessation of mortality, the reproach upon their faces becomes evident as they are catapulted into the abyss.
Slaughter (voice-over): The giver, the taker, the messenger of Death.
Out from the pit crawl the reborn souls of the damned, rising toward the voice of their Liberator, eager to carry out His directive as it were laid out to them. The crowd of souls reforms upon the barren Earth, seeking direction from The Serpent Deceiver.
Slaughter (voice-over): We have arrived, now let us join as one army in this fight to liberate the condemned.
Crowd: Hail Cerberus!
I Slaughter
The black sun never sets, for it never rose.
The wolf peruses the lush forest, ever the predator, ever the analyzer. Fearing nothing, comfortable and steadfast in its domain. In the absence of fear exists its forceful pride. Lacking prejudice against its prey, it strikes fast and without choice. Instinct fuels its quest for dominance, a flamboyant kill supersedes a necessary meal.
The Serpent skitters across the dampened forest canvas. Ever the predator, ever the analyzer. Fearing nothing, comfortable and steadfast in His domain. In the absence of fear exists His forceful pride. Lacking prejudice against His prey, He strikes fast, yet possesses directive. Adjudication fuels His quest for dominance, a necessary meal supersedes a flamboyant kill.
The wolf advances quickly on a fox. The pursuit is intense as the gnarling wolf secretes dense salivation from its carnivorous jaws. The cunning prey keeps its attacker at bay, weaving through the undercarriage of the dense terrain, intermittently halting in each available nook and cranny before the predator's hunting sense leads it back to its targeted meal. Ultimately, despite its cunning, the fox is devoured. The wolf eats, but is not content, ever the glutton for dominance over its domain, his quest to kill is never truly fulfilled.
The wolf stalks the great steed from the shadows, measuring the bulkier adversary for an opportune time to strike. Its breath remains calm despite the rush of the hunt, each covert step inching it closer to its prey. The wolf strikes without warning, its firm fangs penetrating the hide of the fallen steed, the warmth of the prey's lifeblood peaks every sensation in the wolf's being. The feast is ample, even excessive, but the triumph serves as justification moreso than the meal.
The wolf's senses are aroused at the faint crack of a twig under the canopy of the forest at its rear. Abandoning its fallen prey, it poises itself to defend its claim. Circling the pooling bloody remains of the steed, the wolf remains focused, at the ready to defend or attack, whichever is deemed fit by nature.
The second wolf emerges tranquilly from the underbelly of the forest, shrouded in the darkness at its back, its approach is steady and unyielding.
The two predators circle one another, each scrutinizing the others demeanor. Their yellowed eyes peer deeply into one another, seeking a sign of truce or a declaration of war. Perhaps they had met in passing, perhaps they had formed an alliance in another life. Their snarls serve as communication, neither acknowledging the potential threat of the other, yet neither accepting the impending companionship of a kin.
The Serpent strikes fiercely at the throat of the glutted wolf. Without warning, the predator becomes the prey. Startled by the sudden massacre of its brethren, the second wolf turns to retreat to the haven offered by the darkness of the woods. Its retreat is met with a sudden blockade in the form of The Serpent's fiery scales. Towering over the wolf, The Serpent's tongue lashes out from above, setting the wolf's fur ablaze. The beast whimpers, staggering backward toward the slaughtered steed. The steed's corpse vanishes as the Earth opens to swallow predator and prey as one.
Slaughter (voice-over): I am horror.
Flames protrude from the gaping Earth as the pool of the steed's blood turns thick and deep in crimson, flooding the floor of the forest as the flames ignite the canopy overhead.
Slaughter (voice-over): I am the creator, and the destroyer.
The skies turn dim as clouds rush in, inundating the background with a dismal grey, the blistering flames providing the only light.
Slaughter: (voice-over): A black cloud of corrosive breath.
From the gaping Earth, the wolf's corpses are launched forth. Their torsos smoldering and steaming from the cessation of mortality, the reproach upon their faces becomes evident as they are catapulted into the abyss.
Slaughter (voice-over): The giver, the taker, the messenger of Death.
Out from the pit crawl the reborn souls of the damned, rising toward the voice of their Liberator, eager to carry out His directive as it were laid out to them. The crowd of souls reforms upon the barren Earth, seeking direction from The Serpent Deceiver.
Slaughter (voice-over): We have arrived, now let us join as one army in this fight to liberate the condemned.
Crowd: Hail Cerberus!
FlexAmerican Dynamite
WZCW WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION
Two wolves can be seen in walking in a deserted forest. The two wolves eventually stumble upon a piece of meat. Both the wolves want it but its too small of a piece to share. Neither wolf wants to fight the other but both come to the realization that its the only option. Both wolves gear up to fight each other but their conflict is soon interrupted but an ominous figure. Its presence is shadowy and quite terrifying to the wolves. To the pair of animals the figure looks like death itself. Almost as if its a reaper. Neither has seen anything like it. In one foul swoop the reaper is able to attack both the wolves ripping them to shreds. However one wolf is just barely left breathing lying on the ground. It watches as the reaper delivers the final blow to his friend. The reaper delivers a smile before walking over the fatally wounded wolf to deliver one final blow-
RAMPARTE!
FLEX!
RAMPARTE!!
FLEX!!
RAMPARTE!!!
FLEX!!!
The healthiest man alive Flex Mussel awoke from his trance to see Batti Otaku and Charles The Cheesecake Chesterfield yelling at each other over a coffee table. In their hands are WZCW trading cards, more specifically however, the super rare and collectible Cerberus tag team card. Dazed and confused Flex looks around for his former partner only to find him secluded in his own little corner of the room staring at a chalkboard.
Batti: RAMPARTE!!!!
Charles: Fle-
Flex: SHUT UP! Both of you shut the HELL UP!!! Charles how did you get in here?
Charles: I cant believe you didnt tell me you were having a Cerberus reunion!! I had to hack into your phone just to see your messages and then I followed you here.
Flex: This isnt a reunion, its a one off, simple as that.
Charles: Well whatever it is Im glad I showed up. This chick is trying to proclaim that Ramparte is better than you!
Batti: Well its true! Sorry senpai
Flex: Look the question of who is better doesnt matter, at least not tonight Rambo and I are teaming together to take on Dorian Slaughter-
Batti: I shall punish Slaughter!
Flex: .Dont interrupt me .
Batti: Sorry Senpai .
Charles: At least Flex Senpai wasnt completely obliterated by Slaughter.
Flex: Watch your mouth Charles, Ram was just having an off night isnt that right?
The monsieur of muscle looks over to his former tag team partner only to see him still staring at his chalkboard, giving no response in the slightest.
Flex: ISNT that right?!
The recluse still gives no response at all. This begins to irritate Flex so much so that he storms over to Ramparte and forcefully turns his gaze away from the chalkboard.
Flex: Whats wrong with you?! This hex is all in your head! Kagura doesnt have control over you! Snap out of it, we cant defeat Slaughter if we have no communication. You cant take a chalkboard into the ring Ram!
Ramparte stares at Flex, and then proceeds to etch something into the chalkboard.
Ramparte: Were not the wolves we once were just as Slaughter isnt the reaper he once was hes worse.
And just like that images of Flexs trance begin to flashback in his head. He begins to fear the thought of the once mighty hounds of hell being devastated by the reaper Slaughter. He becomes annoyed with Ramparte even bringing up the idea of it. He then begins to think about the other wolf in his dream. How the reaper forced him to watch that wolf being executed. He begins to think that Ramparte is that other wolf. He begins to worry that come Meltdown Ramparte will be destroyed right in front of his eyes, and then his fate will be next. However, the idea of Ramparte being destroyed doesnt exactly sadden the bodybuilder. While the two are on good terms now Flex remembers when the wolves were almost at each others throats over the piece of meat. In the long run Ramparte will always be his competition, and as long as hes around the piece of meat will never truly be Flexs for the taking. Conflicting ideas begin to swirl in Flexs head. Should he take advantage of Rampartes current state to not only let his former friend fall victim to Slaughter? Should he use him as a pawn to distract Slaughter so he can exact his revenge? Thoughts like this would usually never come into the mind of Flex. This is something that someone like Dorian Slaughter would do. Flex begins to feel sickened by what hes thinking.
Flex: It was nice seeing Ramparte but I have prior engagements I forgot I must attend
Charles: What prior-
Flex: Prior engagements Charles!
Flex shakes his former partners hand before shoving Charles towards the door. The two quickly exit as Batti takes one last inappropriate glance at the bodybuilder before opening the door for their exit.
Flex: Ill see you at Meltdown Ram
Ram gives a reluctant wave goodbye followed by Batti closing the door.
Flex: .maybe for the last time .
RAMPARTE!
FLEX!
RAMPARTE!!
FLEX!!
RAMPARTE!!!
FLEX!!!
The healthiest man alive Flex Mussel awoke from his trance to see Batti Otaku and Charles The Cheesecake Chesterfield yelling at each other over a coffee table. In their hands are WZCW trading cards, more specifically however, the super rare and collectible Cerberus tag team card. Dazed and confused Flex looks around for his former partner only to find him secluded in his own little corner of the room staring at a chalkboard.
Batti: RAMPARTE!!!!
Charles: Fle-
Flex: SHUT UP! Both of you shut the HELL UP!!! Charles how did you get in here?
Charles: I cant believe you didnt tell me you were having a Cerberus reunion!! I had to hack into your phone just to see your messages and then I followed you here.
Flex: This isnt a reunion, its a one off, simple as that.
Charles: Well whatever it is Im glad I showed up. This chick is trying to proclaim that Ramparte is better than you!
Batti: Well its true! Sorry senpai
Flex: Look the question of who is better doesnt matter, at least not tonight Rambo and I are teaming together to take on Dorian Slaughter-
Batti: I shall punish Slaughter!
Flex: .Dont interrupt me .
Batti: Sorry Senpai .
Charles: At least Flex Senpai wasnt completely obliterated by Slaughter.
Flex: Watch your mouth Charles, Ram was just having an off night isnt that right?
The monsieur of muscle looks over to his former tag team partner only to see him still staring at his chalkboard, giving no response in the slightest.
Flex: ISNT that right?!
The recluse still gives no response at all. This begins to irritate Flex so much so that he storms over to Ramparte and forcefully turns his gaze away from the chalkboard.
Flex: Whats wrong with you?! This hex is all in your head! Kagura doesnt have control over you! Snap out of it, we cant defeat Slaughter if we have no communication. You cant take a chalkboard into the ring Ram!
Ramparte stares at Flex, and then proceeds to etch something into the chalkboard.
Ramparte: Were not the wolves we once were just as Slaughter isnt the reaper he once was hes worse.
And just like that images of Flexs trance begin to flashback in his head. He begins to fear the thought of the once mighty hounds of hell being devastated by the reaper Slaughter. He becomes annoyed with Ramparte even bringing up the idea of it. He then begins to think about the other wolf in his dream. How the reaper forced him to watch that wolf being executed. He begins to think that Ramparte is that other wolf. He begins to worry that come Meltdown Ramparte will be destroyed right in front of his eyes, and then his fate will be next. However, the idea of Ramparte being destroyed doesnt exactly sadden the bodybuilder. While the two are on good terms now Flex remembers when the wolves were almost at each others throats over the piece of meat. In the long run Ramparte will always be his competition, and as long as hes around the piece of meat will never truly be Flexs for the taking. Conflicting ideas begin to swirl in Flexs head. Should he take advantage of Rampartes current state to not only let his former friend fall victim to Slaughter? Should he use him as a pawn to distract Slaughter so he can exact his revenge? Thoughts like this would usually never come into the mind of Flex. This is something that someone like Dorian Slaughter would do. Flex begins to feel sickened by what hes thinking.
Flex: It was nice seeing Ramparte but I have prior engagements I forgot I must attend
Charles: What prior-
Flex: Prior engagements Charles!
Flex shakes his former partners hand before shoving Charles towards the door. The two quickly exit as Batti takes one last inappropriate glance at the bodybuilder before opening the door for their exit.
Flex: Ill see you at Meltdown Ram
Ram gives a reluctant wave goodbye followed by Batti closing the door.
Flex: .maybe for the last time .
- Status
