MD90: Strikeforce vs. Sacrificial Altar (DC/Westhoff)

[Viola Moonlight]

Despite the announcement of James Howard & Mikey Stormrage deciding to stick as singles competitors, the General Manager of Meltdown decided to host one final match where the two team up and reunite as the famed Strikeforce to take on two members of the Sacrificial Altar who have plagued both mens' careers for some time. D.C. will be looking to gain his rite of passage as he teams with up Mason Westhoff who hasn't gotten along with recently but has been very successful in competition. Will the reunion give a positive result for Strikeforce or another notch for the Altar?

Deadline is Tuesday, June 11th 2013, at 11:59 P.M. (Central Time Zone)​

 

[Kermit]

Strikeforce has received a 24hr extension.

 

[Shotaro]

In the downtime between shows Mikey and I try to make an effort to hang out, it had been way too long since we’d hung out properly and so our first full day back after the tapings we headed to a small diner about nine miles away on the highway. Sam’s was a contradiction in design, the feel of a fifties diner with the sheen and polish of Hollywood; all it needed was a greaser by the jukebox and it would’ve been like walking into Al’s.

Our booth was by the door, that way I could pop outside quickly for a smoke without some douche-bag implying I was giving him emphysema. The red ‘leather’ cushions were as soft as the material allowed, though the tell-tale squeak of real leather was noticeably absent. The waitress made her way over to us.

“What’s your order?” The waitress leant in towards us; she had the body of a porn star and the face of a meth addict. She looked like the business had chewed her up and spat her out ten years ago.

“I’ll have a breakfast, no tomatoes and a coffee” I replied, not noticing that the thing also had fried mushrooms, they were like little spongy bombs of grease when they were cooked badly and this was not a place that didn’t fry mushrooms. I had hesitated near the entrance when I noticed that you couldn’t see the kitchen, but we’d trekked this far since Mikey had become a bit of a regular.

“Hey Mikey” The waitress said, she had a charm about her, even if she looked like a girl who’d blow you for $5 and give you change. “What you having today my favourite superstar?”

Mikey was squirming in his chair, deliberately avoiding eye contact. “The works, with a milkshake.”
The butter-faced waitress made her way to the hatch, her softly spoken customer service voice transforming into an unearthly shriek, so horrific was the voice that it was almost impossible to decipher.

“Wow, man. She really has a thing for you.” I chuckled as I leant back in the pleather.

“Nah, she’s like that with everyone.” Mikey smiled as he spoke, he turned towards the window as he spoke.

“Yeah. Well she is a waitress after all.” I said with the smuggest grin I could muster.

“Asshole... Why we at this diner anyway? You hate diner food.”

“Well, we need to go scope out some churches. Dinah’s family are super catholic, they’ll disown her or drag her to hell or something if Oliver isn’t baptised.”

“They’ll drag her to hell? Jeez guy, they’re Catholics, not gypsies.”

“Yeah, well anyway. They’ve been bugging us constantly asking when we’re doing it ever since he was born. So I figured you and I can go and scout out some locations.”

“Great, so we’re about to have a match with hierophants and you’re taking us to a church.”

“Hierophants? When did you eat a dictionary?”

“Huh? Oh they’re from Warhammer 40k, it’s all religion in there so I figured that’s what a hierophant is.”

Instantly I ripped my phone out of my pocket. A quick search later and I found out that hierophants are people who bring a congregation to a holy site.

“Wow, good call man. The Sacrificial Altar are hierophants. Who’d’ve known?”

“Uh, I did...”

A brief argument ensued in which Mikey insisted he knew what hierophant meant to begin with but used Warhammer so as not to insult me by using a word I didn’t understand. I got mad, real mad and ended up going for a cigarette, as I left some guy yelled at me for being too close to the door.

By the time I’d returned to the diner the waitress was back, with plates in her hands Mikey’s meal, I say meal but I mean a Krakatau of food, was already being eaten by the time I sat down. I thanked the waitress, so did Mikey, I think. As I watched a man eat a plate of food the size of a baby I pawed at mine, unsurprisingly Mikey had finished before me.

“Hey man” I said as I played with the scrambled eggs on my plate “what’s our plan for The Sacrificial Altar anyway? I mean, we’ve challenged them to a match but what now?”

“Well, first things first we need to beat the goons this week. Westhoff and D.C. shouldn’t be too hard, you beat D.C. this week, I just need to take care of Jacobs.”

“Westhoff, you need to take care of Westhoff”

“Yeah, sorry they all blur into one.”

“D.C. wasn’t so straight forward though bud, he took me closer to the edge than I’d’ve liked to have been. If he hadn’t given me space I wouldn’t have beaten him, also neither of us has ever beaten Westhoff.”

“It’s different now, last time we didn’t know what to expect, Westhoff and Jacobs caught us napping.”

“I know man, but we still have to get things right. If we lose it’s going to be deflating for us, we can’t lose. We can’t afford it. We're better than them and that's all there is to it. We can beat them. Once we're done today we'll go hit the gym, we need to be ready for whatever crazy ideas they throw at us.”

I finished my last mouthful of food as Mikey placed his empty coffee cup on the table.

“Where’s this church anyway?”

“It’s the Cathedral of Saint Mary of the Assumption.”

“Sorry it’s the what?”

“It’s the cathedral in the city centre.”

“Then why the hell are we on the highway then?”

“I figured I’d get a meal in you before I asked you something.”

“You have a girlfriend, and a son. Also I’m not gay.”

“Ha ha, very funny no, me and Dinah were talking. We’d like you to be Oliver’s godfather.”

“Godfather? What like Marlon Brando, I know I’m fat but, come on.”

“It means you’d officially be his uncle, and if anything happened to me and Dinah he’d be in your custody.” I had trailed off at the end, my speech growing increasingly rapid.

“Did you just say I’d have to take care of Oliver if you died?”

“Yeah, I mean assuming we’re not all in some horrifying car crash or something.”

“Uh, I don’t know if I can do that.”

“You’d be third on the list”

“THIRD ON THE LIST!?” Mikey yelled as I continued talking over him.

“Family takes precedence, in all honesty it’s meaningless but I needed to tell you that could be a thing that happens.”

“Third on the list?” Mikey paused for a minute, before looking up. “When we going to see the penguin?”

“Firstly it’s a cathedral, not a nunnery. Second we’re going straight away Elwood, well as soon as we get our suits on.”

“Suits?”

“We’re meeting a priest. I thought it would be better than if I went wearing my jeans and ‘Jesus is a...’ uh, yeah the really blasphemous hoodie.”

“I thought it was strange that you weren’t wearing it to the diner.”
“Anyway, let’s get cleaned up and head out to the cathedral.”

As I stood there in my suit, waiting on the bonnet I lit a cigarette. I felt like Mister Blonde and the Sacrificial Altar still had both of its ears. I figure it’s time to quit barking and start biting.

 

[Shotaro]

It had been months since I had last worn my suit. It seemed so long ago, back when life was simpler for me. I was coming off an amazing high, having picked up my first victory. It would be the first of many victories for Strikeforce as a team. Little did I know when I first put on this suit that I would go on to become part of one of the greatest tag teams this company had ever seen. I was also unaware of the pain and anguish that would enter into my life as well. No longer was I happy and carefree, I was now angry and bitter. Long gone were the days of celebration and jubilation over each victory. No, now defeat had taken the place of victory, and my nights were filled with the drinking to forget, instead of drinking to celebrate. I didn't recognize the face in the mirror before me as I did my best to tie my tie. I didn't like the man I had become. I desperately wanted to rid myself of the demons I carried and be happy once again. I knew how it had to be done. There isn't enough room on this Earth for The Sacrificial Altar and Strikeforce. Only one of us would survive our encounter, and I would be dammed if I was going out the loser.

"Almost ready mate?"

James called from the parking lot in Sam’s diner, the annoyance in his voice was clear. I had taken more than enough time to get ready, although I wish I’d been told I’d need to wear a suit today, we could’ve talked about ‘Like a Virgin’ being about Madonna’s first black lover. I gave my tie one last tug in a poor attempt to fix it and reached for the door.

"About damn time. We are going to be late."

"What is the issue? This isn't even an actual service, we are just meeting with the priest to talk things over and set up a date. Also why did you not tell me where we were going until we were on the goddamn highway?"

I was still fiddling with my tie as I made my way out of the diner’s shower and towards the car.

I closed my eyes and allowed my mind to wonder. I was bothered my the fact that in the past few days James was beginning to show more acceptance toward Derek Jacobs. The same man who saw to it that James would spend Christmas last year laid up in a hospital bed with an injured neck. I still didn't trust him. He was the same man who put me out of action just a few months before. My injury wasn't nearly as bad as what James had gone through, but I still had no reason to trust him. This wasn't Return of the Jedi, Jacobs wasn't just suddenly going to have a change of heart and betray his master. Mystique and Westhoff had to be working an angle. And what of DC, where did he fit into their game? I had reason to work hard this week to secure victory. Twice I have had a shot at Westhoff, and twice he has gotten the upper hand. Underhanded tactics or not, a win was a win and he was up on me. DC on the other hand had yet to pick up a victory in his short time back. I didn't want to be remembered as the guy he beat to get the ball rolling again. On top of that he was the one who cost me a shot at winning the Lethal Lottery. Even without the big picture in mind, I had reason enough to want revenge.

Outside of the traffic we caught when church let out, we had a fairly uneventful drive. Upon arriving we walked in and greeted the priest. I should say James greeted the priest, I was walking around trying to find something to entertain myself. James had made it clear I was not to have my DS inside the church. The priest began to ask the two some questions as I took a seat in the pew closest to them.

"I'm very glad to have you hear today. Forgive my intrusion but I couldn't help but notice you folks just pulled up. Did you oversleep and miss the service?"

James adjusted the hair at the back of his head. I tried to contain my laughter. There was an uneasy silence.

"We aren't really religious."

James finally answered nervously, which only prompted an uneasier question.

"Then why do you want little Oliver to be baptized?"

Again there was an awkward silence as the two searched for the least offensive answer.

"Just something we have discussed. We have considered getting back into the faith."

A lie if I had ever heard one, but it would likely speed up the process and I was ready to be out of here.

The preacher unexpectedly turned to me and began to inquire about my presence.

"And what of you my son, what brings you here today?"

I was caught off guard and stumbled over my answer.

"Oh, I...well...I'm..."

Thankfully James had an answer ready.

"He is a close family friend and like an uncle to Oliver. Plus he can't be trusted alone. Like a puppy. Separation anxiety, he destroys the house. Oh yeah and he’s the Godfather.”

The father let out a chuckle.

"Well then, what of your faith son?"

"I lost my faith some time ago."

"Why my child? The tempting of one's faith is merely a test that The Almighty puts all of us through."

I stood from the pew.

"This isn't about me. We are here to talk about getting Oliver baptized so Dinah's family doesn't flip their shit. Now if you will excuse me, I'm going to find someplace quiet to be alone."

The heavy oak door of the chapel slammed with a loud, threatening boom. I felt powerful as I walked away from a man of cloth, I realised, Mystique and his allies have been getting to me in the same way, it made me hate the priest who’d only been trying to help. I turned back towards the church.

“Son of a bitch!”

I yelled aloud as I realised I didn’t even know the name of the priest I didn’t want to leave lying face down on the canvas. There was a shocked gasp from someone on the street when I realised I had just yelled at Jesus, things got worse when I remembered that we were not just at a church, we were at a cathedral, a cathedral dedicated to Jesus's mother. I sat there stewing, thinking of nothing other than how I planned to humiliate Mason Westhoff and D.C.. I was relishing the thought of it.

I put on my sunglasses, it’s four weeks to Kingdom Come, Strikeforce are back, James has half a pack of cigarettes, it’s not dark and I’m wearing sunglasses. Hit it.

 

[Thriller Ant]

We mustn’t lose sight of our goals.

The scene opens with The Grand Mystique standing in a small hotel room, addressing Brother Mason Westhoff and DC. Brother Westhoff sits forward in his chair, hanging on every word, while DC seems to be half listening at best on another chair.

Strikeforce and Jacobs do not trust each other. We must keep it that way. I will take care of Jacobs, but I need the two of you to work together to defeat Strikeforce. Winning heals all wounds, and we cannot allow the wounds that keep Strikeforce and Jacobs apart to heal.

Grand Mystique pauses for a moment, rubbing his head. DC quietly sighs, but not quietly enough as Brother Westhoff shoots him a dirty look.

I know that the two of you aren’t each other’s biggest fan, and I couldn’t care less about that. I shouldn’t have to be here to tell you this, but you two have left me no other choice. What we are doing is much bigger than any of us, singularly or collectively. I need both of you to put your egos aside and at least for one night, be a unit and defeat Strikeforce. Do not fail me.

Grand Mystique falls back onto the bed as Brother Westhoff and DC get up and head for the door. Each man stares at the other, until the head opposite ways down the hallway.

Before they first met, Brother Westhoff knew nothing of DC. The Grand Mystique told him that a former WZCW wrestler would be joining their group, and that’s all he needed to know. Brother Westhoff is, was, and always will be a man of faith. That’s the big difference between him and DC. He has frequently found himself remembering that there is nothing inherently wrong with DC’s lack of faith. What Brother Westhoff didn’t realize is that the more he distrusts and dislikes DC, the more he was losing his faith.

No amount of faith would help him with avoid the laundry cart as he wandered down the halls of the hotel, mind deep in thought. His first instinct was to lash out in anger, but due to a lack of a person to direct it at, Brother Westhoff chose to swallow it and continue walking. As he turns a corner, DC becomes visible down the hall. Brother Westhoff turns and goes the other way with the knowledge that DC was too busy on his cell phone to notice his tag team partner.

Just the sight of DC brought the anger back. Brother Westhoff has always taken pride in his ability to keep calm and avoid anger, but the fact that DC makes him angry just makes him angrier. Brother Westhoff turns the corner and falls up against the wall. How, after all the pushback he had faced in his life, could DC be the one to shake his faith? There was no reason to question The Grand Mystique, except for the man down the hall.

This cannot be what ends me. He may be testing me, but no test has stopped me before. My faith has gotten me this far, and I won’t let DC stop it.

Brother Westhoff stands up and heads toward DC, knowing that for the good of The Sacrificial Altar, he needs to set his pride aside and talk to his tag team partner.

If this partnership is going to fail, I won't let it be on account of a lack of effort from me.

As he approaches the door of The Grand Mystique’s hotel room, running through what he'll say, Brother Westhoff sees the outline of DC heading toward him.

 

[TheRealDC]

-------continues directly from DCs exit from Thriller's RP-------

Bulls****...

DC begins to walk down the hallway, hanging his head down towards the ground. As he walks it seems as if something is tickling the back of his mind. You can tell by the weird expressions on his face.

A small hum radiates from him. He ignores it at first, trying to wish it away. But, after a few more hums he reaches into his pocket. Glancing at the caller screen of his phone Eli Silver, he gets a pissed. Feinting to throw the damn thing down the hallway, he just grasps it tighter in his hand. He slides the tab over to answer the phone after second guessing himself. Rubbing his eyes to relax with his free hand he lifts the phone to his ear.

Yeah?

Suspending reality for a bit here. We can hear both sides of the conversation.

D! Great f***ing news buddy! I finally got ahold of him!

Good. Great. Wonderful...

Well don't be so too damn excited you'll pop a f***ing blood vessel!

It's good to hear man, really. When is he going to get here?

That's the problem, see. He's not exactly the same person you might remember...

Seems to be a theme around here lately...

Yeah... Well... He's got some things going on, but he looks ready to go. Like, I don't know how you two morons can seem to f*** up everything in your lives besides your bodies! It's kind of inspiring.

If I wanted an update on his body Eli, remind me next time to get it from a woman.

B*** me!

With that the conversation ends, DC puts the phone back into his pocket and slumps his back alongside a wall, leaning and resting his head back against it. He shuts his eyes for a few seconds trying to escape the world.

The f*** am I doing here? I'm in a cult? Can you even call it a cult?

The world seems heavy on him, as he slides his back down and rests in a sitting position.

So much for a debut match. Got your ass kicked by a Tai Bo champion. Way to go the extra mile to embarrass yourself...

As he fiddles with something beside him, he ponders the words that GM spoke earlier. The praise he gave Mason. The pride he takes in his cause. The last time DC knew someone like that... well. Another story for a different day. He takes a few more seconds, looking like more of a depressed hobo then anything else (that was for you GM).

Finally, he rises back to his feet. Lazily walking down the hallway back towards the door he came out of. But as he approaches closer towards it, we see the silhouette of Mason Westhoff.

DC! I want to have a word with you...

Golly gee Mason! Are we gonna learn what the secret word of the day is?

I don't have time for games D. We need to be clear with ourselves and with each other. This match, it isn't about working together. It isn't about us having to like each other.

Well hell Mason, I knew you'd eventually come around to me!

Mason seems incredibly irate as DC extends his arms out. Mason shakes his head and sighs deeply. He extends one arm out, but places it on D's shoulder. This catches DC off guard, as he was expecting no sort of reaction other then the sigh he got. He seems confused as Mason glances away, and then locks eyes with DC.

I don't know what The Grand Mystique sees in you. I reserve my doubts in front of him. I respect his wishes. If he believes there is some merit to what you can become then I shall not question him. But, your ego-

AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

DC swats Mason's arm off of him and just outright screams in his face. Totally unprovoked and unnecessary. Mason seems puzzled. Safe to say a lot of people probably would be.

You said the secret word.

Mason, once again, glares at DC in disgust. DC responds to this by spitting on the floor beside him. Glaring back at Mason, his face matching the disgusted look of Mason's.

You think I don't know what this is? You're trying to rile up the soldier so your little war can be won? Well guess what? I don't do the whole "psychological inspiration". I didn't come to this point, to get a lecture from someone like you. I came back for myself. I came back to prove to myself that I still had it. But GM-

You should address him... with respect.

But The Grand Mystique... gave me a different reason. The problem I'm having, is that I'm not too sure how much of it I believe in.

Then embrace it. If you fight these battles within your head and just trust and believe in him, it would be so much easier to understand.

It's not that easy for me...

With those words DC begins to walk away, but Mason cuts him off. Westhoff is not backing down from this. The Sacrificial Alter cannot suffer a loss because of doubt. He knows this, and will do anything to try to make this work. And a shared belief may just do the trick.

If you doubt what you are here for. If you don't believe you can be a part of something far greater, then indulge me.

Indulge you? By doing what exactly? James Howard has already beaten me once in the ring because I wasn't up to my own standards. I wasn't ready. I got laughed out of the building. A WZCW original, coming back and losing his first match. Three times now this happened to me, and twice I've walked out of this company because of it. I don't "fit" this place. I know I can beat James Howard, but it's a distraction to be told how good I SHOULD be, and not living up to that.

DC pauses, curiously glancing at Mason, and managing to crack a smile as he does so. Possibly laughing at his own words. He shakes his head slightly back and forth, stopping as he takes a breath.

But Mikey...

Stormrage is far more fragile then James Howard. I ask you to indulge me by suspending your self righteous path, and help us help you. Your ego-

DC goes to say something yet again but this time, Mason manages to keep his cool. He slowly lifts both hands in front of DC more in a calming manner then a threading way. He knows he may yet get through.

Your ego is a fault, and we can help you with that. The Grand Mystique spoke highly of you before, and with this revelation about being laughed out of buildings and not fitting in... You belong to something far far bigger then petty squabbles within your own mind. Indulge me by allowing this path to take ahold of you. Allow it to flow through you as we face off against Strikeforce.

DC ponders this prospect. The defiance inside of him still stirring as he puts his hands on the back of his head and leans back, sighing as he does this. Mason manages a bit of a smile as DC lowers his hands back to his side, finally locking eyes with Mason once again.

So much for psychological inspiration right? Fine...

DC sticks his finger almost directly in the face of Mason.

I'll try to let this play out. I will try to believe in this. But don't think for a second that I'm going to stop being who I am. I have your back against Strikeforce. We'll see if this s*** is actually worth believing in.

With that DC steps beside Mason, shoulder nudging him out of his path as he walks past him. Mason watches DC as he disappears down the hallway. He nods approvingly, as from behind Mason, The Grand Mystique emerges from the darkness of shadows. The scene fades to total darkness as the two are shown standing beside each other.