Meltdown 115: Eve Taylor/Victor Makarov vs Hard Metal Penetration

[ABMorales787]

​

The terrible tandem of SHIT and Alhazred look to bounce back after their PPV loss but their opponents are no slouches. The former Elite X Champion Victor Makarov teams up with the Eurasian Champion Eve Taylor for tag team action

Deadline: Monday March 16, extensions upon request.

 

[Viola Moonlight]

Eve Taylor stared at the clock above the receptionist's desk, watching as the seconds achingly ticked by ever so slowly. An array of emotions and thoughts surged through her system, creating an inner mental conflict as to why she was even here in the waiting room. Her attempt at distracting herself with the analogue antique failed, just like reading the stack of fashion magazines and browsing her phone. The anxiety held her chest tight but Eve kept a brave face. She didn't want to be here: Eve told herself she'd never step foot inside another modelling agency but considering the invite came from an old echo in her past, she had to break her promise.

Eve gently wiped her eyes, taking in a deep breath as to calm herself down and looked around the room to see the others waiting. She caught a glimpse of two younger girls, aspiring models who were whispering and giggling to each other as they very obviously talked about Eve. They pointed at the Eurasian championship she placed in the set next to hers where one of her handbags would normally sit, teasing her for bringing childish toys to the agency. Eve looked away as the two girls shunned her, reminding Eve of even more past chapters in her life. She tried ignoring them but the giggles resonated through her brain, turning into laughter. Eve began having headspins again, similar to when her championship celebration with her Cerberus team-mates. It was becoming unbearable: Eve needed to get out.

"Eve Taylor. She'll see you now."

The receptionist called out her name as she stood to her feet, looking to exit the agency. Everyone stared at Eve, waiting for her to proceed into the office. Eve wanted to leave but now she had no choice but to continue: she didn't want to embarrass herself in front of the many people in the waiting room. So, Eve leaned down and grabbed her championship, remaining as collected as she can as she got led into the office by the receptionist. Eventually, the receptionist opened the door and invited Eve inside. Cautiously, Eve stepped in and the receptionist quickly closed the door behind.

Eve took in modern furnishings and classic artwork mainly depicting women in extravagant outfits, letting herself go for a second and appreciating the effort put into the room. However, her feel-good high didn't last long as the head agent emerged into sight: a sight Eve couldn't believe.

"Maggie?"

"Eva! It's so good to see you!"

Maggie instantly walked over to Eve and wrapped her arms around her, hugging her. Eve didn't reciprocate, shocked to see what she was told to be true: her former best friend from her modelling days had indeed create her own agency.

"It's been a long time, Eva."

Maggie noticed Eve was feeling slightly uncomfortable, stepping back and fixing up her suit in an attempt to show Eve she was going to be professional. Maggie went to her personal lounge, inviting Eve to sit on the guest chair.

"Over a year."

"Indeed... and what a year it has been for the both of us! I'm running my own place of business, giving those who can't break through into the modelling world a chance & you are a professional wrestling champion! I'd say we'd call it a successful year."

Maggie smiled at Eve but again, Eve didn't show the same courtesy.

"That's one way of describing it..."

Eve took her time sitting down, attempting to get comfortable. Maggie looked directly at Eve, happy to see her friend but slightly worried, unable to pick what is bothering Eve.

"Well... you've probably got a big schedule so I'll keep things brief. As I said, I built this place for talented people who need a helping hand achieving success in the modelling industry. I created this place because of the words you said to me in that hotel of January 2014: you felt discouraged by our industry turning its backs on us. Many models, mostly aspiring, feel the see way. This place is dedicated to your vision and through hard-work & dedication, we are up and running... and well, I wanted to say thank you for giving me the idea."

Taylor stared at Maggie, waiting for her to continue.

"You summoned me here to thank me?"

Maggie raised her index finger, telling Eve to wait. She fiddles around with her briefcase before putting a binder out on the coffee table in-between the two. She opens it up, causing Eve to look at it with intent.

"It's a modelling contract, Eva. It's your modelling contract."

Eve looked up to Maggie to make sure she was serious. Maggie nodded as Eve went back into the contract, flipping through the pages.

"This place was built in your honour and I want to honour you by making you my premier model; the face of our brand. It isn't some ridiculously-low offer either, Eva. It's a proper contract. We're growing in sponsors and endorsements as well as establishing some lucrative deals with the biggest fashion companies. With you, international supermodel turned professional wrestling sensation, we can use your popularity to turn this place into something amazing..."

Maggie continued to sell the point across to Eve but the words became muffled as she completely ignored her friend, staring at the contract. It was extremely tempting to Eve but the emotions she felt in the waiting room began to boil in the pit of her stomach, slowly rising up. She closed the contract and chucked it across the coffee table, shutting Maggie up.

"Over a year ago, I told you of my decision to become a professional wrestler and you warned me it would be too dangerous for the likes of me."

Eve picked up her championship, placing it on the table.

"Yet, for some reason, I managed to become the first-ever female competitor to hold a singles championship. No partners, no help... I won this title all by myself through real hard-work and dedication, unlike you."

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't interrupt me, Maggie."

Eve darted a nasty look towards Maggie who is confused at the situation but abides by Eve's wishes.

"I did this by myself. All by myself... which means you were nowhere to be seen. Over a year ago, in that same room, I told you to visit me any time and until today, you never bothered to get into contact with me. You couldn't care less about your supposed best friend until the day I became a hot commodity among social media and created more buzz than any model in the fashion world. You invite me here to show off your fancy agency and offer me a contract because it will benefit you?"

Eve shaked her head.

"Where were you when I really need you, Maggie? Huh? I had to struggle by myself in the harsh environment and you didn't even do so much as to send me a Facebook message."

"I don't understand-"

"Of course you don't!"

Taylor stood up, unable to remain seated in her state. Maggie tried to calm down, getting close to put an hand on her shoulder.

"Don't touch me you selfish bitch!"

Eve swatted Maggie's hand away, looking to hurt somebody. Maggie took a step back in disbelief.

"I didn't come here to appease you and catch up like old times, Maggie. I had half a mind to leave many times before I came in here. The only reason you and I are in the same room is because I needed to remove another past chapter of my life if I want to succeed moving forward. I've got an intense battle coming up against sworn enemies of my Cerberus brethren and I have to team up with an intimidating Russian competitor all the while keeping an eye open for a nerdy role-player who is getting in my business and possibly gunning for my championship... I don't need a past chapter I thought was dead haunting me."

Maggie was speechless as Eve took a moment to collect her thoughts.

"Whatever friendship you thought we had Maggie, it's dead and gone. I'm ending this before I become used and abused just like what happened with me when I thought I found my best friend to replace the hole in my heart you created. I got rid of Aubrey Sloan and now I'm getting rid of you, Maggie... you and this shameless contract to enter an industry that only wants me for my popularity. I'm better than that."

Eve puts her championship around her shoulder.

"Goodbye forever Maggie. Don't contact me again."

Taylor walks out of the office, leaving her former best friend Maggie dumbfounded by the events that just occurred, sitting back into her couch to think about it all.

-----------------------------------------

Eve walks back into the waiting room, walking tall and confident as she walks past the two aspiring models who were still giggling and pointing at Eve. Instead of ignoring them, Eve stops in her tracks and turns to the two girls. She slaps one across the face as hard as she can and grabs the other by the hair, almost ripping it from her head. Everyone in the waiting room gasps, shocked by what they are seeing. Eve looks directly at the girl.

"You will never make it in this business. You are unattractive, you have no sense of fashion and above all else, you have no redeeming qualities. You have no right to make fun of the greatest supermodel in the world and the Third Head of Cerberus. If you have any doubts about what I said, I suggest you tune into the beating I'm going to give Hard Metal Penetration on Meltdown."

Befores security. can restrain Eve, she shoves the aspiring model back into her seat and leaves the premises feeling confident, like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She exited the building with a wicked smile across her face... almost as if she had enjoyed the experience.

 

[Dave]

Meltdown 113

Backstage we find Victor Makarov and Frankie Fortune right after the former's match.

Fortune: Stay here.

Makarov obeys, grabbing a nearby towel to wipe the sweat from his face. When he finishes, he stares straight ahead with a stunned look on his face. The camera pans and shows Fortune standing next to a massive man that dwarfs Victor by about half a foot.

Fortune: Come on, guys. We have some catching up to do.

The three men walk away as the scene fades out.

* * *​

Previously...​

I remember nursing my black eye the day after Victor first laid his hands on me. Did it hurt? You're damn right it did. But it wasn't the last time that Victor attacked me, and even as I sat there is a some frozen carrots on my face, I knew that I had overstepped the mark. Victor had always been a closed book up until that point, I have no idea why I started to probe the whole situation, nothing good could have come from it. Or so I thought, at that point.

But I knew that I had to make things better. Even with the pain in my face, I knew that this was a problem. The Russian had stormed out of the small apartment immediately after the postcard incident and I guess that was for the best. Honestly, even after he had rattled my face and my brain, I don't think he could even look at me any more. Everything that we had worked towards and the progression that I thought or relationship had achieved was for nothing then.

There had to be something I could do, right?

And then it hit me. “The Russians!”

Yeah, the Russians that had dropped off Victor like UPS delivering a parcel; surely they must have an idea of what was going on, right? Surely they would know something about the root of this postcard and the situation behind it. But how do I make contact with people on the other side of the world? When they had brought Victor to me, they had did all of the legwork; I was just in the right place at the right time, I guess. “There must be something” I had thought. Surely?

A phone number, a name.... Something! It didn't matter. I had to find something that could put me on the right track. Because I'll say this right now and I still mean it to this day, if I didn't find the cause of this 'problem' with the Russian, then I wouldn't be sitting here right now telling this story. Yeah, things had gotten off to a rocky start and, sure, I ended up sitting with frozen vegetables attached to my face. But things had been good. I had gotten more money than I had ever seen working a career with Hollywood's most underrated. But more importantly, The risk I had taken with The Russian had been for absolutely nothing. With The Russian leaving the apartment, so left my cash cow.

The next day or so consisted of me searching for details of Victor's secret correspondent. And it wasn't easy in the slightest. I remember going through all of the files from when I first heard of Victor. Those same files that had dropped on my desk all of those months ago when I was barely making enough money to feed myself. But nothing! Not even so much as a name or a telephone number that I could put together. I remember thinking to myself that everything was over. WZCW, Victor and I; it was done. A week before Meltdown 115, I remember sitting on the armchair in my tiny apartment. The black eye was disappearing but the tension in the apartment was getting worse if anything. Victor had made it clear that he had no interest in me joining him at training or press conferences. He was the Elite X Champion at this point, and since he couldn't talk, I often wondered how hilarious those press conferences would have been. He left the house around 1 in the afternoon after getting up and getting showered, looking through me whenever our eyes had the displeasure of meeting briefly.

As soon as he left the house, I began searching again. I had to find something to get Victor and I over this; I knew it. I went through everything I ever got from The Russians. Every file, every piece of paper; calling every number that I could think of including the Russian Sports Ministry and nothing was coming up Freddie that day. I remember sinking onto the bed after about an hour of searching, almost disappearing into the hole that Victor had created on my bed since he commandeered it. My hopes were exhausted and my interest was waning. Then and there, I honestly was coming to terms with Victor leaving and the whole run in WZCW going to pot. I twisted my head to the left and noticed something... Something and nothing at the same time. A tiny piece of paper with little more than a few numbers scribbled on it. Victor had been making himself scarce in the last few days, could it be that he was calling this mystery sender? He coudn't talk at all, so it seemed unlikely. It wasn't much but at least it was something.

I found my mobile phone and typed the number into it. In all honesty, I wasn't even expecting it to ring but it did. For the longest time it rang out. That was until a harsh tone came across the line, “Zdravstvuyte...”. I still remember that first word. I don't think I'll ever forget it.

“Uh, hello. This is Freddie Fortune. I didn't even know if you know me or not. But I need your help. You sound Russian, maybe you can help me. It's about Victor... He's not good at all. Whoever this is, if you know those Mafia guys, you need to get them to fix this.” I know it wasn't articulate or even sensible but I still remember the crazy words that tumbled out of my mouth. Really, it was a miracle that they could get past my heart; it was lodged in my throat the entire time. It only took Victor to come back into the apartment and another black eye was waiting for me.

“My budem na svyazi.” Click, the phone call was over and I was no further forward. I tried to phone the number back a few times that day, and even more over the course of the next week or so. But it was to no avail. The Russians wanted nothing to do with Victor and I, if that was who I even phoning in the first place. So much on the line and no way of securing it' I was lost.

Victor had not been in the right place to defend the Elite X Championship at Meltdown 114. And looking back on it now, I think I knew that he was going to lose. Kagura was a great competitor, her legacy speaks for itself. That Elite X Championship was her first in the company and she had deserved it. But if those Russians had gotten back to me even a few hours earlier, I don't think that she would have been calling herself a Champion at that point. A distracted Victor is no Victor at all. And had that postcard not have slipped out of his tights, who knows how long that initial Championship run could have gone on for.

I remember travelling to the arena for Meltdown on the Saturday morning, Victor choosing to sit in the back of the mini so as to not be too close to me. I don't know why but that hurt me. And when we got there, he grabbed his stuff and left me to park the car. That whole day, he showed no interest of even looking at me. He kept the Championship close to him but he knew as much as I did that his mind was elsewhere. We sat in silence in the locker room for most of the day as the hours passed. I remember him standing up to leave the locker room when he got his 5 minute warning and all I wanted to do was stop him in his tracks and tell him that everything would be okay, regardless of the result. But I honestly didn't know if that was the case. And as he left, I recall him turning to me and giving me a look of disappointment that rocked me to my core. I think it was then that I accepted that he was going to lose that Championship...

But it was also then that my phone started to ring. An unknown number on the screen; I think my heart almost burst from my chest. “Outside. Now!” Those were the two words that were muttered to me that night. And as much as I wanted to let my nerve get the better of me, I knew I had to check it out. The Spetsnaz could have been waiting for me behind a Ford Mustang in the parking lot for all I knew. But what choice did I have? I walked into the car park, my legs trembling and my heart beating so fast I swear I could feel it. And there, in the middle of the car park was a monster of a man. I could tell that he was Russian from the look of him. Flanked by a burly woman in a grey suit, the second Russian had the look of a soldier; his hands behind his back and his back completely straight. Just what had I gotten myself into... Again.

 

[Miko]

The last show hadn't gone too well for Hard Metal Penetration. After seemingly earning the trust of John Constantine he had turned on them at the last, leaving them to the Hounds. Only Alhazreds intervention with a steel chair had saved them, and the timely arrival of Theron Daggershield, he of the huge sword. Hounds, sword wielding hero's, politicians, mad scientists, and in the middle of it all, the War Machine.

As is often the case, things have become complicated in this world that it inhabits, and when things get complicated, it was best to go simple in retaliation. Simple. Annihilate everyone that stands against you. That would be Cerberus, that would be Victor Makarov, that would be John Constantine, not yet would it be Theron Daggershield, but it was early days, plenty of time to make more enemies where they could make friends, and Theron looked like an interesting challenge.

S.H.I.T had barely spoken to Alhazred for days since the event, he seemed incensed at Constantine's betrayal and annoyed by the altercations of others crossing into Hard Metal Penetrations crusade on Cerberus. S.H.I.T perhaps had a better grasp of patience, but only because frustration was an entirely alien concept, Cerberus' time would come, even rabid dogs can have their day, but the cold certainty of the future was unstoppable.

This future however contained a new element, Makarov and Taylor, the unflinching Russian and the, well, what Alhazred would refer to her as... Beating them would accomplish, something, a message to Cerberus perhaps? S.H.I.T wasn't quite certain what it would accomplish, and when it dealt with uncertainty it tended to simply ignore it. Or react with violence. It was after all, a War Machine. It had a long history in WZCW, and often dealt in uncertainty, when other competitors got it into their heads to hate it for whatever reason, S.H.I.T was never sure how it should react, so it would just respond with violence in kind, with threats where necessary. Anger was a Human emotion, and Alhazred appeared to have enough anger for both of them. S.H.I.T's philosophy was more simple, tap or snap, submit or be destroyed!

Of course, while hatred for others might just be beyond its comprehension, S.H.I.T had a certain, what can only be described as "pride" in its work. So when a jumped up glorified male model, with a squishy water retention generously referred to as muscle ambushes it from behind and then preaches "dominance", it was hard to take that lying down. The hallucinating wannabe poet was an irritating distraction as well. This is where S.H.I.T's patience would come in handy, it could wait to get its hands on the pair, something Alhazred struggled with, muttering something about a time machine. When it did get its hands on the pair, Flex would find out how difficult it is to pose with both arms out of joint, Ramparte how difficult to spout pseudo-intellectuallism with a dislocated jaw.

They had interfered in its matches. They had attacked S.H.I.T in order to hospitalise other competitors right in front of it. And they would accuse the Machine and Alhazred of interfering in their business?

S.H.I.T certainly could wait to get its hand on them. In the meantime Alhazred would make music with their ally Eve Taylor, S.H.I.T would perform a symphony with Victor Makarov.

Machines by nature have no imagination, they cannot create things of beauty. However, when their time comes they all would learn that destruction itself was the greatest art of all.

And S.H.I.T is the fucking master!

A shocked Alhazred turns around from his expirement. "Err, what?"

Oh. Nothing. How is the time machine coming along?

"Yeah, uhh, not bad." He indicates the large machine he had been working on, with lots of flashy LED lights that apparently serve no purpose at all.

They paused for a long while.

Do you think you could perhaps put some pants on before we destroy Eve Taylor and Victor Makarov?

Alhazred shrugged. "Maybe."

 

[red ass skull muhfukkah]

A young teenage Alhazred is walking down the halls of his High School, he's wearing green corduroy high waters and a Spock baseball tee. He's reading A Brief History of Time as he walks, paying no attention to the people around him.

A pretty blonde cheerleader and a large, hulking football player are standing near their lockers, talking. The guy points at Alhazred, the girl looks at him and laughs. As he walks by the jock trips him. Alhazred's face smacks onto the floor and the pen in his pocket explodes. As he gets up everyone notices his pants are all wet in his groin area. Everyone in the hall points and laughs at him.

Jock: Little wimp pissed his pants.

Cheerleader: That's disgusting...

Alhazred used to this kind of degradation shrugs it off and goes to pick up his book. The jock steps on his hand and grabs the book.

Jock: Isn't the guy who wrote this ******ed and in a wheel chair? Makes sense because you're ******ed and I'm gonna put you in a wheel chair.

The Jock spits in the book, rips it in half and throws it Alhazred.

Alhazred looks at the pieces and his fists clench. He's tired of this, tired of being mocked by this moronic caveman alpha male puffing his chest to impress a girl who he'll probably just date rape at a party, impregnate and raise idiotic children. The cycle will continue as it always done. The weak get the beatings the strong get the glory. Day after day, year after year this is how it's always been. For Alhazred and for everyone since man first walked upright.

Not today, today will be different. Today the weak will stand up and destroy the strong and the beautiful. Today he'll do what's right and stand up for himself and all those who came before him.

Alhazred screams at the top of his lungs and swings at the jock. He knocks him clean in the nose and staggers him into the cheerleader, spilling her coffee onto her shirt. The jock wipes the blood from his nose and starts wailing on Alhazred. He gets him to the ground and punches him non stop.

Two teachers pull the jock of Alhazred and another helps Alhazred up. Face covered in blood and barely able to stand Alhazred has a giant grin across his face.

Cheerleader: What are you laughing at? You just got your ass kicked.

Alhazred smiles, mouth full of blood: I made him bleed and you wet.

He blows her a kiss as the teachers pull him away.

--------------------------------------------

Alhazred: I MADE HIM BLEED AND HER WET!

He looks around his lab as if he just plopped here out of nowhere. He shakes his head and goes back to working on a large machine with lots of LED lights. He works furiously and fast, almost as if he has no idea what he's doing. He begins talking aloud softly.

Alhazred: I'll make him bleed and her wet. They'll get what's coming to them. Big and tough Cerberus is when the odds are in their favor, but they cower away when I even the odds with a steel chair. Constantine is no concern to me. He did what he had to do to protect himself. I would have done the same at one time. Putting himself above others is the only way he can succeed. Selfishness and raising his nose to others is how he got to the top. But he'll fail like always does and trickle back to down to obscurity.

He bangs his chest.

Alhazred: But not us, not Hard Metal Penetration. You kick us down and we get right back up. We don't mind a little pain, a little violence. It's what we do, it's what we crave. I'm trying to be a good person these days but everyone's aloud a little vice here and there. Mine will be the sweet destruction of Cerberus. The dogs pick their spot and attack when the moment arises. We won't give them a moment. We will be everywhere they are, no plans no picking spots. Just health insurance plans and picking up blood spots. I'm trying to be a good guy, set an example. I'm trying really hard, but every time I think of them I picture S.H.I.T. and I repeatedly bashing their skulls with chairs, throwing their bodies into tables covered in thumbtacks and flames. I picture my Powerglove shoved into Ramparte's throat, his poems and rhetoric won't be heard when he's suffocating to death. I picture S.H.I.T.'s arms pulling and pulling at Flex, those big muscles doing absolutely nothing against the strength of pure hatred and blood lust.

He stands up and paces.

Alhazred: I'm trying to be good, but there's so many bad things I want to do to Eve. Horrible, disgusting things. Not in that way, no not in that way. She is not beautiful to me. She is a hideous and grotesque beast. Most men see her face and want to kiss it. I see her face and I want to smash it into the ring post. Yeah, that's what I'll do, that is what I will do. Smash, smash, smash right into the ring post. That'll show her, that'll show Cerberus, that will show the cheerleader and the jock.

??: What about Victor?

Alhazred: Victor? That imbecilic mongloid with no tongue. A man of brute strength and power. Well S.H.I.T. is no man, he's a machine of strength and power. He has no soul, no will, no feelings. Victor is a silent beast bent on destruction, but he's human and mortal. S.H.I.T. is an inhuman monster whose one and only purpose is to rip people's limbs off and shove them up their ass. Tap or snap, submit or be destroyed. Hopefully all of those. Just like Cerberus, just like the jock. He will bleed.

HE WILL BLEED!

S.H.I.T.: And S.H.I.T is the fucking master!