Ultimate Online Wrestling CH-11: Friday Night Clash 7!

in #fiction4 years ago (edited)

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Ultimate Online Wrestling is a collaborative and competitive creative writing role-playing game where users join and create wrestler characters in an alternate world where wrestling is real. Writers earn Hive Tokens for contributing to the story by writing roleplay's for their characters who are booked in matches once a month.

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Sato sat dressed in orange jumpsuit eating his prison slop in a crowded cafeteria surrounded by some of the most dangerous men in America. It has been seven days since his and Abbigail Dresden’s incarceration had been dealt out by a corrupt judge in Texas. He hadn’t seen his tag team partner since the court hearing and wondered how she was fairing on the Women’s side of the complex. Livingston Texas penitentiary was no joke, most of the people being held there had committed serious crimes and were serving extended sentences. Sato knew that it was unusual for Abbigail and he had been sent there as first-time offenders. McStrump had gone too long lengths to put them in an uncomfortable and dangerous position before their mission in North Korea.

Sato couldn’t understand why the powerful men in his life were going out of their way to make his life such a living hell. Sure he had been outspoken against their racist ideology and supported liberal progressive causes, but framing him and Dresden for illicit drug distribution seemed extreme. Perhaps McStrump and Mudcock viewed him as a political threat like Valora Salinas. What bothered him the most was that he couldn’t figure out how Dr. Summeroff fit into the whole puzzle? Sato’s inner thoughts were interrupted by a strange-looking man with a white head of hair and a white beard. The rather large old man had sat in front of him with no food and had begun uncomfortably staring right at Sato.

Takuma: What do you want old man?

Old Man: The name is Niklolia comrade. I was asked by Ares Metaxas to let you know that we have your back while you’re here. You’re in more danger than you think friend. The powers that be know that we made contact with you to enlist you into our ranks. They have people in here too and they are out to kill you.

Takuma: Metaxas? That nut job from the Old Rasputin bar?

Nikolia: Ares is a great man, don’t be fooled by his rough exterior. He fights for the underclass, the forgotten cast of society, and the people who are struggling just to put food on the table for their families. The world as we know it is clinging to life support, my friend. The entire system is running on borrowed money and limited time. The rich refuse to pay the bill your politicians have created with poor policy. They’re attempting to force the rest of society to pay for it, but it’s just not possible, and it will lead to chaos sooner then they think.

Takuma Sato: So? What do you want me to do about it?

Nikolia: Join us. Fight for a cause worth championing! Look at what these elitist bastards have done to you just for getting in the way of their insane agenda! Mudcock despises you and your manager for forcing him to provide healthcare to the Ultimate Wrestling roster. McStrump dislikes your tone on immigration and race relations. So what do they do? They framed you and have you thrown in jail comrade! I’ve even heard they plan to send you on some sort of North Korean suicide mission!

Takuma Sato: Well…yeah actually. I guess they're hoping to kill two birds with one stone. Get rid of Valora and me and The Emperor of North Korea while they are at it.

Nikolia: Join us, Sato. The Rebels of Society are fighting back. We are on the same side here comrade!

Sato nodded and a split second later the rosy-cheeked rotund man screamed for him to lookout. Sato sensed an attacker behind him and turned around just in time to intercept the hand of a man with Nazi tattoos wielding a shank. Sato instantly broke his wrist forcing him to drop the weapon while the rest of the inmates looked on. Almost instantly a cafeteria wide brawl broke out between members allied with the Rebels of Society and the Nazi gang that had attempted to murder Sato in cold blood.

Chaos, violence, broken bones, and screams filled the room as a prison riot control team rushed into the room wielding heavy shields and high tech batons capable of discharging a very nasty shock to insubordinate inmates. As Sato watched the insanity unfold he realized he had been sucked into a very complicated world and that his life would most likely never be the same again. The Rebel’s had saved his life and even if they were not perfect it looked as if they were fighting for the same thing’s he cared about. Time would tell if it would be a decision that would haunt him. After a good ten minutes, the brawl was over and both sides had been badly beaten by their oppressors. Soon Sato was back in his cell awaiting his transport to the airport where he would be flown to the Far East against his will.

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The streaming feed goes live as the cameras begin broadcasting the live presentation of Friday Night Clash 7 from Atlanta Georgia. “Stranglehold” by Ted Nugent begins to play over the Omni Coliseum’s speakers firing up the fans as they realize the show is now finally underway. Most of them begin thrusting their homemade signs into the air hoping that the cameras will capture a glimpse of them. Most of the signs are for the home town hero “Huckleberry” who made his unorthodox debut last week fighting a giant alligator. However, the cameras spot the few sporadic “Free Sato and Dresden” signs and the occasional “Praise Blob” sign scattered about the arena. After a few moments of panning through the crowd, the cameras cut to Chris Rodgers and Scott Slade at ringside who are ready to start the show.

Scott Slade: Hello ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to another edition of Friday Night Clash! We have an impressive slate of contests in store for you tonight!

Chris Rodgers: The Gator killer himself, HUCKLEBERRY! Takes on DAVEY! BOY! O'Brien! In what should be one of the best opening matches we’ve had on this show since its start!

Scott Slade: Without a doubt Chris! Then we follow up with a huge grudge match between the former tag team of Jeremiah Vastrix and Brother Abishag from the Cult of the Blob!

Chris Rodgers: Worth the price of admission alone!

Scott Slade: Then probably the most confusing match of the night, our main event! Walter Reagan, President Rupert Mudcock's very own bodyguard takes on Kronin and Valora in a handicap match all by himself!

Chris Rodgers: I don’t get this! Something strange is going on here! It’s the man’s first match of his career! Why would President Mudcock put him in a match like this? It makes no sense! No sense at all!

Scott Slade: One thing I’ve learned while doing this job is that Rupert always has a plan and an agenda. All we can do is sit here and wait for it to play out. Just look at what happened last week! Dresden and Sato charged with an erroneous drug possession!

Chris Rodgers: I’ve been telling you for months now that Sato is a no-good socialist hippie!

Scott Slade: Oh please! That looked like the biggest frame job I’ve ever seen and you know it! There is something weird going on in Ultimate Wrestling! I mean President McStrump was here last week. It doesn’t get any crazier than that. Fans it looks like I’m being given the signal that we are officially about to kick things off here!

Chris Rodgers: It’s about time! Now take off your tinfoil hat because the time for your lame conspiracy theories is over! It’s time for some heart-stopping wrestling action!

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Suddenly Hillbilly Deluxe, by Brooks & Dunn starts to play over the sound system and the fans quickly perk up and turn their attention to the main stage as Huckleberry walks out to a big pop from his home crowd. Huckleberry has a new wrestling attire designed by the Ultimate Wrestling wardrobe division. A red and white get-up with flamboyant flame decals added at his request.

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Rich Relando: FROM DUBLIN, GEORGIA! WEIGHING IN AT 145 POUNDS AND STANDING AT FIVE FEET, TEN INCHES! THE ONE AND ONLY HUCKLEBERRY!!!

Huckleberry makes his way down the ramp and begins slapping high fives with all the fans in the aisle way. He then slides into the ring and begins getting ready for his opponent. "Baker Street" by Gerry Rafferty begins to play and the Georgian fans boo Davey O’Brien much to his surprise as he steps out onto the main stage. It’s clear that the Scottish fan favorite isn’t used to this type of abuse from wrestling fans, but he tries to shake it off as he makes his way down the ramp absorbing insults from the very one-sided southern crowd.

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Scott Slade: Good lord! The Georgian fans are 100% behind their native son Huckleberry here tonight!

Chris Rodgers: He might be dumber than a box of rocks, but these people know a good American boy when they see one!

Scott Slade: Davey is going to have to try to block this out and concentrate on the match at hand.

Davey climbs up the steel steps and then enters the ring. Referee Bob Sigro calls forth both combatants to the center of the ring and gives them a few words before signaling for the bellman to sound the start of the match. The bell is rung and Davey O’Brien extends his hand in a gesture of good sportsmanship to try and show the fans he’s a good sport. Huckleberry stares at his hand for a few seconds and then reaches out and grabs it. The fans boo while they shake, until Huckleberry yanks the Scot in close to his body, and clotheslines him dropping the young European superstar to the ring mat hard.

Scott Slade: Oooh!

Chris Rodgers: Ha! Maybe he isn’t as dumb as I thought!

Scott Slade: Listen to this crowd! They love it!

The fans roar as Huckleberry goes to town stomping and kicking O’Brien as he struggles to get to his feet. The Huckster then grabs O’Brien by the head and tosses Davey into the ring ropes. O’Brien bounces off of them and Huckleberry attempts another clothesline but misses as the little Scot ducks under his right arm. O’Brien then bounces off the ropes again on the opposite side of the ring and hits a dropkick that knocks the native Georgian to the mat much to the dismay of the fans.

Scott Slade: This really looks like it’s going to be an even match up.

Chris Rodgers: Huckleberry needs to keep his awareness up. This little Scotsmen has been known to come at opponents with moves you’d never expect!

Both men get back to their feet at around the same time and begin exchanging blows until Huckleberry kicks Davey in the gut and then locks his head around his arm. The hillbilly executes an impressive DDT and drives the Scotsmen’s head into the mat. The fans let out a roar as the Huckster covers Davey and hooks his leg in the process.

Scott Slade: DDT! The cover by Huckleberry! Referee Bob Sigro on the mat for the count! ONE! TWO! KICKOUT!

Chris Rodgers: Too soon! The little runt’s still got a lot of fight left in him!

Huckleberry argues with the referee, screaming at him while holding up three fingers. O’Brien uses the opportunity to get back up on his feet with the help of the ring ropes. Huckleberry turns his attention back to his opponent and the two begin to circle one another sizing each other up. The two then meet in the center of the ring grappling in a test of strength. Huckleberry pushes O’Brien into the corner of the ring and then begins slapping him in the chest with some sharp knife edge chops. The winded O’Brien slouches back into the turnbuckle and Huckleberry puts his arms up in celebration showboating to the fans. Suddenly without warning, Davey springs out of the corner and nails Huckleberry with a vicious head-butt that takes the Appalachian clean off his feet and onto the mat.

Scott Slade: Oh! What a shot!

Chris Rodgers: Now that’s what I call using the old noggin!

O’Brien backs up into the corner and lifts himself up onto the second turnbuckle and springboards off of it and drives a stunning elbow into the face of Huckleberry. The blow sends the Huckster into a spat as he covers his face in pain while kicking and screaming on the mat. O’Brien is quick to make a cover and referee Bob Sigro doesn’t miss a beat as he dives to the mat for the count once again.

Chris Rodgers: Come on you crazy hillbilly! Don’t let this foreigner show you up now!

Scott Slade: Cover by Davey! ONE! TWO! KICK OUT BY HUCKLEBERRY!

Chris Rodgers: Atta boy!

Huckleberry rolls away from Davey and gets to his feet and the two begin slugging it out once again with closed fists this time. The crowd erupts from the impact of the punches and then jumps to their feet as Davey’s haymaker misses its mark and Huckleberry moves in and rock bottom slams O’Brien into the mat. The little Appalachian jumps to his feet and starts to do a hog call toward the fans. The Georgian fans than in return start hog calling back at the hillbilly in a bizarre scene. Huckleberry then picks up Davey and begins spinning him around in a fireman’s carry and then finishes the maneuver with an Alabama Slam that sends the southern crowd into a frenzy.

Scott Slade: My god what a move!

Chris Rodgers: These fans are going HOG WILD!

Scott Slade: Huckleberry with a cover! ONE! TWO! NO! NO! Davey O’Brien kicks out again!

Chris Rodgers: What’s it going to take to put this kid away?

Scott Slade: He’s digging down deep! He wants this win! He’s not giving up!

The Huckster once again starts arguing with referee Bob Sigro over the speed of the count. O’Brien shakes off the cobwebs and gets to his feet. He then moves in behind Huckleberry and rolls him up into a cradle pin much to the surprise of everyone.

Scott Slade: O’Brien with a quick pin on a distracted Huckleberry! ONE! No! Quick kick out by the Huckster!

Both men get up at the same time but the frazzled Huckleberry ends up on the receiving end of three consecutive European uppercuts from Davey who caps off his impressive flurry with a discus forearm shot that turns the Hillbilly sideways and then causes him to collapse in a somewhat comedic way to the ring mat. The fans erupt in a hateful manner booing and chanting “Go Back Home” at Davey O’Brien. O’Brien ignores the fans and heads for the turnbuckle. A few seconds later the Scott is standing on the top rope ready for a high impact maneuver. Davey leaps off of the top rope and drives a flying elbow deep into the chest of Huckleberry and then covers him for a pin.

Chris Rodgers: No!

Scott Slade: High risk flying elbow drop! There is a cover! ONE! TWO! NO! NO! Huckleberry kick’s out again! Unbelievable!

Chris Rodgers: What a match!

Davey gets to his feet frustrated and drags Huckleberry up by his head to execute another move. Davey’s momentum though is broken by a desperate Huckleberry who eye rakes him in the face causing Davey to stumble back up against the ropes. Referee Bob Sigro yells at the Huckster and warns him that he won’t tolerate that kind of behavior. Huckberry ignores him however and then sprints towards Davey and clotheslines him up over the top rope and onto the floor. The Scot smacks his head on the floor hard knocking him unconscious in the process.

Scott Slade: Oh! Did you see that! O’Brien’s head just bounced off the floor like damn basketball!

Chris Rodgers: Put a fork in him! He’s done! He isn’t getting back up from that! Not after the last concussion, he suffered at the hands of Abishag and Cult of the Blob!

The fans erupt and begin chanting “Huckleberry” while Referee Bob Sigro counts to ten. After a short ten count, Sigro calls for the bell and Huckleberry is declared the winner by knockout.

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Scott Slade: I can’t believe it! Huckleberry wins his second match here in Ultimate Wrestling and he still hasn’t even pinned anyone!

Chris Rodgers: I have a feeling this isn’t the last time will see these two in the ring against one another.

Scott Slade: Fans we have to cut for a quick commercial break from our sponsor, but when we come back we have more wrestling action coming your way!

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The feed returns live with the cameras focus in the ring where Rich Relando stands with a custom bedazzled microphone in his right hand. As always the veteran ring announcer is dressed in a white suit and wearing matching white leather shoes. His bowtie and socks are crimson and his look is finished with an old school white fedora hat.

Rich Relando: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! TONIGHT WE HAVE THE HONOR OF WATCHING THE FORMER TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS BATTLE IT OUT IN A NO HOLDS BARRED, NO COUNT OUT, AND NO DISQUALIFICATIONS MATCH! BOTH FIGHTERS WILL FINALLY PROVE WHO THE BETTER MAN IS! SO I ASK YOU THIS! ARE YOU READY? I SAID! ARE! YOU! REEEAAAADDDDY! TOOOO RUUUMMMMBLEEE!

The fans let out a giant roar as “A Greater Call” by The Cult of Luna begins to play over the arena’s sound system speakers. An eerie vibe engulfs the atmosphere of the stadium as the lights dim and Brother Abishag walks out with The Order of The Blob behind him. In tow are his brothers Buzi and Abaddon dressed in their customary monkish aquatic robes. Brother Buzi’s life like a Lovecraftian aquatic appearance frightens a row of young children into tears as he passes by them. Abaddon can’t help but smile a ghostly smile at their parents trying to console them from their nightmarish appearance.

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Chris Rodgers: Here they are! The strangest group of men I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing. What President McStrump and Mr. Mudcock see in them is beyond me! I don’t mean to put my tin foil hat on and pardon the pun, but something smells fishy to me!

Scott Slade: Fishy? Ha! I think that might be the funniest thing I’ve ever heard you say, old man!

Chris Rodgers: What can I say? This crotchety old man still has it! Seriously though, Mr. Mudcock was fighting a one-man war against this Chilean Blob cult. Now he’s in bed with them? Something is very wrong here!

The cult makes its way down the aisle ignoring the rest of the fans. As the music picks up, Abishag reaches the steel steps and ascends up to the ring mat. He then high steps over the top rope and confidently enters the ring. The lights go back to full power and the Cult’s music cut’s out. Abishag disrobes and begins bickering with referee Bob Sigro when suddenly “Down Low” by R. Kelly begins to play.

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Jeremiah walks out onto the stage wearing his metallic mask and holding a microphone in his hand. He stops at the edge of the stage. The fans stare at his bloodied bandages wrapped around his head and tucked underneath his mask. He’s still unhealed from the beating he took at the tiny yet powerful hands of President McStrump.

Jeremiah: CUT MY MUSIC!

The music stops as Abishag and the rest of the cult turn their attention toward the man formerly known as “God’s gift to women” now a hideous machine man wrapped like a mummy.

Chris Rodgers: Oh what the hell is all this about! Just get in the damn ring and solve your problems with some good old fashioned violence! No one wants to hear you cry about your problems you damn cyborg!

Scott Slade: You’d think a man whose half computer would be more logical than emotional, but it looks like Jeremiah’s got something on his mind, Chris!

Jeremiah: For months now I’ve been jerked around by outside forces controlling my life! First, it was my father trying to kill me! Then Rupert Mudcock forced me to push his fucked up racist white America agenda! Then it was your Cult and Dr. Summeroff blackmailing me into being your tag team partner and spreading that disgusting religion upon the masses! It all ends tonight! You hear me Abishag? I don’t care if you bring every acolyte from the compound here to face me! Tonight it ends!

Jeremiah slams the Microphone down on the steel stage structure and marches down the ramp having successfully riled up Abishag. The fans boo him on his way down unhappy about his comments about Mr. Mudcock. Jeremiah is cut off from the ring however by Buzi and Abaddon who immediately go after him and begin exchanging blows in a two and on one scuffle.

Scott Slade: This doesn’t look good for Jeremiah. With these match rules and the Cult at ringside, it’s basically a 3 on 1 handicap match.

Chris Rodgers: Jeremiah has been on a disaster course since he got here. Also, he definitely knows how to take a beating. I don’t know how he keeps getting back up and back in the ring every week. The man is insane! If he keeps this up he’ll be more machine than human.

Scott Slade: From that rant we just heard, it doesn’t sound like he’s had a whole lot of choice.

Jeremiah quickly falls prey to them after a series of vicious shots to his mid-body. The cult members toss the masked fighter into the ring like a rag doll toward their leader. Jeremiah comes to rest beneath Abishag’s feet. Abishag stares down at him with a disgruntled look and then turns and starts to curse at Sigro to sound the bell to signify the official start of the match. Sigro, intimidated by Abishag signals for the bell and the timekeeper rings it kicking off the fight. Abishag then wastes no time and begins stomping on Jeremiah before picking him up and tossing him into the turnbuckle. He then extends his leg upward and places his big boot across the throat of Jeremiah while using his large hands on the ropes for leverage.

Chris Rodgers: Look at Vastrix squirm! Man, I wouldn’t want to be him right now!

Scott Slade: Abishag looks as if he been waiting for this moment for weeks!

Abishag releases the pressure and takes his large size 16 boot off of Jeremiah’s windpipe and he collapses to the mat gasping for air. Abishag runs up to where Jeremiah is lying on the mat and goes for a high knee drop, but the masked fighter rolls out of the way at the last second which causes Abishag to come down hard on his right knee. Vastrix is up on his feet quickly knowing full well he has to take advantage of any mistakes made by his powerful adversary. He kicks Abishag with Savat kick to the chest and then rips a page from Sato’s arsenal and hits him with carbon copy spinning back heel kick to his face.

Chris Rodgers: Haven’t seen that cybernetic droid pull off a move like that since he fought Sato!

Scott Slade: It appears he may have been storing his favorite copied moves on a flash drive of some sort built into the cybernetic portion of his brain. He’s incredible work of science honestly. I had no idea cybernetics had advanced so much in the last few years. Still seems like a waste of the tech using it for wrestling. That young man could be out there making a difference in the world.

Chris Rodgers: I think that might be the smartest thing you’ve ever said the young man.

Scott Slade: Oooh! A compliment from Grandpa!

The kick drops Abishag flat on the mat and Jeremiah runs toward the ring ropes, leaps up onto the top rope and moonsaults off of it and onto Abishag crushing him, hooking his leg in the process. Referee Bob Sigro dives to the mat for the count as the fans roar in excitement at the possibility of an upset.

Scott Slade: Vastrix with a pin! ONE! TWO! OH NO! BUZI AND ABADDON DRAG SIGRO OUT OF THE RING MID COUNT!

Chris Rodgers: Abishag kicked out in time anyway! No way in hell could a move like that put that monster to bed!

Scott Slade: Jeremiah gets to his feet and runs toward the side of the ring where Buzi and Abandon are roughing up the Referee. The crowd goes silent as he suicide dives over the top ropes and collides with all three individuals taking them all to the floor much to the surprise of the fans in the front row. The arena erupts as people begin chanting “holy shit” while Jeremiah gets back to his feet. He raises his hand up to acknowledge the crowd who has seemingly swung in his favor.

Chris Rodgers: Looks like the formerly sexy cyborg is winning the fans over.

Scott Slade: People love to root for an underdog Chris. It’s the American way. This is like Patriots versus the Browns. No one wants to see a juggernaut run straight over a beat-up opponent.

Chris Rodgers: Abishag is back on his feet in the ring and he doesn’t look happy!

Vastrix begins to beat on Abaddon with hard right-hand fists to his face, then leaps up to his feet, and begins stomping on brother Buzi’s squid face. Meanwhile, Abishag has high stepped over the top rope and jumped down to the floor. Suddenly without warning the tentacles of Buzi start to wrap themselves around the leg of Jeremiah’s. The Cyborg's one good eye opens wide, bewildered as he struggles to escape their airtight suctioned attachment to his calf.

Chris Rodgers: What in God’s name?

Scott Slade: Looks like Brother Buzi’s mask is more than just for show!

Chris Rodgers: You sure that thing’s a mask?

Scott Slade: An old man like you probably doesn’t watch a lot of Japanese Hentai I take it?

Chris Rodgers: Japanese what?

Scott Slade: Never mind…I’m not opening that door for you.

Abishag walks over to Jeremiah who is completely preoccupied with escaping Buzi’s grasp when he is tapped on the shoulder. Jeremiah turns around only to receive a Mike Tyson power level sized punch to his face. The fans go silent from the impact and Jeremiah’s metallic mask flies off his skull and into the front row. A lucky fan takes off with the souvenir as Jeremiah collapses backward onto the floor motionless. The fans stare at his blood-soaked bandage wrapped face as he lays on the floor unconscious.

Chris Rodgers: My God! Did you hear that punch! I think Abishag might have cracked that robot skull of his!

Scott Slade: It looks like it reopened previous injures as well. The bandages seem to be getting redder by the second.

Abishag helps his brothers up off the floor and then they huddle around the unconscious Vastrix lying on the floor. Referee Bob Sigro has worked his way up to an 8 on the count when Abishag orders Buzi and Abaddon to pick Jeremiah up. Sigro argues with them to end the match, but Abishag shoves him away looking to do serious bodily harm to Jeremiah. Abishag then pulls out a table from under the ring and has Buzi help set it up. The fans go ballistic as they anticipate the ghastly violence about to be unleashed by The Order.

Scott Slade: Just pin the guy already! What? Are they trying to kill him?

Chris Rodgers: I wouldn’t be surprised with these freaks! They don’t belong in wrestling! They belong in a mental institution!

Buzi and Abaddon flop Jeremiah onto the table and hold him by his arms and legs so he can’t escape. Meanwhile, the 300-pound Abishag gets back up on the ring apron and climbs up onto the top turnbuckle. The fans roar as he spreads his arms out like an acrobat finding his balance on a tightrope.

Scott Slade: No! No! What is he doing!

Chris Rodgers: Apparently the big man has more athleticism than he’s let on!

Abishag leaps off of the top rope and lands devastating Swanton bomb crushing Jeremiah through the wooden table much to the satisfaction of the fans who let out a massive roar on impact. Brother Buzi and Abbadon help Abishag up off the floor as Jeremiah lay’s motionless in the rubble of what was once a full wooden table. Abishag picks him up and then lifts his limp body up over his head and Gorilla Presses him up over the top rope and into the ring.

Chris Rodgers: Look at the strength! Incredible stuff!

Scott Slade: Let’s just hope it’s over soon for Jeremiah’s sake. This has been gruesome!

Chris Rodgers: Wait why’s his eye glowing!

Suddenly a large electrical shock erupts from the cybernetic eye in Jeremiah’s hybrid skull. The jolt renders him back into consciousness as he stares up into the rafters breathing heavily. Abishag gets back up on the ring apron and enters the ring cautiously knowing full well what the eye is capable of. Vastrix attempts to get to his feet, but the neurosensory pain running to his brain is too great. The fans roar and scream as they watch the big man walk over to Jeremiah stalkily.

Scott Slade: It looks like the eye just shocked Jeremiah back into cognizance. I can’t believe it!

Chris Rodgers: The last thing I’d want is to be awake after a beating like that. Abishag looks ready to end this thing.

Jeremiah touches his cybernetic eye forcing it to shut off the pain receptors to his brain just as Abishag grabs a hold of him by his long black hair. The big man bends Jeremiah over and put’s his head between his legs gearing up for a massive powerbomb. Just as Abishag goes to lift Jeremiah up, Vastrix digs down deep and lifts the big 300-pound beast up back body dropping him onto the mat. The fans go wild befuddled as to how he was able to find the strength to fight back.

Scott Slade: I can’t believe it! Jeremiah is fighting back! He still got some gas left in the tank!

Chris Rodgers: Did you see him lift Abishag up! That was no small feat even for a cyborg!

Abaddon dives into the ring and gets to his feet quickly to attack Jeremiah. He takes a massive right cross swing at him but misses and Jeremiah makes him pay with an Oklahoma Slam in the center of the ring. The fans let out a roar, engrossed in the heart-pounding action taking place in front of them.

Scott Slade: Oh! Abandon is down!

Chris Rodgers: Abishag getting back on his feet though!

Buzi is next to enter the ring and comes straight at Jeremiah from behind to bulldog slam his face into the ring mat. The attack splatters the mat, staining it with blood and cybernetic goo. Buzi then picks Jeremiah up and locks him into a bear hug squeeze. The move though has no effect on the cyborg in his current state much to Buzi’s confusion. Pulling from his experience fighting with Davey O’Brien, Jeremiah unleashes a series of ferocious head-butts with his busted face staining Buzi’s squid face with blood. The attack forces the Lovecraftian monster to release Vastrix and stumble backward in anger. Suddenly without warning the tentacles of Buzi to extend outward in a 360 array and a black ink-like substance shoots out of his mouth spraying Jeremiah in his good eye and broken face. The fans gasp and question what on earth they’ve just witnessed as Jeremiah struggles to wipe away the substance from his face to regain vision.

Scott Slade: What the hell was that?

Chris Rodgers: It looked like he sprayed him with some goop! Looks like motor oil!

Scott Slade: Who keeps motor oil in their mouth?

Chris Rodgers: I don’t know what it is! I’m just guessing!

The blinded Jeremiah walks right into the grasp of Absihag who wraps his large right hand around his throat and lifts the beaten cyborg high into the air before choke slamming him into the ring with all his might. The ring shakes on impact as Referee Bob Sigro drops down to the mat for the count immediately in hopes to end this match as quickly as possible. Abishag confidently places his right foot over the chest of Jeremiah while roaring like a monster at the crowd.

Chris Rodgers: Choke Slam! It’s over!

Scott Slade: ONE! TWO! THREE! Game over! This farce of a match has finally come to an end and I don’t think Jeremiah will ever be the same after this one.

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Chris Rodgers: I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a man take a worse beating. The worse part was he kept fighting back.

Scott Slade: Looks as if the EMT’s are on their way down to the ring. Fans we have to take a commercial break, but when we come back our Main Event of the evening is next! Don’t move a muscle!

Cult of Luna begins to play over the speaker system inside the arena and The Order gathers itself before heading back up the ramp and into the backstage area. Jeremiah is stretchered out of the ring and rushed backstage to an ambulance.

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The live feed comes back from commercial break with the cameras focused once again in the ring where Rich Relando stands waiting for the go-ahead to start the introductions for the main event. The crowd noise lowers as Rich’s golden and beautiful masculine voice echoes throughout the arena.

Rich Relando: Ladies and gentlemen! The time for our MAIN EVENT OF THE EVENING HAS ARRIVED! ARE! YOU! READY! TOOOOOO RUUMMMBBBLLLEEEE!

“Bring It” by Trapt hits the sound system inside the arena and Valora Salinas and Kronin Reinhardt walk out onto the stage to an ugly reaction from the Southern Georgia crowd. The two veterans make their way down the ramp as some of the more aggressive fans chuck food and beer bottles at them. The two fighters do their best to ignore the racial slurs and screams for them to go back to their own countries as they make their way to the ring.

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Rich Relando: On their way to the ring now! With over 35 years of combined wrestling experience! The FRANCHISE CHAMPION! VALORA SALINAS AND THE GERMAN SUPLEX MACHINE! KRONIN REINHARDT!

Most of the debris misses its mark and the two fighters make their way up the steel steps and into the ring. Valora takes off her Franchise title belt and hands it over to Referee Bob Sigro. Kronin takes some time to walk over to the edge of the ring to exchange some nasty dialogue with the xenophobic fans tossing insults at him and his partner. The fan tells him to fuck off using body language and kronin expresses it in kind back at the fan.

Chris Rodgers: These two absolutely disgust me. Taking away roster positions from American wrestlers who deserve to be here! Why can’t they just got back to their countries and wrestle there Scott?

Scott Slade: Chris, you know full well that Valora is an American! She was born in California! I feel like we’ve been over this a million times.

Chris Rodgers: I haven’t seen a birth certificate! Until I do, she guilty until proven innocent!

Scott Slade: Ehhh….

Chris Rodgers: What? Plus Kronin is a hundred percent German! What’s your excuse for him?

Scott Slade: The man has done more in the world of athletics than half the roster combined! I think he deserves to be here more than some crappy American wrestler with no experience.

Chris Rodgers: He doesn’t belong here and you know it Scott!

Rich Relando: Their opponent! A true American hero! A VETERAN OF DESERT STORM AND ULTIMATE WRESTLING PRESIDENT RUPERT MUDCOCK’S PERSONAL BODYGUARD! WEIGHING AT 355 POUNDS AND STANDING AT SIX FEET SIX INCHES! THE ONE AND ONLY WALTER REAGAN!

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The fans let out a roar and begin chanting “U.S.A” as Walter makes his way out onto the stage with his fists both raised high in the air. “Locomotive Breath” by Jethro Tull begins to play on the sound system as he makes his way down the ramp. The grizzled old war veteran is dressed in an army green t-shirt, brown leather vest, and military green cargo shorts. Walter climbs up the steel steps and enters the ring as the fans give him another pop. Once inside the ring Walter points at Kornin and then motions a cutthroat with his right hand with extreme intensity on his face.

Scott Slade: My god! Walter needs to take it easy or else he’s going to burst that vein in his forehead. Someone needs to test this guy for steroids!

Chris Rodgers: The man’s preparing for battle Scott. This is a man who's seen life and death combat! When he gets ready for a fight, he’s unleashing years of pain. I almost feel sorry for these foreigners because they have no idea what they’re in for. I didn’t understand this plan until now, but this man is a beast. He’s going to annihilate these punks!

Scott Slade: Looks like Sigro is ready to start the match Chris! Kronin has decided to jump into action for his team first against Walter.

The bell is rung and the match starts with the two giants circling one another in the center of the ring. Kronin finally makes the first move and charges in, but is met with a fierce head-butt from Walter that rocks him and forces him to stagger backward. Walter charges in like a raging bull and begins to light Kronin up with rights and lefts to the midsection backing the big German into the turnbuckle. Like a man deranged, he then eye rakes Kornin, and head-butt’s him again before attempting to snap his neck using both of his massive hands. The fans cheer Walters no holds barred, life or death fighting style, but then let out a massive “Oooh” as Kornin falls back on his Krav Maga training and knees the big man in the groin just in time.

**Scott Slade: Oh what a start to this fight already! Referee Bob Sigro all over both of them after that exchange! I don’t think I’ve seen so many rules broken so fast in a match!

Chris Rodgers: This isn’t going to be your standard wrestling match. Walter Reagan is here to put a hurting on these two. This is a fight! Walter isn’t here to wrestle! He’s here to fight these two illegals!

Walter collapses to the mat on his hands and knees breathing heavily after taking a shot to his crown jewels. Kronin moves in on the attack once Referee Bob Sigro finishes his rant about them breaking the rules. He kicks Walter right in the face knocking him over on his back with extreme prejudice. He then follows it up with a massive elbow drop across his chest. Kornin quickly makes the cover on Walter hooking his leg for the pin while the momentum is still on his side.

Scott Slade: Kronin with a cover! ONE! TW.. KICK OUT BY WALTER REAGAN!

Chris Rodgers: You’re not going to beat an American soldier that easy!

Kornin gets to his feet and picks up Walter again and then tosses him into the ropes this time. Walter bounces off of them and Kornin goes for the big boot connecting solidly dropping the big 355-pound big man hard on the mat. He then walks over to his corner and tags in Valora Salinas who is eager to get in the fight. Salinas wastes no time and goes to the top rope of the turnbuckle and dives off of it in an attempt to hit a frog-splash. However, Walter put’s his knees up just at the last second and the high-risk maneuver backfires with Valora smashing her chest and rolling onto the mat holding her ribs in terrible agony.

Scott Slade: Ohhh! Valora going to the top and coming up empty!

Chris Rodgers: It was all a ploy to get them overconfident! Walter is going to unleash a world of pain on Valora now! A WORLD OF PAIN! VA-WHORA IS ENTERING A WORLD OF PAIN!

Scott Slade: Settle down grandpa!

Walter gets to his feet quickly and begins stomping on Valora like a mad man possessed by the God of War himself. He then pulls her up by her long dark black hair and lifts her up into a gorilla-press. Walter then tosses her out of the ring, over the guard railing, and into the front row of spectators who get absolutely crushed under Valora’s weight. The fans let out another roar and Sigro once again jumps all over Walter screaming at him to keep the fight in the ring.

Chris Rodgers: Look at the strength of this man! He heaved that Mexican like a rag doll!

Scott Slade: I think we need some paramedics out here! I think some of those fans Valora was tossed into are hurt! Walter Reagan is a loose cannon! Someone get this man under control dammit!

Kronin enters the ring while Walter and Bob Sigro are arguing with one another and runs up behind the Desert Storm veteran wrapping his arms tight around his large waist. Walter Panics and has no time to react as Kronin German Suplexes Walter onto the back of his head and shoulders. Kronin rinses and repeats the move twice more not letting go Walter no matter how much he struggles to break free of the big Germans monster grip. Eventually, Valora gathers herself on the outside and slides back into the ring before being counted out. Sigro forces Kronin back into his corner and Valora goes on the attack again.

Chris Rodgers: Damn that big bastard of a kraut!

Scott Slade: Kronin went haywire on Walter! Fantastic stuff! Salinas back in control now!

Valora waits hunched over like a football lineman and begins shouting at Walter to get back up and come at her. Walter struggles back to his feet full of rage and comes at Valora swinging, but misses her. Valora uses her agility to avoid his attack and then spins around nailing him with a trio of haymaker shots that land firmly on his nose breaking it. Walter stumbles back into turnbuckle where Valora runs up toward him and jumps into the air grabbing hold of his head before dragging the big man down to the mat, locking in her world-famous submission hold known as the “Aztec Clutch”. Blood gushes from the nostrils of Walter as he fights to break free and stay conscious. The events in the ring send the crowd into an uproar as they shout for Walter Reagan to keep fighting.

Scott Slade: AZTEC CLUTCH! AZTEC CLUTCH! THIS COULD BE IT!

Chris Rodgers: No! Don’t lose to this lesbian freakazoid! You’ll never live the embarrassment down Walter! Rupert will have your head for this!

A few seconds later Walter passes out from the loss of blood flow to his brain. Referee Bob Sigro calls for the bell and Kronin jumps into the ring to celebrate his and Valora’s victory with her. The fans boo and throw garbage at the ring, but Valora and Kronin ignore them. Sigro raises their hands in victory as “Ich Will” by Rammstein starts to play from the speakers in the arena.

Scott Slade: Valora has done it! Walter Reagan has been defeated! Revenge finally attained!

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Chris Rodgers: How does she always do this? It’s like nothing Mr. Mudcock does has any effect on her! She’s like a demon sent to Earth by Satan himself just to spite him!

Scott Slade: Fans we’re all out of time! Tune in next week for our once in a lifetime special event live from North Korea!

Chris Rodgers: Wait what? We’re going to North Korea?

Scott Slade: That’s what I’m being told, Chris.

Chris Rodgers: God help us all…

The live feed cuts marking the end of Friday Night Clash 7.

Ultimate Wrestling will continue.

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  • Thirty-six hours had passed since the events of Friday Night Clash 7 as Ultimate Wrestling President Rupert Mudcock stood on a private airfield in North Carolina. Beside him was his Vice President Robert Elitistios and the 45th President of the United States Ronald McStrump. It was early in the morning and the Sun had just peaked itself out over the horizon. Behind them sat two private jets being fueled and prepped for takeoff. Soon they would be loaded with the Ultimate Wrestling roster and heading toward North Korea. It was clear all three gentlemen were nervous about the mission and what failure could mean for the world. The North Korean emperor’s rhetoric the past year had been very aggressive toward the United States and nuclear war loomed over everyone's heads.*

McStrump: This plan of Summeroff’s have better to work dammit! My entire second term depends on it. Where is he anyway? Wasn’t he supposed to meet us here?

Rupert: How the Blob should I know?

Robert: Sir, did you say Blob?

Rupert: Shut up Robert! The only thing you should be thinking about is how to not royally fuck this up! I won’t be flying out there with you because I have important matters to attend to here in the States. That means I won’t be there to think for you!

Robert: Yes sir, I understand. You have nothing to worry about. I will keep the roster focused on the mission while keeping the Emperor occupied.

Suddenly three large black vans appear in the distance of the runway traveling at top speed. After a few moments, the vehicles come to halt a few feet away from the group. The side doors slid open revealing the majority of the Ultimate Wrestling roster.

Rupert: Finally…It looks like they’ve all been rounded up.

Abishag stepped out of the first van with Buzi, and Abaddon and walked over toward Rupert, McStrump, and Robert. The second van was full of penitentiary security from Livingston prison. They were busy helping Takuma Sato and Abbigail Dresden from out of the armored van they were transported in. Both individuals were still in their orange prison jumpsuits and in handcuffs. The third and larger van was full of the rest of the Ultimate Wrestling roster. Valora, Kronin, the heavily bandaged Jeremiah, Gabrielle Montgomery, Davey O’Brien, Dwight Couch, Baron Vendredi, and Huckleberry.

Rupert: Abishag! Where the hell is Dr. Summeroff?*

Abishag: The good Doctor sends his regards Rupert. He, unfortunately, had more important matters to handle concerning the Blob this morning.

Rupert: What? What on earth could be more important than this mission? He was supposed to accompany all of you to North Korea personally! He was supposed to be our Brain on the ground dammit! Robert can’t handle this on his own!

Robert: Sir, I assure you…

Rupert: Shut up Robert!

Abishag looked at Rupert with a disgruntled look on his face, unhappy with his tone of voice. McStrump stood there confused as to what was happening. The rest of the roster at this time began being forced to board onto the two private jets.

Abishag: Dr. Summeroff has asked that I take over his role in the mission. The Blob himself has given the order. Now if you’ll excuse me we have an assassination to execute.

Abishag and The Order pushed their way through Mudcock and Mcsturmp and made their way to the stairwell attached to the first aircraft. Rupert watched as the last of his roster was boarded and then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a remote device. He then handed the device to Robert placing it directly into the palm of his hand.

Rupert: This is the remote trigger for the explosive in Jeremiah’s cybernetic eye. That blasted mask he had purchased to block our signal is gone. We made sure he had no time to attain a new one before this flight. If he even gets close to Kim, I want you to trigger the explosive. Do you understand me, son?

Robert: Yes sir!

Rupert: Good. Now get your ass on the airplane and Blob speed.

Robert: You mean God speed right…?

McStrump: Get your ass on that jet! Your country needs you!

Robert gave the President a military salute and then sprinted toward the plane to board. A few moments later the jets were barreling down the runway and taking off into the air. The flight was long and awkward, but most of the fighters grouped off in seating arrangements that made them feel comfortable. Thirteen and half hours later the wrestlers landed on North Korean soil in the capital city of Pyongyang national airport. The wrestlers were not allowed to exit their airplanes until all of their documentations had been double-checked by the North Korean military. The fighters were then taking to the Kumsusan Palace of the Sun where Kim Jung-Un himself greeted them to his country first hand.

Kim Jong-Un: Welcome fwantastic wrestlers of America to my cwountry!

Vice President Robert Elitistios lead the group toward the dictator with open arms extended in an embracing manner. Everything seemed normal until Kim suddenly pulled out a handgun from behind his back and shot the Vice President straight in the head-blowing his brains all over the marble floor of the palace and showering the Ultimate Wrestling roster in blood in the process. Every single member of the Ultimate Wrestling roster looked on in absolute horror as Robert collapsed onto the cold marble floor dead as a doornail. Crimson blood seeped out of his skull and pooled over the white floor in sharp contrast as Kim slowly secured his pistol back into its holster. Without warning the entire room filled with Korean military pointing rifles at the Ultimate Wrestling roster.

Kim Jong-Un: Now that that’s twaken care let me expwlain what will be transpwiring the next few days. The show you were schweduled to take part in has been officially cancweled. You’ll be compweting in a deadly tournament in my honor and the winner will be crowned DEATH SPORT CHAMPWION!

The roster looked at each confused as to what the great leader of North Korea was speaking of. Abishag was the first to confront the dangerous dictator.

Abishag: Are you insane! You just murdered our Vice President of Operations! We refuse to take part in any event. Take us back to the airport now!

Kim Jong-Un: I’m afraid I cannot do thwat Mr. Abishag. You're officially hwostages of North Korea! You either fight in the tournament against are gwreatest fwighters or face execution here and now!

It was clear to the wrestlers that they had no choice but cooperate with Emperor’s wishes or otherwise face execution by firing squad. Abishag was furious but realized even the slightest protest would lead to all their deaths. Kronin stepped in handling the rest of the situation as the rest of the roster stood frozen in fear.

Kronin: Fine… will fight your tournament.

Kim Jong-Un: Fwantastic! My genwerals will show you to your pwrison cells! Ha! Enjoy the limited time you have left American wrestlers! My warriors will soon see to your death! HA! Hahahahaha!

To be continued…

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