January 17th 2015
An old warehouse, or possibly barn, stood in stark contrast to the surrounding emptiness. The serenity of the scene is broken by the the mixed sounds of a running engine and the dirt being thrown up by the approaching vehicle. It slides to a stop in front of the building and two large men in black suits get out. One heads to the double doors and starts to unlock the pad lock. The other heads to the back of the car and looks around. He opens the trunk and pulls out someone. A burlap sack covers their head and their hands are cuffed behind their back. The man helps them stand and then rough shoves them towards the building while shutting the trunk with a slam.
The hooded person stumbles and almost falls but the man opening the doors grabs them roughly by the front of their shirt and drags them inside. Once inside both men grab the hooded figure and bodily carry him and set him down roughly in a metal chair. In front of the chair is a set of manacles that they clip around his ankles. They then pull the hood off of him revealing the slicked back hair of some obvious gang banger. He glares at the two men and tries to stand only to be roughly shoved back down. “You are going to fucking regre...”
The banger's head snaps back after the hard connect of one of the suited mens' hands. He brings his head back up and shakes it a bit to clear the stars. He glares at the two men and spits blood at their feet. The suited man that backhanded him pulls back for another swing and the banger flinches.
“Stop.” A female voice floated out of the darkness The suited man smiled at the banger's reaction and took a step aside. The large nature of the two suited men is brought into scope as the diminutive Sativa strolls between them, followed by two more men of the same general size and build. The two new men pass the captive and then turn and flank him. Each man dropping a meaty hand onto his shoulders. He looks up at either man on his side and then back to Sativa.
“Look, there is no...”
“Shut up Scoob.”
Scoob doubled over from the fist that forcibly entered his gut. Sativa nodded to one of the original suited guys and he disappeared into the darkness only to return pushing a cart covered with a heavy dark stained cloth. He disappears again only to return again. This time carrying a chair that he sits just on the edge of the darkness. He then moves over to the cart and takes off his suit coat. He then proceeds to roll up his shirt sleeves. The man who punched Scoob grabs a handful of his hair and pulls his head up. Sativa leans in close to the man's face, taking his chin in her hand.
“You are gonna be my example. You are gonna be the lesson that the rest of your bottom feeding kind will have to learn.” She releases the hold on his chin and looks at her hand with revulsion. She wipes it off on his shirt and turns and walks towards the chair. “This is going to hurt. Sorry, I'm not sorry. Ivan, do something nasty.” She looks at the hulk of a man as she turns around and sits in the chair.
“Da Ma'am.” Ivan cracks his knuckles as he smirks at Scoob. He throws the cloth off the top of the cart to reveal a multitude of dangerous, violent looking items. On the second shelf of the cart sits a car battery, wires leading to a couple of clamps hanging on either end of the cart. He walks over to Scoob empty handed and hauls off and punches him right in the face. Under the tone of flesh on flesh impact comes the subtle but distinct sound of crunching bone as Scoob's nose breaks. A crimson fall spews from his shattered nose as a groan escapes his lips.
Ivan turns on his heel and heads towards the cart, shooting a glance to Sativa. She nods and stands up. The other three men move over to her and all three walk into the darkness. A wolfish grin crosses Ivan's face as he picks up a wicked looking knife. He returns to the semi-conscience form of Scoob. With his free hand Ivan slaps the back of Scoob's head and then flashes the knife in front of his face. The light reflects over Scoob's eyes and he comes to his senses for a moment and tries to stand. His actions only bring a raised foot followed by a stomp and the sounds of yet more bones breaking. A cry of pain escapes Scoob as his ankle is shattered and he collapses into the chair. His hand still cuffed behind him are the only thing keeping him in the chair.
Ivan takes the knife and cuts away Scoobs shirt, exposing his tattoo-covered torso. Ivan notices one of Scoobs many gang tattoos and proceeds to cut it off of his body. Scoob's screams echo off the walls and through the empty space. The wet slap of a chunk of flesh hitting the cement floor undercuts the screams. Ivan goes back to the cart, this time wheeling it closer and picks up the clamps that are attached to the battery. He stands over Scoob and brings the clamps together, drawing sparks as the circuit is completed. He smiles in inspired approval. He places one of the clamps against Scoob's right side he then slowly places the other one on his left shoulder. Scoob's body convulses from the current and once again his screams fill the warehouse, like a sadistic symphony filling a concert hall...
Sativa circles the scene that Ivan left. The cut tattoo, a few other pieces of flesh, what appears to be a couple of fingers, and lots and lots of blood surround the chair. A smirk and half chuckle is the only emotion revealed as she raises a hand and snaps her fingers. She points at the mess and then turns and walks a bit away. The men, her obvious henchmen, come and start cleaning up the mess.
“I'm fucking done. Fuck this nicey nice girl bull shit. That's all that seems to be around Four see dub. Half the time the damned locker room looks like a damned douche commercial. All the ladies happy, smiling, and joking with each other. Fucking disgusting. People got a taste of it last time I decided to grace you morons with speech. And you will obviously get more of it this time. Since this time I have to face off against some role confused, bundle of sticks, goody two shoes.
“Yes, Nick Watson, I'm fucking talking about you, fagot. I'm gonna be honest with you, Nick, I haven't paid any attention to you. They are trying to put you on my level, which is sad really. I am so, so far above you. Gonna compare us with some science. Don't worry, I'll wait for you to get an adult to help explain this to you.”
Sativa stands around waiting for a few moments. She taps a foot impatiently and then checks the watch on her slim wrist.
“That should have been enough time for you. Since I know you feel you are a star, and I know who ever the brass pays to verbally felate the talent thinks you are a star, I'll compare us to stars. Ready? Lets say you are the sun. still with me so far? If you are the sun then we will use Jason Cashe, the South West Champion as the Andromeda galaxy. That is a distance of two point nine MILLION light years. Yes, you heard me right, MILLION light years. I know you are special ed so to put it into terms you can understand a light year is just about six trillion miles. That's trillion, with a T. That is two hundred and forty million times around the Earth at the equator.
“Now you are probably wondering where I come into this equation right? Well, as the brass and their verbal fellatio lackeys would have people believe, I would be roughly equivalent to Proxima Centauri, that is the closest star to our sun. Remember, I related you to the sun. Now I am, in reality, somewhere on the edges of Andromeda. Not quite 'there' yet but leaps, bounds, and life times ahead of you Nick.
“You see where you have been shunted around from bullshit match to bullshit match I have been doing what I do best. Beating bitches down and taking fucking names. What I said on Twitter still goes, Nick, these upcoming week, the last one of January is gonna be my basic bitch week. You can think you are some hot shit something special but you ain't. You are about as basic as they come. Like the song by my girl Snow Tha Product, you nothing but a cookie cutter bitch.
“Everything about you screams generic as fuck. From your theme music, to your entrance and ring attire, all the way down to your moves and attitude. Just another run of the mill wanna be goody good. Fuck maybe you could team up with Roxi, be the bumbling boy wonder to her Batman. I mean every superhero needs a good side kick right? I bet you would fit that roll perfectly wouldn't you Nick? I mean you got the look down already. Might just need to get you a bright colored pair of chonies to wear outside your pants, cause that's what superheros do right? I mean I never really understood that. Let me go be some bad ass muthafucka, but I gotta be lame and shit so I'll wear my tighty whities outside my tights. Yeah that'll counter any bad attitude I got.
“Maybe after I wipe the mat with your face you can go back home to SLC and get you some sister wives. I mean that is the thing there right? Fuck that's running along the lines of them camel jockey, head diaper wearing douche canoe's beliefs. They have harems and then get seventy two virgins if they kill themselves in the name of Allah. You just get a bunch of lame as fuck uppity prude white chicks. I think y'all got the short end of the stick. Might want to hold a meeting with them, get you in on some of that virgin action! Yeah they are a little violent for your guys' taste. But they have a fuck ton of money like you greedy fucks.
“Nick, joking aside. What fucking chance to you think you have here? You haven't beaten shit here and you can't beat shit. I mean you have wins over who exactly? Couple of no neck having, roid shooting, Raisinet sporting douchenozzles. Couldn't beat Grandpa Corvin, couldn't beat Flipp, couldn't win your intro rumble. Now, not really taking anything away from Corvin, man is a legend and one tough ass trainer. Oh yeah, forgot to mention that. Spent a week in LA training with him and have a personalized training routine from him. So I guess you can look for a fucking repeat of history in our match. Then again it is just you and me. So I guess you will get to see the loss from a better perspective. You know, laid out on your back, looking up at the lights. Or maybe even folded up like a wallet in a Whitewall begging for me to stop.
“Heard your back is a bit fucked up. Would be a shame if something happened to it...”
Sativa glares menacingly. The serious expression melting from her face as she chuckles.
“Nick, you better pray and hope that I don't break your fucking back. I'm normally not one to injure people. Well, I used to be that nice. Now? I might just snap your back just to send a fucking message. Four see dub has been too fucking nice to everyone lately. Time for me to rectify that. It's fine, I have enough of a mean streak to be the one to open fucking eyes. After you I got my sights set on them tag straps along with my girl Ramona. The Black Dahlias will be wearing those belts, don't fucking doubt. After that, mayhap that I might just tap into my inner super villain and tag out that goody two shoes super hero wannabe reject Roxi. But I'm getting ahead of myself here.
“Nick, take your vitamins, and pray to those golden disks, or whatever your weird fucking Mormons pray to, because you will need all the fucking help you can get. I am coming into Winter Wasteland to help prove it's name. The ring will look like a wasteland after I am through with your sorry corpse. Don't worry, I'll leave you pretty enough for an open casket funeral. I'm a bitch, but I haven't hit Fucking Bitch mode.