Go down


Post  Stan Daniels on Fri Jan 21, 2011 4:06 pm

DETAILS: Johnny and Hairy really don’t like each other much. And can you blame Hairy? Rude has done some pretty, well, rude things to him. But we won’t dwell on that. Let’s talk about the match. The cage for this match looks just like Vince's old Big Blue Cage, except it's made out of bamboo. That's right, splintery, dangerous bamboo. The top of each vertical bar will be sharpened to a spike, and hanging from them will be a variety of weapons, whatever your heart desires. Escape the cage to win.

RP RULES: ]: All King of the Cage tournament matches are seventy-two hours with a three posts per day hard cap. In addition, there is a two hour continuation rule, meaning that one wrestler may not post back-to-back flashes until at least two hours has passed from the posting time of the first flash.

RP JUDGES: Krusher/Mr. Francis I. Cartier - Tiebreaker Living Deadgirl

This was it. The first step in what he hoped would be a long run. Of course, you can never be too confident in these things. Even the man in the very lowest of rungs can come out and pull an upset. That's precisely what Johnny Rude was afraid of tonight. Hairy was a darkhorse and as such, he had something to prove. Men such as him were dangerous. Especially in events such as these. Rude hadn't seen much of Hairy lately, but that was no reason for him to relax. For all he knew, Hairy was conserving his energy. Biding his time for the right moment to strike.

It's probably why Rude was in the basement now. He wore a welder's mask, thick gloves, and other attire needed when flame cutting. He pulled his arm away from his project and turned off his welding iron. Johnny took several steps back and examined his newest creation: The Terrible Tube of Torture. Now certainly, one might be asking how this done is different from any other. The truth of the matter was simple: Each every tube was different from each other. This was because one tube couldn't be made for all sizes. It simply wouldn't deal as much damage that way.

And so, he had to custom make every one. It was a matter of height, weight, and other factors. Once he had his opponent's stats down, he could properly set to his task. This task was finished. He was proud of his handiwork. Not much was left for him to do now. Except for fill the tube with the devices which would administer the torture and find it's subject. This tube would contain the following items: Glass, barbed wire, and ball bearings. The ball bearings were an experiment on the part of The Rudeness. Unlike what usually went in the tube, they were blunt and not piercing at all. He wondered if perhaps, if enough force was generated, whether or not the ball bearings could cause some internal damage.

Well, there would only be one way to find out. He left the basement and set to the HARD part.

Meanwhile, Hairy was entering the arena. His mind was focused. It was sharp. All he could think about was ripping Johnny Rude apart. From the moment Hairy had entered the fed Johnny Rude had done nothing but egg him on, insult him, and generally piss him off. And he did it as a challenge. He was trying to prove that he was the alpha male between himself and Hairy. Well, Rude didn't know who he was dealing with. The furry one was a legend in his own right. He had fought bigger, meaner, and tougher men that Johnny fucking Rude. Didn't he lose to Samite once!?

Hairy was about to approach his locker room when something happened.

The sound of metal meeting flesh echoed in the hall. Hairy hit the ground with a painful thud. Standing over him was none other than Johnny B. Rude himself. Rude’s opponent rolled onto his back. His head spun from the pain of the chair shot. That said, it wasn’t the first shot he’s taken like this. As a matter of fact, he’s taken worse ones from bigger men. Johnny was bringing the chair down again. Hairy waited for a few seconds. He then kicked it with all the force he could muster. The chair swung back and nailed Rude in the face painfully. Johnny cursed and staggered back.

Hairy knew he had to get up. He had to stand and he had to fight if he wanted to win this. Rude dropped to a knee and shook his head several times.

Rude: Ugh…you…piece…of…shit.

Hairy: What’s the matter, regional Rude? Your cheap tactics didn’t work?

Hairy grabbed the chair Rude had now dropped. He slammed it into Johnny’s head. Rude cried out and hit the ground. His large and fury opponent stood over him and began laying into him again and again with it. He paused between shots to taunt his would be foe.

Hairy: Not so confident now, are you?

Rude: Suck my dick…you furry faggot. ARGH!
The scream was well deserved. Hairy slammed the chair directly into Johnny’s face. In a matter of moments, The Rudeness was out. He stopped and looked around. Any minute now he expected Holland to show up. He had been bailing Johnny out left and right all week long. Why not help his little butt lover now? That’s what was going through his mind as he stood by Rude’s body and held the chair up. He was ready for anyone, anyone at all to strike. After several minutes and no one showing themselves, he was content to believe that no one was coming to bail him out.

Hair lowered the chair and turned to Rude. He gave him a kick for good measure. A piece of paper flew out of Johnny’s pocket. The eyebrow of Hairy raised as he wasn’t expecting this. He knet down and picked it up. Hairy unfolded the paper carefully and read it aloud:

Hairy: “Plan to kill Hairy….Step one…attack Hairy. Step Two, knock Hairy unconscious. Step three: Drag Hairy to basement and place him into Tube of Terror.” ….Are you serious? What the HELL is this?

He kicks Rude again. Who would carry their “master plan” to victory on their person? It seemed incredibly stupid. Then again, this WAS Johnny Rude. Such idiocy was to be expected. He looked at the paper again. Tube of Terror…he remembered it from before. Chance had fallen victim for it. It was then that an idea had come to mind. What if he turned Rude’s little fuckin’ trap against him? A smirk curved his furry lips. He grabbed Johnny Rude’s leg and began to drag him to the bowels of the basement where the Tube lied in wait. How did he know it was in the basement? Well, the paper said as much.

When Hairy finally did arrive, he couldn’t believe what he saw. It was a tube which was precisely his own height and weight. Inside of it was all sorts of sharp and dangerous objects. Hairy viewed the tube with a degree of disgust. Johnny had meant to throw HIM in that vile thing. He looked down to Johnny and went to kick him again. Only, something happened again. Rude’s eye opened and he grabbed Hairy by the foot. He yanked it out from underneath him. Hairy cursed himself for not laying into him more.

Little did he know that Rude really was in pain. The grabbing of the foot and yanking was a move of desperation. Hairy would be up again, and he knew it. Johnny reached into his pocket and pulled out a taser. They both managed to sit up simultaneously.

Rude: God damn it…just stay the fuck down…

Hairy: No…you’re a bitch, I don’t tap to bitches.

Rude: Maybe but…your mom does…


They continued to fight over the taser. In the end though, it would all be for naught. The reason for this was because someone clocked them both in the back of the head. Later, they would awake…

And when they did, they would find themselves dangling over the bamboo cage…tied together…

And worst of all, inside the tube.

Rude: Ugh…what the….what the hell is happening?

Hairy: ….

He was still out. Great. Rude began to panic as the Tube began to rock back and forth like a pendulum. He also knew that if it gained enough momentum, the wicked devise would shred and bash them both.


Johnny Rude: The smell is fucking unbearable!

Rude did his best to keep his nose away from Hairy, but being tied up in a fucking tube limits how far away you can truly get from the furry coated horny male.

Hairy: ...

Yep, Hairy was still out.

Johnny Rude: Wake up, pussy!

Sure enough, his eyes flutter open and without hesitation...

Hairy: Someone say "pussy"?

Hairy's face said it all. Especially the mouth part of the face. But honestly, he realized he was tied to Johnny Rude...and he realized he was in some fucking tube-like thing.

Hairy: Not again.

Again? Rude did a double take at Hairy and just had to ask.

Johnny Rude: Again? What the hell...

Hairy: One time...in NGPW...an Asian hooker I spent big bucks for had me in some similar contraption. She was supposed to be the kinkiest hooker...We were both tied up...just like this. Her vagina was as moist as your vagina is right now.

Rude knew somehow Hairy would make this serious situation into a big joke.

But the big joke isn't what concerned Rude. It was what he'll know as the big poke. The two were tied together...and best of all...they were face-to-face. And the poke is what Johnny was feeling on his upper thigh at the moment.

Johnny Rude: That better be a fucking ball bearing that I feel poking into me.

Hairy: I'm talking Asian chicks...you better hope that's the only place you feel "this".

Johnny Rude: Sick mother fucker.

Johnny starts to wiggle away from the poke, but quickly stops as he realizes that once again, the tube is starting to rock back and forth.

Hairy: I may not be the smartest man...

Rude gives him the "No Shit" look...

Hairy: But I thought when you made your pussy tube of terror bullshit, that just your victim was supposed to be in it. Not you and the victim.

Johnny Rude: Einstein, listen...I obviously didn't plan on being tied up, looking into your bloodshot eyes, while having a chance to be shred to pieces with you.

Hairy: Then who the hell put us in here?

Johnny Rude: Never saw who it was. My instincts tell me it was probably Chance....or Storm trying to be a hero.

Hairy's new to Fed X. So he doesn't know all of Rude's enemies. Hairy really only has one other person not named Rude that would seek him out...and that's Joe Power. But no way did he do this.

Hairy looks deeper into this.

Hairy: You have anything against Battlestone?

Johnny Rude: Besides me kicking his ass in the OWC?

Hairy: Well..maybe it was him. The guy has NEVER beaten me, and he used to bring that up all the time. Plus...you defeated him at his one shot to prove to people he wasn't worthless...and you kicked his ass and embarrassed him. Maybe he did this to us...?

Johnny Rude: Hmmmm...nah. He's not this creative or smart.

Hairy: Valid point.

It was weird watching these two talk like they weren't enemies and like they didn't have a big match.

Speaking of which, they were still hanging above the bamboo. But the arena was empty. There was NOBODY in the arena at that time.

Hairy: So....

It was awkward. Hairy and Rude wanted to probably rip each other's heart out. But they were forced to work as a team for the time being. The problem for Hairy always has been heat. Not "heat" as in wrestling "heat" and getting heat. But as in temperature.

He could feel the beads of sweat dripping down his back through all the hair. Johnny could also tell something was wrong with Hairy.

He could hear it in the breathing. It was heavy breathing.

Johnny Rude: You aren't going to fucking die on me, are you?

Hairy turned his head away from Rude...to the side, gasping for more air. When facing Rude, he was breathing in all this hot air. Not a joke saying Rude is full of hot air...but it's true. Hairy was breathing in hot air...and was starting to somewhat panic.

Turning his head, he was gasping for some cooler air...and found it. It helped for the moment. His deep breaths slowed down a bit.

Johnny Rude: Good lord. Is this what happens when you get old and become a washed up wrestler?

Hairy wants to comment...but continues to calm himself down with some more deep breaths. And Rude isn't a total tool like we all are certain he is. He knows he needs to shut up for a moment, otherwise Hairy is going to go nuts and possibly fuck them both up in that tube when he'll cause it to shred the shit right out of them....maybe.

Rude dazed off for a bit while Hairy got the sand out of his vagina. He had to think of what to do next. After several moments, he snapped out of it. The silence was loud enough to get his attention. He locked his eyes back on Hairy, who was just staring at him.

Johnny Rude: You're not going to kiss me, are you?

Hairy: Dream on.

Johnny Rude: Glad to see you feel better. Now...

Hairy: No no no. Don't give me some lame ass idea. I'll come up with the ideas.

Johnny Rude: Riiiight. What's the last idea you came up with?

Hairy: Well...my idea on how to attack you and get the upper hand in this match.

Johnny Rude: You actually had a plan?

Hairy: Yeah, I set the plan in motion...but it obviously didn't work.

Johnny Rude: Oh god, what was it?

On TV sets across the world, Hairy's plan is now on display.

Some 14 year old boy stands outside Rude's front door of where he calls "home"....clutching a baseball bat, WAITING for Rude to exit.

Obviously, he'll be waiting a long time.

We now cut back to Hairy and Rude in the Tube.

Hairy: Nevermind. Let's hear your idea.

Johnny Rude: What we need to do is taaauuuuggghhhh

The tube starts to rock a little bit.

Below it is a ring crew member. He's up on a standard sized ladder poking up with his broom.

Johnny, after being scared shitless, shouts before his death occurs....


The man stops as the tube slowly rocks back and forth.

Hairy: What's the worst that could happen if this went off?

Johnny explains it in words that terrify Hairy.

Hairy: **gulp**....and what's the least amount of damage that would happen.

Johnny Rude: It might not be that bad. I've got ball bearings in it. Usually I go with really sharp objects. I'm sure we'd still get injured...but nothing devastating.

Hairy: Do you want to take the gamble and trigger this mother fucker?

A voice is heard from below answering Hairy's question.

Voice: I can decide that for you!

That voice belongs to none other than....


It's been said before...Hairy is a darkhorse in this competition.

Storm said it. Rude thought it. Battlestone had a wet dream about it.

It's also been said he's had a memorable career...but nothing that signifies greatness. His longevity, however, is what makes him impressive. Most of his career has been filled with great hardcore matches.

If there's one thing Hairy can take...besides a dildo in the pooper...is take a different beating. A beating in the ring. He's taken tough shots from the greats in the industry. He knew that in this cage match, where there were random items on top of each bamboo stick, that he'd probably receive some more memorable shots, this time from Johnny Rude.

He's never met Johnny Rude until his arrival in Fed X. Yet, the two have had this hatred for each other.

Rude's tactics bother Hairy. Doing something so disturbing just to get TV time...it bothers Hairy, a man that obviously says dumbass things for a laugh, but works his ass off in the ring and gets remembered for his effort.

What people haven't seen from Hairy is what's been going on since he last laced up the boots in Wrassle[dot]Net a LONG time ago.

Where was he? Why the comeback?

Well, he was doing nothing. Living on a Wisconsin farm, enjoying retirement. What he wasn't expecting was bad investments by his accountant with Hairy's money...pissing all of it away on business that never amounted to anything more than a one month opening and a quick closing.

What he wasn't expecting was a visit from his accountant's wife, Kelly. Hairy had no idea about his money being spent and lost. His accountant never said a word. That's why when he opened the door on his farm house and saw a rosey cheek, watery-eyed woman, holding crumpled up tissues that were moist from the tears and colored from the makeup...he was surprised. He had never met this woman ever.

Hairy: Hello?

He was even more shocked when she approached him and just flung her limp body towards him. He caught her and held her up with a hug. She flew her arms around him. His acceptance of her caused her to start balling. Hairy still had no idea what the hell was going on.

Did he knock her up?

Did he knock up her daughter?

Did he knock up her mother?

He's done ladies of a variety of ages, shapes, races, species....so he wasn't so sure.

After a minute of silence, he couldn't stand it anymore.

Grabbing her by the shoulders and holding her body away from his, he looked into her bloodshot, tear-filled eyes and asked...

Hairy: Boy or girl?

She had no idea what the hell he was talking about. But she did manage to finally speak.

Kelly: Hairy...my name is Kelly. You know my husband, Alan Richardson.

Hairy didn't KNOW him personally. Just knew him as his accountant. But he finally figured out that Alan must be dead. It didn't take a genius to figure it out.

Hairy: Did he...

Kelly: Die? Yes. He killed himself.

Hairy took a step back. Shocked by the news.

Hairy: Wh...what? When? Why?

Hairy noticed her legs were a bit wobbly, so as she spoke, he grabbed her arm and led her into the farmhouse.

Kelly: You don't know?

Sitting her down on a chair at his dining room table, Hairy starts to walk into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee for the lady.

Hairy: Know what?

She's silent for a moment. The sound of the coffee hitting the bottom of the mug echoes through the quiet house. Well, that and the sound of the baseball game on the radio coming from upstairs in Hairy's office room.

Kelly: According to the authorities...he's bought numerous businesses, invested in some other things...and they've all failed.

Hairy: Oh...I'm sorry. I can help you out with the funeral and all that stuff. It's the least I could do.

He returns to Kelly with the coffee and places the mug down on a coaster in front of her.

Kelly: I appreciate the offer, Hairy....but....it wasn't just our money he lost.

Hairy: Really? Who else's money?

As the question left his mouth, he then realized the answer.

Hairy: Fuck.

His head dips a bit and his shoulders just drop. His body language said it all. But he was Hairy...so he kept his spirits bright.

Hairy: Listen...we'll be okay. Trust me. I'll figure something out. I've lived without money before. I'll make sure I take care of you and the kids. You guys have kids, right?

Kelly: Three boys.

Hairy: Yep...Listen, why don't you guys stay here for now. As long as I have this house, you are welcome here. He lost all of my money, right?

She can barely manage to lift her head up to look at Hairy. That was the answer he figured he'd get.

Hairy: I'll think of something.

Months and months went by. Soon, the house was no longer Hairy's. He, Kelly, and the three boys moved in with one of Kelly's sisters.

Hairy knew what he had to do.

He had to come back to the industry that created him. He had to come back to the business that he made his fortune in.

But Wrassle[dot]Net was on the decline...and he kept hearing about all the big names in the business joining up in a placed called Fed X. The only problem was getting a doctor's clearance.

Kelly, having lived with Hairy for months now, knew he had knee problems. Every morning, she'd wake up and watch him do his workouts, trying to strengthen the knees...when in actuallity, all it did was loosen them up so they were good to go for the day. It seemed like a lost cause...but Hairy kept up the routine day in and day out.

After finding out the only Doctor that would sign off was Dr. Kieber, it was a done deal. Hairy called his ex-commish and got a clearance letter signed and Fed X was his new home.

Nobody had any idea of what Hairy had just gone through. Nobody knew that money was the real reason he was back.

Obviously, he tried just doing some public appearances for cash and doing some endorsements, but his name is as popular after missing so much time. He had to make a name for himself again.

With all the new names out there taking all the endorsements and public appearances, Hairy had nothing worth the time or effort. Guys like Rellik, Genocide, Matt McDervish, Adam Draven, Alan Scott...all these names of champions in their feds were the ones the fans wanted to see.

But all Hairy knew was that he could once again join those ranks of names.

But he wasn't so fortunate. He's winless in his return...and he knows he doesn't have many more opportunities to make money. Perhaps an embarrassing loss to Johnny Rude would seal his fate. He knew it.

He also knew that if he lost...he's going down fighting. He'll lose but make sure that it's HIS name they talk about from that fight. It's HIS name that people will keep uttering the next day when talking about the match.

That's why...when Hairy and Rude were in the Tube of Terror...and heard a familiar voice from below...

Voice: I can decide that for you!

...Hairy didn't give a shit that it was the voice of Holland. He figured the pillow biter would show up soon anyways.

Hairy: Do it, Holland. Knock us down.

Rude wanted to interrupt to advise against such an idea, but Hairy was already rocking the damn tube as it still hung up above the bamboo.

Holland: Rude? How the hell am I supposed to get you guys down?

Holland finally was done shitting thanks to Joe Power...and found enough time between wipes to figure out Johnny needed his help.

Hairy: Don't worry, Holland. I'm getting us down.

Johnny tries some headbutts on Hairy, and connects. But it's far from enough to stop him.

Eventually, the tube does it's job.

Both men in the tube end up flying down towards the mat, thankfully not landing on top of one of the sharp bamboo sticks. Hairy's swinging of the tube in the air helped that out. Unfortunately, it's a long fall and both men are out cold on the mat in the ring. Holland can only look on in horror from his front row seat on the ladder outside of the cage.

Holland: Johnny?

No response.

All Holland could see was blood. The glass from inside the Tube of Terror did it's job. Johnny was covered in his own blood. Hairy, too. It soaked his body hair and both men had a pool of blood around their limp bodies, staining the wrestling mat. The blood stain kept getting bigger and bigger.

Barb wire was wrapped around Hairy's midsection. What the fuck kind of contraption did Rude make? At least Hairy and Rude weren't tied together anymore. That somehow came undone in that little science expirement that Rude built.

Both men were out and Holland finally entered the ring. He could care less about Hairy and immediately went to Rude's side.

Every question asked went unanswered. The good news was Johnny was breathing. The bad news was more blood was being lost by each man. Holland reaches for his phone, but the visual of it still sitting on the table in his room makes him shake his head.

Holland: Figures.

Quickly, he gets up and bolts out of there. Help is needed.

The question that still needs to be answered is...who the fuck put both Rude and Hairy up in the tube together?

What type of help will Holland get?

Dun DUN DUNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!


He was out like the last breath of a dying woman. It was wonderful. It was the first time in forever he hadn't heard the voices. In this space, he was at peace. There were no voices which whispered dark things into his brain. No pressure from those who expected him to be THE ONE at all times. No friends who saught to use him to get to the spotlight. No wife with a dead daughter. Nothing. It was absolute bliss. And he knew that it simply couldn't last. Good things rarely do.

And no sooner did he think this, his first actual thought since being knocked unconscious, than the memories started happening. He found himself sitting in a chair. Accross from him was a reporter. It was an insignifcant interview for some dirt bag website. Why he had even agreed to it was beyond him. His best guess was that the owner of the site could afford the fee, and Johnny didn't have anything else to do that day. And so he sat, one leg resting on his knee, and looked at the interviewer.

He was a hefty man with a receding hairline. His thick glasses reflected light from the ceiling. His stereotypical nerd's goatee and ponytail said all that Rude needed to know. The man kept pausing to scratch his palm. Johnny didn't want to touch him. He was worried he might contract some kind of crazy skin disease from the bastard. Why did he agree to this again? It was hard to say now.

Interviewer: First of all, Mr. Johnny, it is an honor to be sitting accross from you.

Rude: The honor is all yours, I assure you.

Interviwer: Oh, wow, you just insulted me! That's awesome!

Rude: Can we get on with this?

Interviewer: Right..right...okay, our fans have selected these questions, you understand.

Rude: Whatever. Speak.

Interviewer: Okay. First question: "Rude, what do you think about your loss to Adam Draven?" My, that's a good one. He was the dark horse in the event, now wasn't he?

Rude tensed. He wanted to throttle the life out of whatever wise ass would ask such a question. Instead, he took a short breath and spoke. The mask of The Antichrist Superstar firmly in place.

Rude: He was a jack ass, that's what. And if you call that travesty in Australia a match, then you're no fan of REAL wrestling.

Interviewer: Right, well...I'm sure the fans will love to hear that. Okay, the next question: "Johnny, how does it feel to lose your Superstar to Emissary via proxy not long before your loss to Adam?"

He sighed again. What kind of interview was this, anyway? He cleared his throat. He had to stay in character. He couldn't, COULD NOT show how much this was getting to him.

Rude: Shit happens. Emo beat an old man. He didn't beat me. He can't. I mean, what does it say that I thought facing Phil in fuckin' CANADA was more important?

Interviewer: I'm not too sure. We'll let the people speculate that one. So, the next question: "The Antichrist Superstar has always been one of my favorite performers. However, I can't help but feel as though his spotlight is fading. This past week, he suffered a terrible loss via tie to Alan Scott in his bid for the X-Facto-"

Johnny stood up from his chair. He slapped the clipboard the man held with the questions on it and began to shout at him.

Rude: What kind of fuckin' interview is this!? You runnin' some kind of smear campeign? FUCK YOU!

The chubby man looked up at him with eyes of terror. This was the kind of look he was accustomed to. He scratches his hand nervously and spoke again.

Interviewer: Nothing, sir, honest. These were just questions the fans wanted to know. We're all wondering the same thing: What happened?

Rude's eye twitched. His face was flush with redness from anger. He clenched his fists tightly. The man read his body language and knew that NOTHING good could come from this. He saw the punch coming in his mind's eye before it happened. Still, it didn't stop him from throwing his arms up like a dainty woman when the blow finally came. The man's nose broke, his blood splattering his face like some kind of crimson ink blot. The man fell out of his chair and landed on the ground. He was out.

Rude stared at his fist which was now covered in crimson. Again, he couldn't help but think of those ink blots shrinks used. Rorschach tests, they called them. The blood seemed to form a pattern. The closer he inspected it, the more real it seemed. He stared at it for a long time until he saw the word, "Fail" spelled out on his fist. Johnny let out a growl and clenched his fists so tightly that blood was dripping down them now.

Fail. It was as if the universe was laughing at him. It seemed that way. Spinner BARELY giving him a win over Phil Stone, losing to Adam, losing to Alan, losing to Storm and Carnage...it was too much. The memory blurred away. As if all the shapes and colors which formed it blend and mixed like paint. All Johnny saw now were a thousand mocking faces. They all laughed, they all said the same word over and over again. Fail. Fail. Fail. FAIL!

He couldn't take it anymore. The Rudeness let out a cry of anger. In doing so, he managed to rouse himself from unconsciousness. His body was aching tremendously. Both he and Hairy were the very vision of blood and gore. Johnny looked at the cage door. The arena was indeed, empty. There were no fans, no commentators, no one. He began to crawl towards the door. If he fought Hairy now, it would count for nothing.

As he crawled, he kept hearing those words again and again in his head. Each time he heard it he felt a knife poke at his pride. He was Johnny god damn Rude! Who were they to laugh at him!? A few short months ago, he was on trial for being one of the most evil, wicked, and blackened souls in existance. He was not a joke. Not a farce. He was The Bloodsport Champion. And as far as he was concerned, this match just became a Bloodsport battle.

He finally reached the door. Johnny reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. These were slightly larger than your normal ones. He had them made for the tournament, in the event that he wanted to reduce his opponent's options. That was what Rude was doing now. He closed the door to the cage and handcuffed it shut. With that done, Rude grabbed onto the bamboo. It took a large amount of effort, and intense pain, but he managed to pull himself up to his feet.

His legs were weak, though. A bad start, to be sure. The King of Extreme used the cage wall to keep him standing. Rude watched as Hairy pushed himself up slowly, not all the way there, but close. He eyed Johnny and his face contorted into a look of pure rage and disgust.

Hairy: This is all your fault...

Rude: Yup. And it only gets worse from here.

Hairy: Let me guess: You're gonna cut a wordy promo at me? We have Phil Stone now for that, thanks.

Rude: No, asshole...this just became a motherfuckin' Bloodsport match...

Hairy looked at him quizzically. He rose to his feet, but barely. Johnny smirked and licked blood from the corner of his mouth.

Rude: 24/7 Hairy...which means without a ref...fans....commentators...my belt, and the second round slot is up for grabs. Think of it as an empty arena match with a bamboo cage. Can't get much more old school than that.

Hairy: Fine by me. I don't need a crowd to witness the biggest humiliation of your life.

Rude: No Hairy, that happened when your dick touched me. I think I'll never scrub the stench of shame and cheap tranny whores from that area of my body.

Holland stood in the entrance way. There was security around him. He had witnessed their exchange, and was now witnessing the two men charging at one another. One security guard member spoke out.

Security: Should we cut them out?

Holland: .....No. Let it happen. I understand what Rude is doing now...

An empty arena match with a bamboo cage.

The thing was, Hairy loved it. It would be historical. The problem that he didn't realize was how much he truly did feed off of the fans and their cheers.

When Hairy turned heel along time ago as Greed in the epic D7 angle in UCE, he realized his skills in the ring diminished because they weren't supporting him. He fed off of the cheers. He fed off of the fact that people loved him.

A psychologist would dig deeper into the situation and realize that comes down to shitty parenting. Another day...another story. But for now, Hairy looked at Rude and a smile covered the furry fuck's face.

Rude, too, smiled. Both men loved it. It's weird. If they actually sat down and bullshitted for an hour, they'd probably find out they should be related for how similar they actually are. But for now, enemies is what they are.

Hairy: You ready, fuckface?

Johnny Rude: I've already won.

Hairy wasn't sure if he was just confident and cocking him off...or if some weird time travel thing was going to happen and Johnny Rude already knew the results. ANYTHING is possible in these types of matches.

Instead, Hairy's body felt different. Adrenaline? No. Lack of blood causing weakness? Yes. But the adrenaline actually did kick in and Hairy and Rude stepped towards each other.

Hairy: I knew you just had to get close to me again.

Trying to play mind games...doesn't work on Rude for the moment as Johnny irish whips Hairy into the ropes.

Hairy ducks the clothesline attempt, hits the opposite ropes...

In his head, he's already planned out the fact that he'll return to Rude and drop kick him. However, Rude just played it perfectly. After Hairy ducked the clothesline attempt, Rude followed behind the furball towards the ropes, so that when Hairy bounced off, Rude was there to deliver his own dropkick.

The impact sent Hairy back into the ropes, his head whiplashing backwards and cracking against the bamboo.

Hairy got a glimpse of a weapon on the bamboo up above. This one was a stop sign. Seriously? That was cool ONE time when Raven did it. Now? Lame as hell. Oh well...he'd probably never try to grab that one.

But he just has to hope he gets a chance to grab a weapon, because now he's down on the mat with his back resting up against the bottom two ropes. Rude is standing right there. His wobbly legs able to go strong enough to send a kick to the side of Hairy's face.

Of course, as it airs on TV, it's in slow motion as the combination of saliva and blood fly out of the mouth on impact. Since the match started, there hasn't been a lot of moves done, but Hairy feels like he's already wrestled a marathon of a match. He has to fight his own eyelids at the moment to even stay open.

In fact...he lost that battle. Rude continued the beating...but Hairy was out of it. Even when Rude took the barb wire on Hairy's fur and pressed it into Hairy's flesh with his boot...Hairy stayed knocked out.

Instead, all Hairy could see was Kelly and her three sons.

All he could see was them...homeless.

All he could see was him failing again.

All he could see was...a blurry Johnny Rude?

It appears Johnny took his left hand and forced open Hairy's right eye. Kneeling down, he gets right in Hairy's face and spouts out...

Johnny Rude: I want you to see this, you mother fucker!!

Cocking back with his right arm while holding Hairy's right eye open with his left hand, Johnny Rude delivers a punch to Hairy's face. Not just any punch...but one with brass knuckles, thanks to one of the bamboo sticks.

Holland, looking over at security, smiles and comments.

Holland: See? No need to go in there and stop this. It's just about over.

At this moment, Hairy has a moment in life flash right before his eyes. He remembers a training session with his first main tag team partner, Nailbone...from back in CEW. XxX Rated. One of the best tag teams CEW ever saw. Nailbone helped teach Hairy some of the tricks of the trade.

Nailbone: Think as if you are your opponent. Most of the time, if they are as good as you, they're next move against you is probably what you would do.

Hairy was then blindfolded and had to figure out what move Nailbone would do after describing the situation.

Nailbone: So....you just got back up on your feet...I've got momentum after just a simple hip toss.

Hairy rushes towards him but Nailbone moves out of the way, watching as Hairy tumbles over his own feet and falls face first into the mat.

Nailbone: THINK, Hairy. THINK!!! Get up.

He stands back up...facing where he thinks Nailbone is. Nailbone, however, sneaks over to Hairy's side and swings to punch the furball in the side. Hairy, however, steps forward, then delivers his own kick diagonally backwards, connecting with Nailbone, and sending him to the mat....smiling.

Hairy: How's that, asshole?

Nailbone: Better.

Back to present time...Hairy is basically out of it. A shot to the face and Rude had lifted him back up to his feet.

A few seconds went by after Rude placed Hairy in the corner of the ring. Hairy knew Rude was getting another weapon. He could go for the win, but Rude isn't about winning fast. Tonight...it was about embarrassing and hurting Hairy.

Hairy felt the ring vibrate as Rude got down from reaching a weapon from above. A few quick steps towards Hairy, and the furball felt him getting closer. With the ropes under each armpit, Hairy lifts himself up and swings his legs out. CLANK!

The stop sign! The gay fucking stop sign got sent back into the face of Johnny Rude. He was planning on running at Hairy with it and smashing it into his face. But it backfired. The success of the blinded reversal of momentum helps Hairy open his eyes back up.

Rude was down...but not out. He, too, was very weak from the Tube of Terror.

Hairy took a step towards Rude, but slips on a puddle of blood under his feet, causing Hairy's left leg to keep going forward while the right foot stayed back. Before his balls died from doing the splits, Hairy fell back to avoid the full splits, but it still hurt. He tries to grab the ropes to get him back up onto his feet...but the blood on his palms makes it hard to get a grip on the slippery rope.

Instead, Hairy falls back down.

By the time he rolls onto his stomach and starts to push himself back up, Rude is there to assault him some more.

The guy just doesn't quit...and Hairy was saying every swear word he knew to himself in anger.

But Hairy thought back to a conversation he had earlier in the day...before Rude ruined the match with the Tube of Terror.

Holding the phone from inside the room, Hairy sat down on a couch in a cheap motel room where he was staying... and listened to the voice on the other end...and responded.

Hairy: So...if I lose, you'll give me three hundred thousand dollars?

Silence...as Hairy listens again.

Hairy: I know I need the money. But I can get that money from being successful here in Fed X.

Hairy listened some more and then hung up.

He knew by winning, it helped out his chances of getting better matches...making more money...endorsements...etc.

But he knew he already was damaged goods thanks to the tube...and what if he were to somehow beat Rude...but be too warn out for the next round that he'd lose. Winning just round one wouldn't help Hairy get money. But he already figured he might not be in good enough shape for another round. Maybe losing now was the best option.

Johnny Rude: FUCKER!!!

Rude hits Hairy with a swinging DDT, sending his carpeted body to the mat again. But it was like Hairy didn't feel any of it. All he kept doing was planning out if he should fight on...or take the loss and the money. It isn't like he could retire for good after the loss. Three hundred thousand dollars is great for now...but it wouldn't be enough for Kelly and the kids to live off of.

Plus, Hairy would need his own money. They aren't a couple. Once he helps her out financially, they won't be staying together at her sister's place. Hairy actually wasn't too happy about not being around them. He was actually starting to fall for her...a little bit. But he had to get money. But is losing the best option?

Hairy: Just escape.

Rude, who's about to unleash a move we've never even heard of...seriously, it was going to be so amazing, internet chat rooms would have been buzzing all night about it. But Hairy spoke up and ruined it for everyone.

Rude, surprised that Hairy nonchalantly spoke...as if he's not even hurting...stops and looks down at Hairy's body in shock.

Johnny Rude: What the fuck did you say?

Hairy: I said...escape. End this.

Johnny Rude: WHAT?!?!

Hairy: GO! I won't stop you.

Johnny Rude: What the fuck? I knew you were a pussy.

Hairy: Just....go.

The thing was, Hairy wasn't doing it for the loss. He just knew that it would take a while to get out. He figured Rude put the key to the handcuffs in his boot, so it would take a moment to get the key out of the boot and then undo the cuffs and get a victory. So it would buy him time to recover a bit.

OR...it would make Rude despise Hairy even more...possibly making him think Hairy is softer than he thought...eventually making Rude not work as hard in the ring, leaving Hairy an opening soon.

Rude stood there and knew what he had to do.


Stan Daniels
Stan Daniels

Posts : 88
Join date : 2011-01-20

View user profile

Back to top Go down


Post  Stan Daniels on Fri Jan 21, 2011 4:06 pm


His body was on fire with pain. Blood ran down his form and coated his abs. His lungs burned from taking too many hard breaths. The Tube had taken a HELL of a lot out of the both of them. More than even Rude imagined. Now he stood accross from his opponent in complete puzzlement. Well, sort of. He had a good feeling that he should open the cage. That's what his first instinct was. And generally speaking, he followed his instincts. That said, he couldn't help but wonder just what in the hell was going on. There was a crucial piece to the puzzle that he just wasn't getting.

Then again, he didn't fully understand Hairy. On a basic, primal level, when he suggested the bamboo match and saw the smile on Hairy's face, he knew there was something akin to a connection between them. They'd never admit to that kind of connection and certainly wouldn't become friends over it. Both were too stubborn, angry, and prideful. At least...that's what Rude thought. And yet here Hairy was, willing to throw the match in one of the biggest tournaments in the wrestling world....but why? Johnny took a few steps closer and spoke.

Rude: ....Why?

Hairy: Why what?

Rude: ...Why are you doing this?

Hairy: Look, I know you're brain dead and all, but LOOK at me. I can barely stand thanks to that stupid tube shit.

Rude: I'm in the same boat you are....but I'm willing to fight it out.

Hairy: You're younger and much dumber than I am. Of course you have like...retard stamina.

Rude: ...So that's it, then? You're just gonna...let me walk away?

Hairy: Yes. That's exactly what I'm saying. Do you need me to write it in crayon? On a flashcard, maybe?

He didn't answer. Normally he'd respond with some wise ass remark. Not this time. No, his head was spinning too much for that. It spun with pain from the tube. It spun with the pressure that was on him to win that match. And most importantly, it spun because Hairy threw him for a fucking loop. It was almost too good to be true. And yet, he didn't see anything in the carpet covered fucker's eyes that said he was lying. And Rude was pretty good at reading people.

He turned his back on Hairy. It was a very deliberate, slow move. He didn't move to the cage door. No, not at first. Rude waited to see if Hairy would do something. And nothing came. He didn't even move from where he stood. Johnny continued walking toward the door. With each step he wondered when the other foot would drop. His heart thudded with worry. Once he was at the cage door, Johnny turned and looked at Hairy.

Rude: ...You're sure about this?

Hairy rolled his eyes. He sighed, bent his hand, and began to slap his chest.

Hairy: Duuuuuh! I dunno Wooode, whut do u tink? Derrrrr!

Rude frowned. He flipped him off. Hairy chuckled to himself. Johnny sighed and turned his back. He dropped to a knee and reached into his boot. Indeed, he DID keep a key there, just in case. He took it out of the boot and began to work on the lock. His hands shook a little. The loss of blood would do that to you. The Antichrist Superstar shook his head a few times to try and clear the haze from his vision. The agony was getting to him. It made it hard to concentrate. Johnny closed his eye and opened it again. He took several slow, deep breaths.

He dropped to a knee and focused on the lock. Finally, after a few tries, the key fit. One could make a sexual joke about Johnny being unable to get it into the hole. He twisted the lock. Hairy smirked as the lock opened. Johnny unwrapped the cuffs from the cage and cast them aside. Hairy's body began to tense. Holland watched from afar. Something wasn't right. Hairy didn't look like a man willing to give in all of a sudden. Before he could let out a word of warning, Hairy was on the attack. Johnny had opened the door wide. Hairy could win it all with a good shove. He closed the distance between them pretty quickly.

Rude heard the last footstep. It didn't matter though. Hairy had speared him. His body began to fall out of the cage. As it did, he knew he had but once chance to save this match. While Hairy was still close to him, a mere second or two after the spear had been executed, The King of Extreme grabbed onto any part of his opponent he could reach. As they fell, this time together, Johnny grunted and turned their bodies so that they would land on their sides. Simultaneously. Each wrestler cried out as their wounds were damaged from the fall. Holland blinked several times. They landed on the ground at the same time.

Holland: ...Wh-what did I just see?

Johnny and Hairy lied on the ground side by side. They didn't move much. They lied on the ground and writhed in pain. Hairy and Rude's chests heaved almost simultaneously as they sucked in deep breaths of air.

Rude: You...sneaky...FUCKER!

Hairy: You're the one....with the stupid...tube!

Rude: I am....so gonna...fuckin' kill you...

Hairy: The match is over...ass....hat.

Rude: Not...for me...it...isn't!

Holland didn't know what he should do. His first instinct was to try and help. At the same time, he knew how much the tournament meant to Rude. Sticking his nose in now would potentially piss him off. He also knew that he needed to get some kind of official involved in this. Technically, both men had just disqualified one another. That said, based on the threats they were shouting into the air, neither man seemed to care about the match itself. Holland looked at one of the guards and instructed them to find a ref.

Meanwhile, Hairy and Johnny were glaring at one another something fierce. It was all they could do for the moment. Glare, make threats, and imagine the kind of damage they would do to one another. Johnny closed his eye for a moment and took deeper breaths. On the last one, he held it and rolled onto his stomach. Once there, he exhaled, looked at the guard rail, and made a decision. He had to get up. He had to stand. And he had to do all of this soon so he could beat the ever living shit out of the sheisty bastard who screwed him out of the event.

Hairy was doing much the same. After a few minutes, both men were on their feet. Johnny reached over the rail and grabbed a hold of a chair. He turned and saw Hairy with one already in his paws, for lack of a better description. The two men glared at one another from opposite sides of the ringside area.

Rude: You...you fuckin' tricked me!

Hairy: And you tried to lock me in a stupid tube!

Rude: You're a dead man, you furry fuck! I don't even care about the tourney anymore. I am going to bash your brains in and smear them all over the arena! ARRRRRRGGHHHH!!

Hairy was pretty pleased with himself, over all. If he did DQ himself, than the money he promised was his. Which was good. In a way, he didn't really lose here. However, Johnny was now running at him. Well, hobbling quickly is the more accurate phrasing. And his one eye was raging with fury.

Captain One-Eye charged at Hairy, only to have Hairy step aside and have Rude run into the guard rail. Nothing major...but embarrassin.

Hairy: Hahaha...seriously, have you gotten worse? I've heard all the talk...but shit, it's like the time I left a national to help out the regional wrestlers...and I got scheduled against a newbie. YOU...won a One World Championship? YOU?

Rude stands with his back to Hairy....looking down at his blood-covered hands clutch onto the top of the guard rail. His middle knuckle isn't covered in blood...but is white. That's how damn hard he's squeezing. The anger fills his body again....and his one eye.

Speaking of eyes, Battlestone likes to take it in the brown eye.

But back to Johnny Rude.

Hairy's comments struck a nerve. Again, Rude thought back to the interview...where he knocked out the interviewer after the questions that the fans submitted. He shook his head...hoping to shake the thoughts out, but all he could see as he looked at his bloody hand was the word FAIL spelled out on his fist again. Deja Vu.

Hairy couldn't help but smile as he stared at the back of Rude's head. He knew he was wearing him down mentally. Sure, Rude would be enraged and it would give him an energy boost. But it could also throw him off his game, which is what Hairy was planning on.

What happened, however, was Rude dishing it right back. The man did his homework.

Holland saw Hairy's smile turn upside down instantly. He didn't hear what Rude said, but even Hairy's eyes looked different.

He then glanced at a now-smiling Johnny Rude, which made Holland smile.

Thankfully, the cameras were close enough to pick up the sound on the replay. Johnny Rude had turned around and stared right at Hairy...and said,

Johnny Rude: You didn't tell me Kelly was a screamer. She kept telling me no, but I knew she meant yes. Her screams were her just asking for an encore.

As already mentioned, Hairy's smile vanished and his eyes looked stoned. He couldn't believe what he heard. Sure, he figured Rude was full of shit...but the fact is, he knows about Kelly.

Hairy: What the fuck did you say?

Johnny Rude: Kelly. I fucked her. I'm just surprised you haven't tapped into that, yet. Since she's just using you for your money, I figured she'd at least put out to make sure you still helped her.

It was Hairy, now, that was starting to get pissed off.

Just when you think Rude is about to lose momentum and get topped in mind games...he throws out this bombshell.

Hairy: Fuck that. You never touched her. You're married.

Johnny Rude: Good point. No married guys have EVER fucked another woman that wasn't their wife. It NEVER happens.

The sarcasm was dripping, it was laid on so thick. Also, blood was dripping down Rude's cheek. His tongue creeped out and licked a drop as he smiled at Hairy's miserable looking face.

Hairy: You're full of shit. I'm positive you never touched her...but still, how the hell do you know who she is? How'd you find out about it?

Still smiling and cocky as ever...

Johnny Rude: I'm Johnny Fucking Rude.

Hairy: Weird, I always thought your middle name started with a "B".

Johnny Rude: ....

Hairy: ....

Thankfully, he just continues on.

Johnny Rude: You realize how bad I want to win this? I did my homework, Hairy. I know EVERYTHING about you.

Hairy: Shoe size?

Johnny Rude: 12.

Hairy: Penis size?

Johnny Rude: Surprisingly...nine inches.

Hairy: What song did I sing to my Uncle Fuzzy on the last birthday he was alive for?

Johnny Rude: Happy Birthday.

Hairy: Lucky guess.

The exchange goes on no more. At least...not the guessing game aprt.

Johnny Rude: Seriously, you are a broke piece of shit. Look at yourself. You miserable douche. Even when you were in your prime, you won NOTHING big. You think at the age of 98, you can come back here and just come to the best federation TODAY and beat me? Holy hell, you delusional fucker.

Hairy's mind was racing. Jumping from one thought to another. From one comment to another. He had no idea what to say...what to do.

Hairy: I....

Returning the retard response back.

Johnny Rude: Derrrr...I no likey...I angry...I broke mother fucking piece of shit who can't even get laid by a girl that's using me for my money.

Hairy swallowed some of his own blood that he was creating as his teeth clenched in harder to his lower lip to help control the anger. He wanted to hide the frustration from Johnny...but Rude knew he had Hairy at the moment.

Johnny Rude: Seriously, after I kick the shit out of you in about 20 seconds from now, scrape your body off the concrete and any dignity that might be leaking out with the blood...and leave this business. If you need money, I'll give you a couple bucks and even pay for your flight back. Seriously, even I would do that...because it's just too sad to see your career end like this. Just when I thought your shitty career couldn't get more pathetic, you come back and do this shit? And then I find out why you came back...you try to be some true hero to a girl and her three sons...and you fail at that, too. It's like a fucking movie. And it's such a shitty movie that Keanu Reeves would have to play your part. Although when I get done with you, they are better off scripting Christopher Reeves dead, limp body to play you.

Hairy had enough. But Rude isn't a total numbnuts, expecting the charge. Again...a Deja Vu moment. This time, however, roles were reversed. Last time, Hairy moved out of Rude's way. No damage done, really...but he dodged the attack.

Same thing this time, but with Rude dodging Hairy's charge. Unlike Hairy, however, Rude didn't just let him stand there and stare down at his hands. Rude drove his fist into the left kidney area of Hairy, causing the legend **yeah, I called myself that** to drop down onto his left knee...trying to absorb the pain. His eyes winced and his teeth grinded together.

Johnny Rude: Kelly made that same face when I drilled it into her from behind.

Rude kicks the other side in the same area, causing Hairy to drop that leg, too...so now he's on both knees.

Johnny Rude: Turn around so I can remind myself of the other day when Kelly was on both of her knees staring at my groin. She's so petite...I wasn't sure if she could even open her mouth that wide.

Hairy didn't turn around. He stayed facing the railing...in pain...

For a man that keeps telling himself that Rude is full of shit, he can't help but get pissed off. He's ignoring himself. BIG mistake.

Rude sees a piece of broken glass just a few feet away. Reminents from the Tube...he picks it up and looks at Hairy. How creative does he want to get with this? Just a stab? A carving? A hair cut? Hell, he had already colored his hair pink and already embarrassed him about and his liking of cocks.

Before we can see what Rude would do, a referee steps out alongside Holland. Rude catches the movement out of the corner of his eye.

Johnny Rude: Well...?!?!

He looks at the official, waiting to see if the match is over...if both were DQ'd...what would happen.

Hairy can't stand up, but he drops from his knees and just sits down on his ass and faces the direction of the official and Rude.

Johnny Rude: Stop wasting my time.

Holland: Hey, I walked with the guy the entire way, and he wouldn't even say "hi" to me.

The official makes sure Hairy and Rude are looking at him before he starts. He has their attention and he lets them know the verdict.

Official: In cage matches here in Fed X, a double DQ or a double count out...whatever the case may be, the match is declared over and therefore, we have no winner.

In Johnny's mind, he just punched an infant.

Johnny Rude: You mother fucker!!!

He glares right at Hairy, who smiles.

Official: HOWEVER...

In Johnny's mind, he kisses that infant on the forehead....he LOVES "howevers"...

Official: ...since this is a tournament that requires a winner in each matchup...the match will start over with me here to officiate. At least...the King of the Cage portion starts over. It's up to Mr. Rude if he wants to put the Bloo...


Johnny Rude: Yeah...it's on the line again.

He's like a kid watching his first porn. So excited. Knowing he's not out of it yet. The voices in his head are going NUTS.

As the official starts to head to the ring through the now opened door, Hairy speaks up causing him to stop in his tracks.

Hairy: What if...

The ref looks back at Hairy...and Rude just starts shaking his head. What the fuck will Hairy do now to piss him off?

Hairy: ....What if I refuse to fight right now. Since the match hasn't officially started, what if I want to just refuse to fight right now and demand it starts at it's scheduled time?

Johnny Rude: You...

The official cuts off the rude one...

Official: Well...

Even the official is stumped for a moment...but realizes what the response has to be.

Official: I suppose I'd have to grant that request. I'm certain we can't force this match to start when you technically are scheduled to fight later on today in front of a paying audience.

Hairy: Hmmmm...

Rude wants to fight now. Hairy, however, couldn't care less about that. He knows Rude wants to fight now.

Johnny Rude: Man up, you fucking woman.

Hairy: Well...I fight to entertain the fans...

Hairy stands up and looks around at the empty arena.

Hairy: Where are the fans? They deserve to see this fight after forking out all that cash to come here and watch it.

Johnny Rude: Don't give me that bullshit.

Hairy: I'm serious. I don't think I want to fight right now. Fuck it. I'm heading back to my lockerroom. I'll see you in a few hours, Mr. Rude.

There he went. Up the ramp...about to exit. Rude couldn't even speak. He was shocked at the fact a guy would just walk away from a fight like this.

Johnny Rude: Ugh...

That's all he could get out for the moment. With each step Hairy took, Rude's jaw dropped even more.

What Rude didn't see was the huge smile on Hairy's face as he reached the top of the ramp.

Was Hairy really going to wait?

Was Rude really going to just let him leave?

Dun DUN DUNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Rude's fists clenched. Hairy was walking up the ramp with a smile on his face that said he was a winner. In a way, he was. At least the moral battle. Which might not be so hard considering who he was up against. The referee had said that the match would start at a later time. Which meant that both men would have a chance to heal before the real fight began. Rude considered the pros and cons of this. As Hairy walked up the ramp way, Johnny Rude spoke.

Rude: That's right, faggot! Tuck your tail between your vag lips and go home!

Hairy didn't respond at first. He stopped, turned, and looked at his foe. He gave Johnny this strange, condescending look. As if he pitied The Antichrist Superstar. He then shook his head and went through the curtain. Johnny blinked several times. What. The. Fuck. It was now, in this moment, that he had grossly underestimated his opponent. Hairy had proven to be an extraordinarily cunning foe. And while he swore he was on the verge of seeing his opponent go feral at the mention of Kelly, somehow, he reigned it all in. It was almost respectable.

If it wasn't so god damned annoying. Johnny Rude grabbed a chair and slammed it against the ground. He screamed and he cursed to any and all who would hear him. He then dropped to his knees and looked at the ground. What had he done wrong? How could Hairy...fuckin' HAIRY of ALL people...get over on him? Oh, sure he COULD chase the fuzzy bastard down and fight anyway but...what's the point? It would count for nothing. At least, that's what he thought at the time. He stared at the ground. Drops of blood fell from his wounds and onto the ground below.

In the small pool which formed, he saw his own reflection. He blinked once, twice, and then he smiled. An idea came to mind. One which would change this match completely. He began to chuckle. It was small at first. It hurt him a little to do it. And then, gradually, it burst into full-blown maniacal laughter. It came on so strongly that he let himself fall completely to the ground. He held his sides as a tear trickled from his eye. After a few minutes, he managed to calm himself down. Holland stood over him and looked completely vexed by what happened.

Holland: I know you've taken some punishment, but....are you feeling okay?

Rude: Holland, my dear boy....Hairy just gift wrapped me the win.

Holland: ...I'm not so sure I follow.

Rude: Oh, you'll see. Trust me...they'll all see.

He pushed himself up slowly. His body was on fire. It felt horrible and at the same time, he kind of liked it a bit. Rude hobbled back to the cage and climbed up the steps. He climbed into the ring and walked to the very center of it. Johnny then sat down in the middle of the ring indian style and closed his eye.

Holland: What the hell are you doing?

Rude: I'm staying here. Be a friend and send a medic here to patch me up, would you?

Holland: What purpose does it serve to stay in the ring?

Rude paused a moment and smirked.

Rude: I have a plan, Holland. Now do me a huge favor...when you get that medic....go in my locker room. The last locker on the right has a fake wall in it. Push it back and bring me the black bag you find there. I have some...tools in there.

Holland: I can manage that. I just have one question...

Rude: Shoot from the hip, soldier.

Holland: Just what do you intend to do?

Rude: Why Holland...it's obvious, isn't it? I'm changing the rules.

Later that night...Rude was still in the ring. The lights came on and everyone saw him there. He hadn't changed. Dried blood and sweat caked his clothing and body. In all probability, he stunk to high heaven. But more important than that was the fact that one of the ring posts had been completely wrapped in barbed wire thanks to what was left in the tube. Beyond that, a black bag rested by The King of Extreme's side. Everyone stared at him with a mix of wonder, disgust, and hatred. Johnny opened his eyes and looked out to the crowd.

He then stood up and dusted himself off. He motioned for the announcer to hand him a microphone. The announcer did so, but he had to slide it through the ring. Johnny took it and began pacing around the ring. The fans were here, which was good. Hairy fought best when he was fighting for the people. He wanted to break Hairy in two infront of thousands of fans. He wanted the people to see their hero die. The wounds he had sustained earlier had closed and were a little better now then they had been before. He wouldn't be a marathon runner anytime soon but he could fight.

Johnny raised the microphone to his lips and spoke.

Johnny: Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I am Johnny B. Rude, and I welcome you all to the FIRST ROUND of the King of the Cage. Tonight, you will see me break a "legend" in two. Although why he is considered a legend, I'll never know. It's not like he's ever done anything of any kind of noteworthiness. Of course, you all know who I'm talking about. The walking nutsack known as Hairy.

The fans popped. Despite his perverted nature and brazen attitude, he was beloved. It was bizarre. Johnny observed the people as they cheered and chanted his name. He could feel the bile beginning to creep up the back of his neck. They were absolutely disgusting, the lot of them. He continued.

Johnny: As you all can plainly see, I got into a fight earlier today. And everything was going well, but the fuzzy fuck got the upper hand on me. Which PISSES ME THE HELL OFF!

The fans popped again. They loved it when a villain was falling. And that seemed to be all Rude was doing these days. The words, "Fail, fail, fail," echoed in the back of his mind. He shook his head and pretended to ignore it. It didn't work well.

Johnny: Thankfully, I am a patient man. I can accept a minor...setback, every now and then. And Hairy, that's all our little "brawl" was, a setback. Because now you've outright screwed yourself. How, you ask? Well it's simple, really: You gave me time. Your best chance to beat me was when I was trying to use brute force. Now though? Now you've given me time to plan. Now you've given me time to tip all the odds in my favor. And...and you should pay attention to this one...you've given me the BIGGEST forum possible to air your dirty fucking laundry.

The fans cried out. This time, it wasn't a pop of adoration. It was the roaring chorus of shock and anticipation? Hairy with dirty laundry? The man once had a gay threesome on live TV. He was a self-admitted and public pervert. Just what could he possibly have to hide? Rude knew. Even if he was lying, he could spin it and make everyone believe it to be true. He could make everyone believe that Kelly had slept with him. Of course, the only one who really needed to believe it was Hairy...and Johnny was sure that mission was fuckin' accomplished.

Especially when Hairy saw the doctored photos which were plastered all over his locker room walls. Boy, was HE ever in for a shocker. Rude waited for his opponent and couldn't help but think of how sad the whole scene would be. An annonymous call to Kelly by Syren was all it took to make the young girl believe Hairy needed to see her for a BIG ANNOUNCEMENT. The two would be lovers were on a crash course...and it was all according to plan.

Johnny Rude.


The two were just going back and forth. Whether it was physically destroying each other...or mentally.

Just when one man seems down and out...**insert John Madden BOOM! sound**...they say or do something that changes the momentum in their favor.


That was the noise Hairy made when he walked into his lockerroom after returning from the doctor.

It didn't really say EVERYTHING he was actually thinking...but you understand how he felt. There...on the walls...were photos.

Rude's plan B was right there, taped up, thanks to Holland.

Holland took that black bag of Rudes and saw the photos. He read the note from Johnny that was left in there for him:


Yes, I wrote a fucking note. Shut up. Listen, if you are reading this note, then I am already dead. Heh! Actually, open the envelope and enjoy the pictures. Once you are done, clean off your white substance from the pictures and take them to Hairy's lockerroom and tape them up to his walls. Trust me, if I told you to get this bag, this HAS to be done. This means Hairy surprised the hell out of me and I have to really fuck with him to get him off of his old, shitty game.


A piece of shit called for you and wants its smell back."

Holland read it and obliged with the man's request. Which leads us to the noise you heard Hairy make.

Kelly, whose face is on the body of a lady that isn't her, appears to be having sex with Johnny Rude.

Adobe will pay for this once Hairy finds out. Damn you Photoshop! But Hairy, as of now, has no idea this is fake. What he thinks he knows is that his doubts are now true. He thought FOR SURE Rude was full of shit with his comments about Kelly. But now...he took the bait.

Was he turned on, however? Fuck yeah...but the anger was too much for Hairy. He stormed out of his lockerroom, slamming the door shut behind him. The sound echoes through the hallway as Hairy marches on. Looking for Johnny Rude...figuring he had left the ring a long time ago to heal up for the match.

Little did he know that Rude was in the ring.

After several minutes of searching, Hairy stopped to take a breather. He looked down at the bandages covering his body...the whiteness now soaked in the color of crimson as the blood started seaping through. He was getting light headed again...but had to find Johnny.

He had lost track of time during this search. But like any good fed, there are TV's on display in the cafeteria, where Hairy walked through. That's when he noticed Rude on the TV. Hairy quickly looked at the clock on the wall.

Hairy:: Holy fuck....

He was unaware the card had started. He listened to Rude comment...and then headed to the ring in a hurry after hearing Johnny say "you've given me the BIGGEST forum possible to air your dirty fucking laundry."

It felt like the longest walk EVER. He couldn't get to the ring fast enough. During the walk, he tried to figure out Rude's plan. Is he going to tell everyone about the money problems...his accountant killing himself...Hairy falling for his accountant's wife...what the fuck was Johnny going to say.

Rude stood there waiting...looking at his wrist like he's timing Hairy, even though he has no watch on.

Johnny Rude:: Tick Tock, Hairy. Tick fucking Tock.

Sure enough, an out-of-breath furball stood at the top of the entrance ramp, huffing and puffing but not blowing any houses down.

Hairy:: What the fuck are you doing?

Rude cupped his hand and placed it around his ear. Hairy didn't have a microphone, so Rude couldn't hear the furball.

Thankfully, a ring crew member ran a mic up the ramp to Hairy. The crowd was surprisingly dead quiet...hanging on every breath their Hairy took.

Johnny Rude:: Speak up, shit stain.

Hairy:: Fuck you.

There, the microphone worked. Some parents covered the ears of their little ones in the crowd. Like it mattered. If they are dumb enough to bring their kid to this type of event, I'm sure the kid already knows the words and probably got illegally touched by an uncle, anyways.

Johnny Rude:: Fuck me?

Hairy:: Did I tell you that you are taking your last breath of air tonight?

Johnny Rude:: Oh oh...is little Hairy upset? Did little Hairy get all angry because of Big Johnny?

Hairy:: You sound like a fucking idiot.

Rude just smiled. The crowd still wasn't making a noise. What would Johnny tell them about Hairy?

Johnny Rude:: You see Hairy...

As Rude talked, Hairy slowly walked towards the ring.

Johnny Rude:: ...you screwed up BIG time. You should have kept fighting earlier. You had at least a chance...albeit a small chance...to maybe defeat me. But now, that small chance you had just vanished like Battlestone's penis in a sheep's butt.

A 12 year old girl in the crowd pukes. Hairy reaches the bamboo cage and stands there looking in at Johnny. All the while, he's observing everything around him....like which weapons are on the top of the bamboo.

He's coming up with a game plan. He somehow has kept his cool well enough that he hasn't attacked Rude, yet. It's remarkable.

Johnny Rude:: But before I go any further...I'd like to bring a guest down to the ring. Hairy, you might know her...

Syren steps out first and then looks back, as Kelly steps out. Her innocent smile as she sees Hairy. But the smile goes away after the setting really...sets in for her.

Nervously, she follows Syren to the ring. She reaches Hairy and grabs his hand. Neither one apparently has a fucking clue as to what Rude is going to say. Hairy accepts her hand and follows her into the ring, but makes sure he stays back from Rude...not knowing what he'll do next. Syren stands on the other side of Kelly...

Johnny Rude:: Hairy...Kelly...thank both of you for coming here tonight.

His cocky smile lights up the arena.

Hairy:: Fuck you.

Johnny Rude:: Now now...is that anyway to talk to me? I'm here to help you guys out. You see...Kelly...Hairy just found out about you and me.

Kelly's face says it all. It's the "What the hell are you talking about" look that girls do all too well.

Hairy turns his head to Kelly...releasing his grasp of her hand. Seeing her walk towards him....it made him forget that he saw photos of her fucking Rude. Must be the blood loss. But they no longer were holding hands. Hairy actually took a step away from her as he looked at her while Rude continued on.

Johnny Rude:: Kelly....Hairy wasn't too happy to see the photos of us.

Kelly:: What photos?

She had no idea what photos he was talking about.

Hairy:: The one of you and him...doing it.

Kelly just looks at Hairy, not knowing what the hell to say.

Hairy:: Why? I mean....we're not a couple....so I'm not expecting you to not have sex...but I thought we had something...maybe.

Johnny Rude:: Hairy, notice she didn't deny it.

Hairy looks at Rude and takes a step in his direction...but he stops himself from attacking him. He's not sure if he's more upset at Rude or at Kelly.

Johnny Rude:: Come here, Hairy. I've got something to show you. Don't worry...I won't hit you.

Hairy takes a step...but realizes Johnny isn't holding anything to show Hairy.

Hairy:: What are you going to show me?

Johnny Rude:: That.

He points to Kelly. Hairy turns, only to be drilled in the face with a cloud of pepper spray.

Holding the pepper spray was Kelly. The crowd let out a deafening chorus of boos. But what was weird was Kelly's reaction. She was crying. Hairy covered his eyes in pain from the pepper spray. Syren handed Kelly a tire iron. Kelly reluctantly took it and looked at Hairy as he stood right in front of her, blinded.

She looked down at the tire iron in her hand...then up at Hairy.

Johnny Rude:: Do it!

She looks at Rude...then at Hairy. WHACK!

Hairy dropped to the mat. But just as fast, Kelly dropped the tire iron and took off. She exited the ring.

Why did she do this? What made her do it?

The answer stood at the top of the ramp. Holland...holding a black bag. Unzipping it, he held it up and showed Kelly the money inside of it. She saw it as she ran up the ramp towards him. Tears rolling down her cheeks as she arrived in front of Holland. She grabbed the bag of cash and left the scene.

It was obvious she didn't want to do it. But in tough times...you need to do things to make money, whether you want to do it or not.

Hairy didn't see the tears. For all he knew...she loved every minute of this. But he was out. His eyes burned...but the tire iron kinda hurt, too.

Rude's laughter echoed throughout the arena. His eyes teared up from laughing so hard.

Johnny Rude:: Fucking classic! Look at your sorry ass. If you people only KNEW what a loser this guy was. And look...someone special in his left chose money over him.

Johnny was right. Hairy had sealed his fate. He basically gift-wrapped this match for Johnny.

You see, Hairy's emotionally destroyed. His heart was just ripped out in front of millions of people watching. This is what made Rude one of the best. The guy goes into matches like this with 800 plans. And when one of those plans doesn't work out...or looks to be heading in the wrong direction, he's got another 800 options.

This plan, however, is working perfectly. Or so...he thought.

He won the big battle of mind games. No doubt about it. Hairy was destroyed.

But if Johnny's ultimate goal was to win the King of the Cage...he might have fucked up big time. Now...he was going against an opponent that's never been lower than he is right now. He's going against a guy that probably wants to kill him. He's going against a guy that can't possibly feel any more pain after that. Johnny's opponent is now an opponent that would honestly fight to the death right now. He could care less if he lives or dies now. But he knew one thing...he wanted to make sure Johnny felt some pain, too.

Perhaps Rude's plan wasn't as perfect as he thought.

Then again...as Hairy knew he wanted to get up and kill Rude....there was still one big problem.

He can't fucking see.

Don't worry...not another Nailbone clip. But with everything going through Hairy's mind...Nailbone's advice is far from being thought about. Hairy's screwed right now.

And the worst part is...the bell rings to officially start the match since both men are in the ring.

Syren exits the cage and an official shuts the door.

Joining Holland at the top of the ramp, Syren smiles at the plan of Johnny B. Rude.

Holland:: The man amazes me.

Hairy, however, stands before Rude...blind and swinging wildly. Johnny can't help but laugh again. It's almost sad...but not really. Rude bends down and picks up the tire iron Kelly so rudely dropped.

Johnny Rude:: You're out of your league, fuzzball.

It appearred Rude was right.

Hairy seemed to be out of his league.

He watched as Hairy flailed about helplessly. His logical mind told him to strike. It told him to attack him, knock him out, and escape. The match was well within his grasp. He didn't even have to beat on Hairy to win now. All he had to do was walk to a cage wall, climb up, and exit. The first round would be over and he could focus on the second. And yet, he wasn't doing any of that. Instead, he watched as Hairy swung in the dark. He was furious. Foam dripped from his mouth. Had Hairy not been blinded, Johnny may have been worried. Right now though, he was anything but.

No, what was coming over him was pure sadistic glee. Screw logic. Logic couldn't understand what was transpiring here tonight. It didn't understand the pure elation one could feel from another's misfortune. Holland and Syren were in awe of the orchestra of sorrow that Rude had conducted for Hairy. They didn't think Johnny would put that much thought against someone like Hairy. After all, everyone overlooked Hairy. He was the funny guy. The crude but loveable pervert. No one expected him to get far in this event.

No one except Johnny Rude. It was something he had seen in the man's eyes weeks ago. This wasn't same man who everyone laughed along with all those years. No, this was a changed being. One determined to break the shackles of his past reputation and prove a point to the world. Johnny could relate to that all too well. For he himself had once had a reputation, and it wasn't particularly shining. And it was because of what he knew someone like Hairy COULD do that he made any and every effort to break him in two.

And now...now he was reaping the rewards of his dirty deeds.

John: I can't believe what we've just seen here. Johnny Rude has LITERALLY torn that poor man's life apart! How could he be so cold?

Hank: HELLO! The bastard set Karissa Rain's HEAD ON FIRE! What did you expect him to do? Give Hairy a hug and a kiss?

John: I know he's wicked but...this...this is wrong. Look at him! He isn't even fighting Hairy! He's just closing in, ducking blind swings, and smacking him. He's literally toying with the man!

Hank: Honestly John, I can't blame him. The man's plan was brillaint. Of course he's going to rub his obvious superiority in Hairy's face. It's just the kind of animal he is.

This was quite true. Hairy took another blind swing. His target ducked and spat on his face. Hairy growned and lunged forward. Rude took a side step and watched as his opponent hit the mat with a thud. He shook his head and chuckled. God, this was amazing. The adrenaline was pumping through his veins, and he hadn't even started fighting again. Rude walked over to his opponent very slowly. Hairy may be blind, but that was no reason for him not to be cautious. Johnny kicked Hairy in the ribs and in doing so caused him to land on his back. His eyes were swollen from the spray. The Antichrist Superstar drove boot after boot into the poor man's chest.

He then stopped. Johnny walked over to the wall of the bamboo cage. He made as if he was going to climb it. The fans were watching with hate in their jeers. Rude climbed all the way to the very top of the cage. When it looked as though he was going to climb out, he shot the double bird to the fans. They jeered and began to throw trash at him. And then Rude did something which he would regret later. He had it in the bag. He could cross over now and be done with it. Johnny turned and looked at his broken foe. God, he was pathetic. Johnny almost felt sorry for him, almost. And while he could leave and claim his rightful place for the next round...doing it this way wouldn't satisfy him.

He dropped back down into the ring. No, not satisfying at all. After all, what would they say when they looked back at the match? Rude mind fucked Hairy and then ran like a bitch? Or, worse yet, Acid Ed wouldn't have bailed after breaking his foe. And Johnny FUCKING hated Acid Ed. He was the current Bloodsport Champ and because of this, people were comparing the two of them. He hated it. Even in death, Ed wouldn't stop screwing with him. If he left now...people would call him a watered down version of Ed. They'd call him pathetic, chickenshit, so on and so forth. No, it couldn't end like this. Acid Ed would have stuck around to physically break the man as well. So too then, would Johnny Rude.

Hank: What is Johnny doing!? He could have won. He could have won right then and there! Is he fuckin' insane!? Hairy's finished, done for, why isn't he climbing?

John: Because he's an animal, partner. He's an animal and he isn't finished playing with his food. The sick bastard wants to add insult to injury and there isn't anything Hairy can do about it!

Hank: Rude's pulling him up now. Is he going for an Obscenity? Maybe he's going to toss him into that barbwire wrapped turnbuckle? Oh man, whatever he's going to do, it's gonna be brutal!

John: You say that as if it's a good thing! Hairy's life has just been torn apart!

Hank: I know! Can you imagine the ratings we're getting? Take THAT Wrassle Network! Ha!

Rude began to whip him toward the ring post. The image of Hairy's body colliding into the twisted barbed steel made him smile. Sad for him though, that it would only remain an image. Whether it was a matter of training or instinct, Hairy did something no one really expected of him. He whipped The Rudeness into the very corner his opponent planned on trapping him in. Johnny let out a blood curdling scream as the wire tore into his flesh. It re-opened some of his older wounds. Blood spurted on to the ring post. And worse yet, Johnny's arm was caught in the wire. He froze. He knew he couldn't move quickly. If he did, the wire would tear his bicep to shreds. He couldn't have that.

Meanwhile, Hairy was rubbing his eyes. He was rubbing them a lot. Rude's heart skipped a beat. No, no, no! It was slipping out of his hands! Johnny had to calm himself. If he let panic rule him, all he'd do is further entangle himself in the fire. He took deep breath after deep breath. As he did this, Johnny kept an eye on his opponent. One of the members of security approached the cage. Quite obviously a fuckin' Hairy mark. He tossed a bottle of water through the bamboo bars. Hairy felt something touch his furry foot. He reached down and grabbed it. He then felt it much like a blind man would. Realizing what it was, opened the bottle and began to pour it into his eyes.

Johnny: Nooooooooo! Nooooooo! GOD FUCKING DAMN YOU! STOP IT, STOP IT NOOW!!

John: It looks like Hairy isn't out of this yet! And just look at the terror in Johnny Rude's eyes! It's precious!

Hank: Hey, what happened to being impartial, ass?

John: I think Rude deserves every bit of what he's going to get! He's played with too many lives not to. It's a little thing called justice. Not that you'd understand much about that.

Hank: What you call justice, I call a travesty! It's a matter of perspective, I swear.

Rude watched as Hairy rubbed his eyes. He blinked a few times and then looked at his foe. Johnny's heart was thudding violently in his chest. He swore it almost felt like a heart attack. A smile curved Hairy's lips. Johnny's arm was still trapped. Worse yet, he was no closer to freeing himself, either. Rude's eye widened and he raised his other hand up. He smiled as sweetly as he could. He then spoke.

Johnny: Listen....Hairy...I'm trapped. You could win right now. You'd like that, right?

Hairy doesn't respond. He just walks closer and closer. Rude felt like a fly on the cusp of getting his wings torn off.

Johnny: Hairy, you're a good guy. People like you. You like Golden Girls porn. We know all this, it's what makes you so...appealing. Just walk out. Fuck it, go for it. I don't mind. No, not at all. Let's just call it quits, yeah?

Johnny extends a hand. Hairy takes it...and breaks his pinky.


The sound of the pinky cracking was fucking fantastic.

It actually made Hairy feel younger...to when he first started in the business and thought Hardcore Wrestling and hardcore porn was what life was all about.

His matches against old legends like Ironfist...worthless wannabe legends like Xtacee...or just worthless like Justinsane....those matches where Hairy did anything he could to hurt his opponent.

He thrived off of watching his opponent wince in pain. So seeing Johnny in pain was bringing it all back. And now...Hairy could give a rat's ass what the fuck happens. After what Rude did to Hairy...or so Hairy thinks Rude did, Hairy doesn't care anymore.

John Paragon: Look at those eyes on Hairy.

Hank Proctner: I would, but it's hard not to notice his boner right now.

True story.

John Paragon: Doesn't surprise me that you are staring down there.

Hairy looks at the awkward looking pinky of Johnny Rude. It bends at the knuckle, causing the top part of it to face outward now.

Johnny was hurt...pissed...desperate...and a fucking douche. He couldn't even try to ease the pain of the broken pinky thanks to his other arm being stuck in the barb wire on the ring post.

Hairy can't help but notice that and decides to get REALLY hardcore...maybe.

Hairy: So Johnny...wanna play a game?

Rude noticed the weird look in Hairy's eyes. Sure, the fact they were bloodshot and swollen thanks to the pepper spray was weird enough. But even through all that...you could see the change in the man.

Johnny Rude: What now?

Johnny had hoped it didn't involve anything sexual.

Hairy: It's called...guess how much blood I'll lose when Hairy rips open my bicep with the barb wire...

Johnny Rude: That's a long fucking title for a game.

Hairy: Touche, Johnny. I enjoy the comedy right before the tragedy.

Hairy places his hands around Johnny's neck. Afraid to move, Johnny let's the furry palms reside there. And not really looking forward to having his pinky connect with Hairy...he's out of options. Kicking will only cause his flesh to be ripped open from the wire.

Johnny Rude: Seriously...don't do this. Just get the damn victory.

Hairy: I don't want just a victory, now. I want to make sure you'll regret doing what you did to Kelly.

Johnny Rude: I...I never did it. It's all fake.

John Paragon: No way! Is he serious?

Hank Proctner: He'll say anything at this point, John. It's hard to say what's the truth anymore.

Hairy just shakes his head.

Hairy: You expect me to fall for that shit?

Johnny Rude: Well...you did fall for the fake pictures of me and Kelly...so yeah, I believe you'll pretty much fall for anything now.

Hairy: You really want to make fun of the guy that could easily put your ass on the shelf for several months with one simple push or pull?

Johnny Rude: Hairy...seriously...it's all a fucking joke to mess with your head. I'm Johnny Rude...fucking your mind up is what I'm all about, Hairy.

The sweat from the nervousness started mixing in with all the dried up blood on Johnny's forehead as it dripped down around his eyes and down his cheeks. Hairy doesn't take his hands off of Johnny's neck...not like it matters since he's not choking him yet. He just stands there...thinking.

Yeah, mark it in your calendar, the furry dipshit actually thought.

John Paragon: It wouldn't surprise me if Johnny had the photos made up to piss off Hairy. I think I actually believe him.

Hank Proctner: Either way, the big question is...what will Hairy do?

The crowd let out a sick scream just a second after Hank asked the question. Hairy grabbed Rude's neck and pulled him out from the corner, causing the wire to tear through the flesh and bicep. Blood flowed and Johnny was screaming in pain.

Hairy: If they are real or not...the fact you'd even put me through this makes you deserve that, fucker.

John Paragon: Good lord! Get a medic!

Hank Proctner: Rude just lost! I can't believe he lost to Hairy. After all the smack talk he was....talking....and to lose to the man? Wow.

What Hairy did next, however, was maybe even more shocking. He saw Rude placing his hand with the broken pinky over the new wound. Picking up a piece of glass under the ropes from earlier, Hairy walks over to Rude.

John Paragon: DON'T DO IT!!!

Hank Proctner: He's going to carve him up now. Stop the madness!

He bent down to Rude, who couldn't even stop Hairy now.

He brought the glass down to Rudes throat and slit straight down to his nuts.


Hank Proctner: NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Battlestone: **masturbates**

Johnny Rude: NOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Hairy: Shut up, pussy.

Johnny soon realizes Hairy didn't carve him up. He just cut Rude's blood covered shirt up and then pulled it off of him.

Hairy: Let me wrap that up to stop some of the bleeding.

Between the wincing...and moaning...and screaming...and groaning from the pain, Rude asked...

Johnny Rude: Why? Why the fuck would you do that and then bandage the damn thing up?

Hairy: Trust me, you're still going to lose some blood with this on. I pulled you to fuck up your arm because you deserve it. Everyone you've fucked with, I hope, had their TiVo's set so they can rewatch that over and over and over. I'm bandaging you up because no way in hell am I letting them call this match right now.

Before Rude can respond, Hairy delivers an closed fist to Johnny Rude's nose, knocking him out for a few seconds.

Hank Proctner: ILLEGAL CLOSED FIST! This match should be called RIGHT NOW! Rude should be the winner.

John Paragon: Really? After all that we've seen from these two, and you think a closed fist should be the reason this match is called?

Hank Proctner: I didn't make up the rules.

Thanks to Boy Scouts, Hairy ties a perfect knot to hold the shirt in place. Scout Leader Art Holle would be proud of Hairy right now. And he is.

The camera gets a shot of his old fat ass in row 3 holding a sign that says "Hairy is a Trooper!"

Johnny Rude: Ugh...

Rude's eyes remained shut...but he was still feeling the pain. Hairy stood over Rude and realized that the crowd was giving him a standing ovation.

Hank Proctner: The fact these people would cheer such a thing...makes me believe a crappy movie like Running Man will actually occur in this country some day. Just sick.

Hairy looks up at the entrance ramp to see Holland and Syren's reactions. Priceless.

Hairy: You fuckers are next.


Hairy, now, could go for victory, but he didn't bandage that up to just exit the cage. He goes to the corner with the barb wire. Why that corner? Because he sees a weapon up above there that he wants to use.

John Paragon: He's eyeing up the barb wire covered baseball bat...well...I don't know if I can watch this anymore if he uses that.

Hank Proctner: Hey, the thing is, somebody actually created the concept of this match. Hairy's just a pawn in their game. As much as I hate him right now, he's just trying to win and entertain like he gets paid to do. And we now know he needs to get paid, right John?

John Paragon: Very true, Hank. Sad, but true.

Hairy climbs and grabs ahold of the bat...only to stop at the top because he hears Holland's voice. Sure, Holland knows Rude will probably get pissed that he came to the ring, but he can't let this just happen like this.

Holland: He was telling you the truth, Hairy. It was all made up. He never even laid a hand on her. Hell, this was the first time he ever saw her...tonight...when she walked out here.

Hairy's hand let go of the bat and he climbed down until he feet were back on the mat. He looked at Holland...

Hairy: You really think that matters now? I'm just doing what 99% of the population has wanted to see Rude go through for a LONG time. I just feel bad about one other thing that I plan on doing.

Holland's forehead wrinkles up as he thinks about what Hairy just said.

Holland: Other thing?

Hairy: Yeah...

Hairy walks over to Rude and bends down and places his finger next to Rude's good eye.

Hairy: I'm taking this fucker out of its socket tonight.

Holland: You wouldn't!!!

Hairy: Heh...

John Paragon: Well...if Hairy really wasn't going to, he probably will now with Holland questioning him.

Hank Proctner: Seriously, someone needs to stop this. It's getting WAY out of hand.

John Paragon: I agree. But Rude did create this monster.

Hairy looks around for a weapon that will help assist him in taking the eye out.

Hairy's always been hardcore...but this is a bit much.

Stan Daniels
Stan Daniels

Posts : 88
Join date : 2011-01-20

View user profile

Back to top Go down


Post  Stan Daniels on Fri Jan 21, 2011 4:07 pm

Oh my god. Oh my god. No. No, please no...not now. Not like this. Not...to HIM! Those were just some of the thoughts racing through the kind of Johnny Rude. Blood splattered all over the mat. His blood. Hairy's back was turned to him. His heart was racing inside of his chest. It beat so fiercely, with such intensity, that he felt like any moment it would burst from his chest. Holland was on the outside trying to appeal to whatever remained of Hairy's humanity. What The Resistance of Man failed to realize was...Hairy didn't have any of that anymore. Johnny had stripped him bare and left him to rot.

And in doing so, he released something inside his foe. Something that maybe even Hairy didn't know was there. A monster. A blood hungry beast every bit as vicious and cruel as Rude himself. His eye looked at the man with genuine fear. In this moment, none of it mattered. It was if time stopped and something just clicked. He didn't care anymore. Not about fame. Not about glory. Not about becoming The King of The Cage. No, the only thought going through Rude's mind was this: He had to get out of here. Screw the back up plans. Screw the battle. It wasn't worth it.

And in thinking that...he was kind of shocked. For the first time in his career....he didn't care. The cost was too great. He would rather lose and fade off into obscurity, become an Aaron Wolf clone who sucked off Phil Stone...anything...anything besides losing his other eye. Losing the first one had done terrible damage to his psyche. It had created an 800 pound gorilla of shame and fear which showed no signs of letting up anytime soon. At any moment, he could lose it. And with losing it, he'd lose everything. His career would die. His physique would crumble in light of the binge eating he would engage in. Demonica would leave him. Eve would forget him, and he would be alone.

Alone until the day someone found him lying dead on his clean kitchen floor. Every inch of his home scrubbed to a mirror shine. The only thing out of place would be his cold, lifeless body as he stared into nothingness with dead eyes. A needle sticking out of his vein because he simply couldn't deal with it anymore. That would be his fate if he lost this eye. He couldn't accept that. He wouldn't. And so, while Hairy searched for the proper tool, Johnny rolled onto his stomach.

John: What is he doing? Why is he crawling to the cage wall?

Hank: He's trying to get up, that's what. He has to do something to stop this beast from freakin' killing him.

John: Honestly, how he's still even consciousness is a wonder to me.

Johnny grabbed onto the cage. Tears rolled down his face. He was scared shitless. So scared in fact that he felt pressure in his bladder. He began to shake the cage with fury as he cried out.


The arena was quiet. No one dare speak. Johnny shook the cage as hard as he could. He was sobbing now, his body shaking with the force of it. Somebody had to help him, right? Syren saw it. She was crippled with terror at first. Terror over the fact that one of your heroes just became a human. It freaked her out because in this moment she was seeing a side of her mentor no one else had seen save for Eve or Demonica. This wasn't like him at all. After that, she knew she had to help. Syren darted toward the cage door as quickly as she could. Rude continued his desperate plea.

Johnny: Please...I'm sorry...I'm sorry for everything...I DON'T WANT TO BE BLIND! PLEEASE!! I SWEAR, I QU-

He didn't finish his statement. Hairy grabbed the back of his head and slammed it furiously into the bamboo, eye first. Rude cried out as the world went dark for him. Not in the vein of actually losing consciousness, no. Sight had been robbed from him much the same way it had been robbed for Hairy. The King of Extreme's head bounced onto the mat. It wasn't long before Hairy grabbed him by his oily hair and slammed him eye first into the cage wall again. Rude screamed each time he did it. After the third time, Johnny managed to grab a hold of the bamboo with both arms. The arm which had been wrapped in the shirt was weaker than the other.

Johnny: No! I won't let you! I won't let you take it away!

Hairy: Who says you have a fuckin' choice!?

Johnny: Fuck you, you asshole! Fuck you, fuck you, FUCK YOU!

Hairy: That's what everyone says, *In a whiney tone* "Fuck yoooooou!" Well, it doesn't impress me. It doesn't scare me, and it certainly doesn't make you a fuckin' badass, now does it?

Hairy slammed his head into the cage wall again. Blood rushed over his eye. Great. Now he had to worry about wiping blood away from his eye every five seconds. It was all slipping out of his hands. Johnny Rude lied in the mat in a bloody heap. Every muscle in his body ached. He FELT like a beaten man. His heart sank into the pit of his stomach. This was how his career would end. Not with a huge final battle to the death with NightHawk. Not with a fantastic King of The Cage final round against Alan Scott. No. His career would end here. At the hands of one of the most underrated superstars in the business. Well...people certainly wouldn't be calling him underrated after this, that much was true.

Hairy grabbed him by his hair and pulled him back up. Johnny wouldn't stand on his own. As soon as he was on his feet he began to fall. So Hairy let him fall. He had a better idea anyway. He had found a pair of wire cutters among the weapons hanging from the cage. He walked over to the turnbuckle and began clipping away. It took some time, which was what Rude needed. He blinked several times and opened his eye. It stung from a few drops which got in. His vision was a blur. And yet through that blur he could see a few shapes. He blinked several times until he caught a glimpse of what Hairy was doing. He heard someone calling to him from the distance.

He turned his head a little. It was about as much as he could manage. Holland slid a roll of duct tape into the ring. Johnny stared at it for a second or two, unsure as to why it was there. And then he remembered. And then he smiled. Perhaps this match wasn't so hopeless? Perhaps he had one more ace up his sleeve? All he had to do was sucker Hairy into the trap. If he did that, the match was as well as his. Johnny placed the tape in his pocket. He then took several deep breaths. Hairy seemed to be having trouble with the clippers. Good. He just needed a minute or two. Johnny crawled toward the ring post opposite of where they were. It took every bit of energy and strength he had in him to do it.

John: I can't believe what we're witnessing. After all the blood Johnny Rude lost...after the pain he endured from that terrible attack on his bicep...he's STILL willing to fight!

Hank: That's why I admire him. He's a fighting champion!

John: If you call psychological mind rape fighting, then certainly.

Hank: Potatoes, Potahtoes, John. That's all I have to say.

Rude pulled himself up. He used the ring post to keep him on his feet. He coughed a few times from the pain. Hairy on the other hand, seemed to be in fine fighting form. More importantly, he had just finished handling the wire. He grabbed it with both hands. It bit into his skin. It made him bleed, but he didn't care. He was beyond pain. Beyond normal feeling. He was in a different place altogether. A ripping, slashing, destructive place. One which Rude would come to fear even more than he did already. He saw Rude leaning against the ring post. It was sad, so very, very sad. Didn't Rude now how close it was to the end? Why did he keep fighting?

Hairy: So Johnny...have you ever been curious about what a barb wire blindfold would feel like?

Rude was scared, very scared. He had to hide it. He buried it as deeply as he could and acted as brash as possible.

Rude: Please Hairy...you're not MAN ENOUGH to blind me. You know why you're Hairy? Because you're like a twat. A big, bushy, 1970's porn twat. Now...how does that feel?

Hairy: Says the man who was crying for his life. Well don't worry...you'll be doing more than crying in a moment.

Hairy rushed at him, which was what Rude wanted. He waited until the very last second. He grabbed a hold of Hairy's arm and began to move out of the corner. As soon as he had the space, he whipped Hairy into the corner. The furry fighter groaned, but compared to what they had been through, this was nothing. Or so Hairy thought. He was ready to charge The Rudeness again. Only, something happened. He looked down and saw that his arm was taped to the ring ropes.

Hairy: Wh-what the fuck is this...?

Rude: Heh....my trump card...you fucknugget.

Syren slid a small remote into the ring. Johnny fell to the ground. He grabbed a hold of the remote and looked at Hairy.

Rude: I spent all day in the ring, fuckwad...you didn't think I wouldn't rig this bitch with traps?

Hairy: Traps...what the fu-

Johnny hit the button. An explosion errupted from the turnbuckle that Hairy was taped to. Debris, fur, and blood everywhere. Rude watched the explosion with a sense of pride.

Hank: What...the hell...did we...just....see?

John: I-I think...I think he rigged the turnbuckle with a packet of C4....

Hank: And he just lured Hairy into it. I can't see a thing! Where is Hairy?

John: Meanwhile, the fans are on their feet. And strangely enough, they're quiet. I've never seen them like this before...

Rude lied on the ground and rested. He hoped to Satan than this worked...that the small bomb had put Hairy out of commission.

It looked like some Youtube footage I saw recently about the riots in Iran. Smoke....blood....explosions....stupid religion. Well...maybe not that last part. But still, it was basically a warzone in the arena.

Rude rested as he lied down on his stomach...holding his head up, however, to take a look. Hoping that once the smoke cleared, he'd see Hairy unable to go on.

Hank Proctner: I can't see a damn thing, John.

John Paragon: Now we know what Hairy and Johnny have felt like all night. Unable to see anything in front of that at times.

Hank Proctner: Nice, John. What a way with words you truly have.

As the smoke started to clear, Johnny saw a pile of fur in front of him. It had been blown off of Hairy. He smiled as he waited for it to clear up some more...and it did. He looked over to the side of the cage where Holland and Syren were...and both returned a smile to him. But the smiles disappeared when Rude turned his attention to the ring again, when the smoke cleared some more.

Johnny Rude: What the...?

There she was...

Hank Proctner: What is she doing back?

John Paragon: Kelly? It appears she's helping Hairy out of the

Kelly had opened the door herself and entered through the smoke. She went unnoticed. She couldn't sit back anymore and watch. Sure, she got the money...but it was obvious that she regretted it. Hairy's right arm was draped over his shoulders and she struggled to walk him to the door.

About a couple steps away...until Holland slammed the door shut in her face. Hairy's body fell limp to the mat as Kelly was exhausted and had nowhere to go. And for a lady with nowhere to go, she went...as Rude grabbed a handful of hair from the back of her head and pulled her into the middle of the ring. She screeched as her body flew backwards and as she landed on her ass. Rude, having never let go of her hair, pulls her up by her hair and gets her back on her feet and then spins her around. Face to face...

Johnny Rude: Are you fucking dumb? This wasn't part of the deal.

Kelly: I don't care about the money anymore. I don't know why I ever agreed to it in the first place.

Johnny Rude: Just leave...and I'll make sure you get some bonus money.

Kelly: And if I don't leave?

Johnny Rude: I'll make sure you get some broken bones and Hairy's dead body in the same casket as your dead husband.

Harsh...but he'd do it. And she believed him.

Kelly: Fine...I'll go.

She stepped over Hairy's limp body...looking down at him as she passed. She reached the door and Holland opened it for her. One last turn and look at Hairy...then her exit. More tears from Kelly. Pussy. She slowly walks up the ramp and heads out. Rude watches to make sure she actually leaves...shaking his head in disbelief that she actually
came back for the furball.

Hank Proctner: Besides the lame ass love story...we've got a match to finish, right John?

John Paragon: There is something romantic about it. But I don't know if Hairy would even want to be with her after tonight.

Hank Proctner: Why not? She didn't sleep with Rude.

John Paragon: But she took money, Hank. She chose money over Hairy. She came out here and sprayed him with Pepper Spray.

Hank Proctner: Only to return for her one true love.

John Paragon: Listen to yourself....you sound like Necropus.


But before the announcers can sound any gayer...they observe something.

John Paragon: Ick. Look at Hairy's back.

The camera gets a close up of the upper back that is now hairless and bleeding. The further away from his spine, the less blood and more flesh that can be seen.

John Paragon: He really is caucasion, Hank.

Hank Proctner: He's Sheepinator's twin brother, dipstick. Sheepinator was caucasion. It isn't that shocking.

John Paragon: Well...you see him like this...with all the fur and stuff...and you don't consider him to be human. It's just interesting to see a different side of the man.

Rude didn't care about skin color or what species Hairy was. What he cared about was destroying Hairy...embarrassing Hairy some more...and now that he's back in control, he cared about winning again.

Johnny Rude: So Hairy...you aren't just a furry twat. There is actually a human in this Halloween costume, eh?

He rolled Hairy over and watches as he remained motionless. Giving Hairy a
little kick, he notices his body just wiggles. It's like kicking a dead body,
not that Johnny would know anything about that...or would he? Rude looks at

Johnny Rude: The fucker might really be dead?

Hank Proctner: No way...he's not dead, right John?

John Paragon: ....

Johnny Rude kneels down and places his index and middle finger on Hairy's neck, checking for some trace of a pulse. He looks at Holland again.

Johnny Rude: Sadly...he's alive.

The crowd cheers. It's the first noise they've made in several minutes.

Hank Proctner: I almost forgot there was an audience. I don't recall an audience like this...ever.

Rude grabs a handful of hair from Hairy's head and drags the first man on the evolution chart to the corner of the ring. Reaching into his pocket, he grabs the tape again and sets it down. Reaching into his other pocket...he struggles to find what he's looking for. Nothing. Checks a different pocket. Nothing. He then remembers he left it on the ring after the explosion...but it's not there, either. Suddenly, a voice is heard over the PA System.

Kelly: Looking for this.

Rude looks up through the still somewhat smokey arena to see Kelly standing at the top of the ramp holding the remote that Rude used to set off the last C4 explosion. Yelling so she can hear him...

Johnny Rude: Be smart and bring it back.

Kelly: How about I make a deal with you again.

He smirks...wondering what she has in mind.

Johnny Rude: You do realize that I don't need that. You having that remote doesn't mean anything. You press a button now, and Hairy is the one in the corner of the ring. You'll only just hurt him more.

Holland and Syren just laugh at what they think is her idiocy. But they all soon find out...it's time to worry. Hairy drills Johnny in the head with the brass knuckles that were lying on the mat from earlier. Using his remaining energy, Hairy drags Rude to the corner and starts to tape him to the ropes...Holland quickly darts off towards Kelly, in order to get the remote. There was four buttons. Kelly assumed one for each corner of the ring.

As soon as Hairy taped up Rude, Holland was about 10 feet away from Kelly... Hairy quickly ran away from Rude and Kelly pressed a button before Holland could get her. The loud explosion caused Holland to stop running and turn around in horror. Smoke again...

Hank Proctner: NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

John Paragon: NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Battlestone: **stopped masturbating**

Holland couldn't see anything in the ring from on top of the ramp...so he turned and grabbed ahold of Kelly, making sure she couldn't leave.

Was Rude hurt?

Was it the wrong corner that exploded?

What would Jesus do?

Dun DUN DUNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Another explosion rang out in the arena. First a flash, followed by a devastating sound, then plenty of debris and dust flying through the air. On a monitor, some of the effect was a bit lost due to distortion. Someone was watching these horrible events unfold. Someone with plans of his or her own. Someone who wanted to see both of these men dead and buried. A figure, whose appearance can't be seen very well due to the chair they sit in, can be seen. It's a scene not too dissimilar from Inspector Gadget. The main villain's gloved hand being the only thing seen.

Mysterious figure: Holy shit...they're tearing each other apart. Huh. Looks like I didn't need the tube after all. Still...I think it's time I took a more hands on approach...

Back at ringside, the fans were all shouting the same thing: "HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT!" Smoke, dust, and debris filled the ring. How the cage was still standing in light of all the violence was a miracle in and of itself. Hairy was still in a large amount of pain. He leaned against the cage wall and stared at the cloud of smoke which obscured his opponent from view. The stunt he pulled was a desperate move to end the match. The man had nothing left to give. At least, he thought so. His eyes moved from Rude to the ramp area. Holland held Kelly with one arm, another holding a blade. Rage began to build in the furball's heart.

Who the hell did he think he is? He couldn't just threaten her like that. He wanted to stand. He wanted to rush up the ramp and beat the so-called "Resistance of Man" black and blue. Then he wanted to take Kelly in his arms and go the fuck home. Sadly, none of that would happen. Not yet, anyway. The spirit was willing but the flesh couldn't take it anymore. Not to mention that the fate of one Johnny B. Rude wasn't certain just yet. Which meant that he couldn't rest easy. He couldn't afford to. Hairy tried to pull himself up, but found his arms wouldn't obey his commands.

And then the last of the smoke faded away into the air. There, lying amongst a pile of bloody debris and ring post pieces was none other than the former One World Champion himself. Hairy examined him closely. He didn't show any sign of getting up. A mix of emotion swirled inside the heart of Sheepinator's twin brother. Half of it was joy from the fact that maybe, just maybe, he had won this god damn thing. And the edge was quickly taken off from this when he looked at the ramp and saw Holland threatening what he considered to be his woman.

And then there was the fact that she betrayed him. Oh yeah, that still kinda stung a bit.

John: Ladies and gentlemen...words can't describe what has just transpired here. We've had explosions, we've had flesh being torn open...I don't think ANYONE...ANYONE AT ALL...expected the match to go like this....

Hank: I knew it was going to be a bloodbath but...nothing like this. This is beyond a normal hardcore war. Beyond anything I've seen in quite some time. These men, quite literally, want each other dead.

John: And it seems like they may have gotten their wish. I'm getting word now that EMTs are on their way. Well, they would be, except for one thing...

Hank: And what would that be? Are they stupid? The ring looks like the god damn Taliban struck!

The answer was simple: Holland. He still had a woman's life in his hands. His gray eyes looked at the ring with worry. Was Johnny actually gone? Did Hairy just beat him? More importantly...did Hairy just...kill him? It wasn't a thought he wanted to entertain. At the same time, he knew he needed to do something. He couldn't simply sit by idly while the match was ripped from his friend's grasp. It was why he was doing what he was now. To try and stall. To buy Rude time to recover. And he would recover...wouldn't he?

Kelly struggled in his grasp. It was a vain effort. As tough and as resourceful as the young lady had proved herself to be, The Resistance of Man had a few feet and several hundred pounds over her. She was trapped. Absolutely trapped by her circumstances. She thought of her children. Of how they were at home now, watching this entire tragedy play out before their young eyes. What would they think of Mommy now? Shame crept into every pore of her being and for a very small moment, she almost wished Holland would do it. Certainly that would be a better fate then having to answer the questions.

God, the questions. "Why did you hurt Mistah Hairy, Mommy?" "Who was that bad man?" And countless more she didn't want to answer. Holland looked to Syren. He spoke to her in a deep, cold voice.

Holland: Microphone. Get it to me.

Syren: As you wish.

And so she scampered off to do just that. Hairy felt so powerless. So what if he took Rude out of the match? The match stopped mattering a long time ago. His heart sank a little as he saw the fear in Kelly's eyes. And it was his fault. It was all his fault, wasn't it? She got involved with him. He knew what kind of men lurked in his business. And he knew that Rude may as well have been one of the biggest abortions that humanity had to offer. And yet, still, he allowed her to get close. He threw caution to the wind and tried to do the ring thing. And this...this was the price of it all.

Hairy had a moment of clarity. He stepped out of himself mentally and surveyed the scene. He saw the trail of blood which stretched from where Rude had been cut to where Hairy wrapped his arm up. He saw the fur and blood from the explosion. And he saw the debris from it all. Hairy had never been pushed this far this quickly by anyone. It was a miracle he had gotten this far. And now...now none of it mattered. He had thrown it all away for absolutely nothing. None of it mattered if Kelly lost her life over this. And Holland was batshit crazy enough to do it. Hairy hated himself for all of this.

Syren returned with the mic. She held it to Holland's mouth.

Holland: HAAAAIIIIRRRRYYYY!! You have one chance. Just one. Forfeit. Give the match to Johnny. Do this, and she lives. If you refuse, I gut her here and now!

The fans cried out in horror. Were they about to see an actual murder? Half of them hoped not, the other half hoped so. John spoke to Hank.

John: I...I need to do something. I can't let this go on. A woman's life is in danger!

Hank: Easy there, cowboy. You get involved and even Syren's pasy ass would have you folded in a second.

John: But Hank, people are in trouble! People's lives are at stake! Retired or no...I have a responsibility to-

Hank: To sit the hell down. You don't want to get mixed up in all this. It's bad news, every last bit of it.

John didn't care. He took off his headset. Deep within him lied the convictions of a hero. A strong moral code which he had never, even in his retirement, forgotten. He still helped the helpless, but in different ways. He donated to charity, helped women accross the street, and tried his best to live life as an example of what humanity COULD be. People like Johnny Rude and Holland...they were the very antithesis of that. They spat in the face of morality and goodness. From the very point that this match started, John's heart went out to Hairy. They call it, "White Hat Sympathy" among good guys. Even retired heroes can feel the pain of the next gen's plight. John began to walk up the ramp.

Holland looked at him with a very amused look on his face. What the hell was THIS old bastard going to do? Just as he was about halfway up the ramp...something happened. The curtains parted. The fans went wild as Joe Power burst out onto the scene. He hated just about everyone in this match. And right now, in all honesty, what he was seeing was disgusting him. Rude was using pussy tactics. Holland was being emo, and Hairy was a waste for quitting. So the first thing he did, while Holland kept his eyes on the old man, was crack the man accross the back of the head with the cane.

Holland hit the ground and for a time, the lights were out. He then nailed Kelly with it, just for kicks. Syren watched as both bodies hit the ground. She stood ready for a fight. Joe pointed at her with the cane.

Joe: You really wanna fuck with me, slore?

Syren: I...I won't let you hurt maste-ARGH!

A cane shot from Hoe took her out as well. And for the first time in his life, Hairy was glad to see Joe. The gladness would end shortly though. The arms of Johnny Rude wrapped around Hairy's head. He applied a sleeper hold and spat.

Johnny: You....fuh...fuh...fucker....gonna....k-kill you....

Joe Power had...the power on the outside. That and some nasty STDs. John Paragon, who's admired the work of Joe Power and what he has done in his career, gives Joe a nod...letting him know he thanks him...then heads back to his chair where he belongs for the match. [/b]

Hank Proctner: Crap, just when I was finally enjoying my job...

While we wait for John to rejoin Hank, Rude is trying to make Hairy fall asleep from behind. Struggling, Hairy tries to pull Rude's arms away, but to no avail.

One second, he's standing...the next he's dropping down on the ground to try and knock Rude off. Finally, when he's battling the sleep...and standing with Rude behind him...getting sleepy, a desperation kick of his leg backwards and upwards connects with the little antichrists of Johnny's and sends him down, clutching his boys, while Hairy just drops. Exhausted.

He crawled over to one corner...while Rude worked his way to the opposite corner. Both men rest up against the corner as they sit there, recovering. Bleeding. Sweating. Heavy Breathing.

John Paragon: This thing still turned on? **taps the microphone on his headset**

Hank Proctner: I hope you aren't talking about your penis.

John Paragon: Har....har....har. Moron.

Hank Proctner: Welcome back. Way to walk all the way over there and puss out.

John Paragon: Puss out? Joe came and...

Hank Proctner: Blah blah blah. Excuses.

Joe Power, in the meantime, is about to get physical with the guys in the ring....but then stops himself a step away from the entrance into the cage...smiling.

Hank Proctner: What's he up to now?

Joe then pulls the remote out of his pocket. The sneaky bastard grabbed it after knocking Kelly out and hitting Holland with the cane. There are still two corners ready for the blast. And just as if it's scripted like the bullshit on TV, Hairy sits in one of those corners...and Rude in the last corner. It's as if God planned this out and laughing his ass off at the chaos he's created. He holds the remote up in the air...but the crowd doesn't really cheer or boo. They just can't imagine seeing those two go through more of this.

Hank Proctner: He wouldn't.

The camera zooms in on his convincing eyes.

Hank Proctner: Or...he would.

His fingers cover up all the buttons...ready to press all four in to set off the last two.

Hank Proctner: It's like a car accident. You don't want to look...but you have to.

John Paragon: Here he goes!

Both announcers DO close their eyes, readying themselves for the blast.

Instead, the fans cheer. Holland leaps and tackles Joe to the ground, causing the remote to go flying into the cage halfway through the ring, stopping under the ropes. It's closest to Johnny Rude, who still has enough in him after that kick to the balls.

As Holland works on Joe, and Syren starts to wake her ass back up...Rude crawls over to the remote, clutching it in his hands.

He can't help but smile. Sitting there on his knees, his head jerks in the direction of Hairy...who sits there smiling right back.

You know how annoying it is to smile because you are about to put one man through hell...but then you look at that man and he doesn't give a shit? That's what Johnny was experiencing. Rude can't help but think Hairy's about to pull some trick out of nowhere...so he gets nervous for a moment. Instead, though, Hairy starts talking.

Hairy: Do it. Just end this fucking misery. You doing that is exactly what I want you to do. Do me this favor.

There it was. That last sentence ruined it for Johnny. Do me this favor? Who the fuck did Hairy think he was to ask Rude to do him a favor. And Hairy knew it. As much as he hated himself now and hated life, Hairy knew he'd find joy in beating Rude...and if he could somehow make Rude think he'd actually be helping Hairy out, he'd stop himself from doing it.

Johnny Rude: What the hell did you just say?

Hairy: You heard me. Ease my pain, man. Press the button. Here, I'll help you finish the job for sure.

Hairy turns around so his face is right up against the location of the C4. Refusing to turn around now, his voice is somewhat muffled, but Rude can still here him over the silence of the crowd.

Even Joe and Holland and Syren are watching again.

Hairy: DO IT!!!!!

Rude looked at Hairy...then down at the remote....and back up at the furball.

Decisions decisions decisions. But he just couldn't press the button. Not now. Knowing it's what Hairy would want ruined the fun. Trying his hardest to convince himself to still press the button...

Johnny Rude: You nearly killed me...but dammit, I was the one that put the C4 here.

Every time he came up with a reason why he should kill Hairy, he realized he is what caused Hairy to do what he did. Not like it would have mattered any other time...but this time, him being his normal dickhead self would HELP Hairy? Fuck that.

Johnny Rude: Fuck.

Hairy smiles, but Rude is obviously not able to see it since Hairy is turned away. If this were a video game, both Rude and Hairy's energy level meter on the corners of the screen would be empty.

But Hairy knew he could probably have enough in him to take Rude down one more time. Hairy stood up and turned around, only to see Rude pacing back and forth, contemplating his next move, looking at the remote, unaware of the rising of Hairy. It's not exactly Easter, but in Hairy's mind, He has Risen!!!

The crowd cheers, making Johnny snap out of his own debate he was having between his voices. But when he looked over at Hairy, all he saw was fur, which isn't surprising. But this time, the fur was actually right in front of him...and Hairy stuffed his fist into Johnny's mouth.

John Paragon: THE FURBALL!!!

Hank Proctner: Holy crap, he's going to finish this match once and for all!

It was true. Hairy just wanted it over with. The move best described as something similar to Mick Foley's move...but surprisingly hairier....has Johnny losing air and dropping down to the mat.

The cheers from the crowd give Hairy even more energy. It's like he said...he thrives off of the fans. They have and always will be why he did this job. He should never have come back for just the money.

Once Rude was motionless, Hairy took his fist away. I guess you could say he fisted Rude. Hairy stood up and absorbed the cheers, heading to the door for his victory. But he forgot about one thing. Holland, Siren, and Joe Power were out there.

Holland stood behind the door like he normally stood behind Johnny on a Friday night after a few beers, ready to give it to him...and Joe Power didn't really care if Hairy won. He actually wanted to see Hairy and Johnny kill each other...so he allowed Holland to stand there untouched, like Battlestone's penis in regards to women.

Hairy: I should have known you fucking pansies would prevent the real winner from happening.

Holland: Real winner? Johnny could have won this match a long time ago.

Hairy: We both had our chances. But we both knew the real winner was the one that could walk away after the war was over. It's fucking over.

Not wasting anymore time on the sperm swallower, Hairy starts to climb. It'll be tricky with the sharp bamboo at the top, but he'd take the chance. He'd also take Chance, but she's got a bigger dick than he does...so he gave up on that dream.

Not much left in his tank...he slowly gets up there and looks down at Rude. The man has rolled over anyways, so he's still alive. Hairy looks down to see Syren and Holland waiting for him on the outside. They were going to do whatever they had to in order to prevent him from touching the ground for the victory. The fans cheering him on...but Hairy has to talk to the Rude Crew.

Hairy: Really?

Holland just smiled while Syren stood there like a fucking moron.

Joe Power had plans, however.

Hairy: You guys are going to prevent me from winning? Do I have to jump and land in the damn crowd to win?

Holland: We sure won't let you climb down.

Hairy now stood at the very top of the cage, with sharp bamboo on each side of him poking up.

Before Hairy could decide if he'd leap or try to climb down, Joe Power ran at the cage and did a huge body splash into it, causing it to shake, making Hairy lose his balance.

John Paragon: NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Hank Proctner: NOO...**cough cough**....my throat is killing me from doing this too many times.

Hairy's balance was taken away from him and he tried to leap, but he was already on his tip toes when he pushed off. He hardly got off the cage since he hardly jumped, but his body started to fall more towards the inside of the cage. His weight and gravity brought him down, crashing towards the ring. But he stopped before he could really even start heading there.

There was a slight problem. Since he basically jumped almost straight up, when he came down, his thigh was pierced by one of the sharp spear tops of the bamboo. You could actually see it sticking through his entire leg.


Every single person there turns away for a moment, bracing themselves for the image that they already saw.

His body was hanging in on the inside of the cage, while the rest of his leg hanged outside the cage...and his thigh was on the cage.

Hank Proctner: .....

John Paragon: We're going to take a commercial break...

Cue the awesome Rob Thomas Rhapsody commercial advertising his awesome new CD, cradlesong...in stores or available for download on iTunes...NOW!

His eye opened slowly. He didn't want it to. Opening his eye meant waking up. Waking up meant returning the HELL that was this match. It meant letting the pain rock through his body once again. And yet, for some reason, he did open his eye. The light from above shone into it and caused it to sting painfully. A tear rolled down his face. Rude wiped at his eye and opened it once more. He could see again. The wound over his eye had clotted thankfully, which meant he wouldn't have to contend with blindness any longer. Rude turned his head and was absolutely shocked by what he saw.

A trail of blow flowed down the cage. It poured from an as of yet unknown source to Rude and covered the bamboo. Rude was reminded of some kind of murder scene out of a movie in the jungle. His eye followed the trail to it's owner: Hairy. A satisfied smile curved his lips. Serves the bastard right. The jaw and mouth of Rude was wracked in terrible agony. Hell, all of him was. There was a small plus side to this, though. After so much sensory exposure, the body can become somewhat numb. In that it doesn't register pain if it has experienced for an extended period of time, but the limbs can still move. The problem with this is that when a person finally does stop, it all sinks in like dead weight. Because that is precisely what his hurt limbs become.

Johnny crawled over to the cage. The match was over. From the looks of it, Hairy had pierced something serious in his thigh. Which wasn't too surprising when one considers just how many veins and major blood vessels are in the thighs. Most specifically, the femoral artery. Rude wasn't an anatomy expert, but the idea that the vein had been pierced certainly wasn't out of the realm of possibility. He began to climb. It was slow...it agonizing...but he did it. He climbed until he was right beside Hairy. Which wasn't too far up considering Rude's foe was hanging upside down. Johnny held on with one hand and slapped Hairy in the face.

Rude: You fucking pussy. You make me SICK!

Hairy: Uhhhh....uhhhh...

Johnny slapped him again.

Rude: Is that all you've got to say, pansy!?

Hairy: g...g....g-go...t-to...h-hell!

Johnny was angry. No, that term doesn't quite express it properly. He was downright furious. Hairy had gotten inside of his head one too many times. It was his own fault, too. In the time this match has gone on, Rude had learned a great deal about Hairy. So much so that perhaps, had things not turned out the way they did, they could have been friends. Or at least associates who would have a beer and talk about hurting folk. Instead, they were bitter enemies. If that hadn't been the case before, it certainly was now. Johnny grabbed the head of his foe. He slammed it against the cage wall again and again.

This actually helped Hairy, in a way. The attack roused him from his semi-conscious slumber. He was more alert, but all the blood he was losing would quickly remedy that. Johnny didn't care. Hairy had toyed with him, in his own way. He had manipulated Johnny and in doing so raped the man's pride. Hairy may as well have shoved his gigantic cock into the mouth of Rude's pride and sexed it against it's will. How could he let this happen? Hairy was a joke. A one trick pony who should have died along with The Systemites, The AoD, and every other unfunny collection of HACKS. Rude hated funny men, especially after the whole Benny Blair thing.

Johnny: Who do you THINK you are, you bastard!?!

Hairy: Ummm....Cinderella?

Johnny: What the f...that doesn't even make any sense!

Hairy: I'm sorry Miss Muffet...I've ruined my dress for the ball.

Johnny facepalmed. The man was delirious. Losing blood and getting your head slammed into bamboo will do that to you. Screw it. He didn't care anymore. If the EMTs didn't get here soon, Hairy would die. So what? Let it happen. That's what he was thinking at the time. So he proceeded to climb the cage. It was a slow process, to be sure. His body had been pushed well beyond it's limit for pain. Hell, even thinking hurt him at this point. Still, if he could cross the threshold of the cage it would all be worth it. His heart began to beat just a bit faster. The adrenaline was beginning to flow. It wasn't a huge amount, because much of his cache had been spent already, but it was something.

It was over. He could feel it. It was over. He had won. God, it felt so good. It felt so very, very good. So much so that when Rude reached the very top of the cage, he stopped. He straddled it and looked back down at Hairy. Seeing the bloodied and furry mess that was his opponent gave him a certain degree of satisfaction. Seeing him from the viewpoint of the outside of the cage would give him even more. Rude went to throw his leg over the cage and seal the deal when he noticed something. Holland and Syren were down. Odd. He remembered them being up a moment or two ago. He searched the area and what he saw made his heart sink.

Ov Terror had come out to back Joe up. Not surprising when one thinks about it long enough. They were tag partners, after all. Joe rested the stick behind his neck and stretched. He let out a chuckle as Ov walked toward the cage. Joe tossed the stick aside and joined his partner. The eye of Rude widened and he screamed, "No!" Both men smiled and began to shake the fuckin' cage. No! No, god damn it! His mind screamed more loudly than any pair of human lungs were capable. It didn't matter though, none of it did. The spike in Hairy's leg was now moving while still inside him, making the wound even bigger. The shaking of the cage caused this and it caused Rude to begin to lose his balance.

Johnny held on with both hands and wrapped his legs around the bars. He couldn't let them do this. He couldn't, god damn it!

Hank: That's why I love the new Joe Power. He's SUCH a bastard! He's willing to spoil the win for Rude just because. It's awesome!

John: I don't think it's that simple, partner. Remember, Joe has a deep seeded grudge toward The Rudeness. He used Joe as a means to get at Hawk. This is something Joe never forgot. And so any chance he has, even now, to make Johnny's life hell, he's going to take it!

Hank: And there Rude goes! Oh...oh God, Hairy's going down with him!

It was true. The movement of the cage eventually became such that it caused the spike to rip from Hairy's thigh. Blood splattered into the air as a now unconscious Hairy fell toward the mat below head first. Johnny also fell and as he did, the blood which came from his foe splattered accross his face. The fans shrieked in a mix of amazement and horror as both men landed on the ground. Their heads had taken a big part of the impact and as such, both were unconscious. Flesh dangled loosely from Hairy's leg. He was out. If help didn't come soon, he'd be out for good.

Joe and Ov high fived one another. They were quite pleased with their handiwork. Holland was down and out. Syren was down and out. The ring was splattered with ring debris, fur, blood, and just recently, bits of flesh. It would be easy to think that anyone who didn't see all that happened would think a god damn massacre occurred here. They wouldn't be too far off, either. The duo left the ringside area, confident that their jobs here were done. At least for now. Just as Joe was about to part the curtain, he turned to the ring and extended a middle finger at the both of them. After that, he dissappeared with The Tall Guy.

Not long after they were gone, a slew of medics and EMTs swarmed the ringside area. The whole scene was remeniscent of the opening scene of Saving Private Ryan. The carnage, the gore, the bodies...it was intense. One of the newer guys on the crew had to back away from the scene and vomit into a bag. That aside though...both wrestlers were carried out of the cage. The fans watched, all of them on their feet, and none of them quite sure as to what to make of the events they just witnessed.

And they weren't the only ones, either. The Powerbase was watching, and they were NOT pleased. Not in the slightest. A tournament such as this NEEDED a winner. And so they would take time to make a decision.

As they did, someone else was watching. The one who locked them in the tube to begin with. It hadn't been Joe after all, as some may have thought. Whoever this person was, they were smiling like the cat who got the cream.

Later...Rude awoke. His body was mercifully numb, for the most part. He turned his head and saw Hairy in another bed. They were in a hospital. He could tell that much from the sickly sterile smell and the bright white light. Hairy was beginning to wake as well. Rude moved his hand toward the oxygen mask over his face. It was a weak movement...but he managed to do it. He then spoke.

Rude: H-Hairy.....c-can you hear me....?

Hairy: Wh-what is it...you....bastard?

Rude: I need to...tell you...something.

Hairy scowled. He didn't want to hear anything else. Still, he had little choice.

Rude: I didn't.....fuck Kelly.

Hairy: You douche....I know that.

Rude: Holland did. I just...filmed it.

Hairy: WHAT!?!?

It's amazing. It's almost like Days of Thunder. Yes, the racing movie with Tom Cruise that only 4 people watched.

Two competitors in the hospital. Soon, they would be racing each other down the halls in their wheel chairs.

No...seriously, it might happen.

Johnny Rude: I didn't...fuck Kelly.

Hairy: You douche...I know that.

Johnny Rude: Holland did...I just filmed it.

Hairy: What?!?!

Hairy realized he was probably joking...and it was confirmed when Rude started laughing...then placed his oxygen mask back on as he gasped for air after the laughter.

But one thing caught Hairy's attention. Not the fact that Hairy had flowers and about 1000 get well cards and Rude had one...from Holland. What caught Hairy's eyes was the blood that dribbled out of Rude's mouth while laughing.

Hairy: Take that mask off quickly.

A middle finger from Rude was all Hairy got in return.

Hairy: Seriously, Johnny...you're bleeding.

Rude took the mask off and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. Checking it for blood, it was confirmed.

Johnny Rude: Fuck.

Hairy: Don't worry.

Hairy clicks this little button attached to some stick on his bed. It alerts the nurses he needs help.

And since the are a big deal and famous and all...a nurse rushes in seconds after....out of breath. Samantha was her name.

<b>Samantha: </b>What's wrong?!?

Hairy smiled.

Hairy: Just like I like my women...blonde, big jugs, and breathing heavy.

Johnny Rude: Don't forget blind, deaf, and desperate.

Hairy: What my best friend here is trying to say is...his vagina is bleeding and he needs to be checked out.

Rude gives Hairy the "Fuck you" look. Samantha walks over to his bedside...

<b>Samantha: </b>Let's take a look and see what's wrong with my favorite patient.

She gives a flirty smile like all whore nurses do, and Rude can't help but like it...until he looks over at Hairy who is pretending to jack off under his blanket...as it rises up and goes down over and over. At least...Rude hopes he's pretending.

<b>Samantha: </b>Ummmm...I better get your doctor in here.

She leaves in speed-walking fashion. Rude and Hairy just look at each other.

Hairy: If I outlive you...I'm officially declared the winner of our match.

Johnny Rude: Fuck that...look at your leg...I automatically win.

Hairy: Sure...you get the win for the work Joe Power did. Sounds like a typical victory of yours.

Still no doctor.

Hairy: Seriously...who the hell won our match?

Johnny Rude: Me.

Hairy: Seriously, Johnny...what the hell are they going to do? Triple threat match between the two of us and the unfortunate winner of the McDervish/Carnage fight?

Johnny Rude: Who says we can't finish our fight right now?

Hairy: He says we can't.

Hairy points to the doctor that walks in. Actually, two doctors and two nurses. They pull the curtain between the two beds so Hairy can't see what's going on.

It's at this time that Hairy looks at the door, knowing this is the time to do his little joke that he's been waiting to do.

His one leg is obviously bandaged up really good...so he puts his good leg down first and steadies himself up on it...takes a couple hops since his bed is closest to the door and he grabs the charts.

Finding Rude's, Hairy takes the pen out there and selects the option for a colonoscopy...and then quickly hops back into bed. Nothing is better than getting a tube in your anus, right Alan Scott?

Hairy: Everything okay over there?

Nobody answers him, but soon, the curtain is opened and the doctors and nurses leave the room.

Hairy: Well?

Rude takes the mask off again.

Johnny Rude: Just normal for our condition. Some internal bleeding...they don't seem too concerned about it.

Hairy: Good...I mean...Shit, I was hoping it was Mad Cow or something. We should really discuss our match. I mean...at least discuss who's moving on to the next round.

Johnny Rude: It's probably not up to us anymore, Hairy.

Hairy: But what if it was. What would be the fairest way to do it?

Johnny Rude: Another match.

Hairy: Let's say we aren't cleared to fight in time before round two....then what?

Johnny Rude: Hmmm...

Hairy: We could just do online voting from the fans.

Johnny Rude: Fuck that...you're a fan favorite. I'd get demolished.

Hairy: So...no?

Johnny Rude: Hell no.

As the two discuss ways to declare a winner...then nap...then wake up to rip on each other for 10 more minutes, a doctor arrives and grabs Rude's chart and walks into the room.

Dr. Jew: Hey guys...Mr. Rude, I'm Dr. Jew. It looks like we've got a slew of things to do.

His eyes scan the chart and the recommendations...

Dr. Jew: Hmmm...a colonoscopy?

Rude's eye widens open as far as it can. Even under his eye patch, his non eye looks shocked, too. Hairy can't help but chuckle, causing Dr. Jew to look over and smile.

Dr. Jew: I see what's going on here. We'll scratch that one off the list. Actually, I better take both of your charts for a moment and recheck everything. We don't want any lawsuits on our hands with our two most famous patients.

He smiles and exits.

Johnny Rude: Are you serious? If my anus would have been touched...

Hairy: ...you would have remembered your nights with Holland?

Johnny Rude: Real funny, asshat.

Hairy had an idea. Yes, another one.

Hairy: Listen, I've got a doctor....a shady doctor. He'd give us clearance to fight if you want to finish this thing.

Johnny Rude: Look at us. Even if he did, the Powerbase would get a second opinion. I've still got just one eye but my entire body hurts. You're lucky to have one good leg right now...and we've both got bad burns on our backs from the explosives.

Hairy: Ah yes...my new bald spot. Thanks for that.

Johnny Rude: You're welcome.

Hairy: Hey, I just thougth I'd mention it. I know you want to win this thing badly...but I also know you don't want a tie in the record books against me. I know you think you can beat me...and want to make sure that a washed-up never has been like me gets the loss he deserves, right?

Johnny Rude: Basically.

Hairy: Then let's do it.

Rude thinks it over...but has one more question.

Johnny Rude: Who's this doctor? It's fucking Kiebler or Abortion, isn't it...

No response....

Rude, who was staring up at the ceiling turns his head to the right to look at Hairy.

Johnny Rude: Hairy?

His eyes were half open. Or is it half closed? It probably comes down to if you are an optimist or a pessimist. Anywho....he wasn't responding. In fact...he appeared to not be breathing.

Johnny Rude: NURSE!!!

Again...it's weird the other is willing to help and worried about the other's health.

With no reply...Johnny remembers to click the button like Hairy did earlier.

A team of nurses rush in. They were all huddled around at the nurse's station anyways...

<b>Samantha: </b>What's wro....crap.

She knew the answer to her own question when she saw Hairy.

<b>Samantha: </b>Get a crash cart!

It's like an episode of Grey's Anatomy...with the doctors and nurses fucking on TV.

While they work on Hairy...things outside the hospital are going on, too.

The Powerbase.

Krusher: I'm pressed for time, here.

Malcolm Reynolds: BOTH of us have been with all the scheduling...and with these two in the hospital...what is the best option?

Von Braun: I'll be honest...it's great for the company, though. You realize how much buzz this has generated?

Grayson: It has been great. Our website is putting up record numbers for visitors and sales.

LDG: I'm getting calls from other wrestlers that are thinking of joining...thinking Fed X is the place to get some more recognition.

Krusher: Not to be a dick...but I get all this. In a way, it's amazing what those two did and people are eating it up. But round two is in a couple days...and we need to have **insert winner of Carnage/McDervish here** face off against someone.

Grayson: How about both guys?

LDG: Nah...too many people will bitch if we allow both guys to advance.

Von Braun: I'm sure more will bitch if we randomly pick a winner.

It's at that time that Krusher's cell phone rings...then LDG's...then the rest of them get phone calls.

All answer and after the first sentence said to them...they look at each other in shock.

Krusher: Dying?

Grayson: He'll be okay?

LDG: Lost a leg?

Malcolm Reynolds: Cancer?

Von Braun: Colonoscopy?

The rumors were already spreading...and fast.

All of their conversations ended simultaneously for the convenience of a TV production. It was silent for a second...then Krusher spoke up.

Krusher: Sounds like Rude might win on default.

Grayson: Really? Sounds like Hairy will be just fine.

LDG: Fine...but with one leg.

Malcolm Reynolds: One leg and cancer.

Von Braun: I heard Rude requested he got a colonoscopy. What's going on with Hairy?

Krusher: Wait...so what are we to believe?

Grayson: Sounds to me that Hairy MIGHT be in trouble...according to all of your sources.

LDG: One of us should go to the hospital and make sure our employees are doing fine.

Malcolm Reynolds: Hey...if he dies, our decision won't get criticized.

He laughed at his joke...but it actually did make sense. It's like they all were thinking it...but nobody wanted to be the prick that said it.

So it was just ignored.


Back at the hospital, Rude was alone in the room.

Visions of the match haunting him...well...some haunted him. Others made him smile with delight.

His visions, however, were interrupted by a voice.

Mysterious Figure mentioned before in this Epic Tale of Three Days: You want the victory?

Rude snaps out of his thought and looks at the door....


Many questions abound. He didn't remember all the details. When the nurses came in to tend to Hairy he kind of blacked out for the moment. He chalked it up to the pain meds. In his dreaming state, he thought of the match. And as he did, he couldn't help but consider the possibility that Hairy was dead. The strangest part about it was that he was, for lack of a better phrase, of two minds on the subject. A dark, dirty, and crooked part of him laughed with glee. He had won. He outlived the bastard and showed him just what was what. A sense of superiority which came from being proven the dominant male came over him.

And then there was the fear. The other side of the coin, as it were. He was scared. Would Hairy be okay? He wouldn't really die, would he? He was Hairy. Everyone knew him. Most people adored him. He couldn't die. He had been around forever. And yet the possibility of it seemed real enough. So real that it brought some rather unpleasant memories back. Memories of a cold winter night. The feel of asphault licking against his broken body as he drug himself along. He had been bested physically by the at the time Bloodsport Champion, Acid Ed. It wasn't about winning anymore. At least not in the sense of trying to win the match.

He drug himself on the ground. His body, for the most part, had quit on him. Hell, he wanted to quit. But he refused. If he showed Ed that he could make it to the finish line...it would mean something. Acid Ed had won the match, sure, but their battle ran much deeper than that. It was more a competition of the alpha male of one generation facing the alpha male of another. And the two fought to see who truly was king of the jungle. It was bestial and cold, but it what was that match was about. Rude honestly believed that if he made it to the finish line despite a punctured lung and a broken body that it would send a clear message to his foe.

That message? "You've won nothing." Ed's goal from the beginning was to break Johnny Rude. To reduce him to a sobbing, whimpering mess. If Rude made it to the end despite everything, it would mean that Ed would have failed. But in the end, none of it would matter. The spiritual victory that Johnny was trying his damndest to claim wouldn't happen. A shot rang out from the darkness. Acid Ed's chest was pierced. And there, in the snow, in Johnny Rude's arms, of ALL PEOPLE, Acid Ed died. Rude remembered how weak he felt. How powerless and stupid. The color faded from the man's flesh and when it did, that was that.

Rude awoke from the panic of the memory. He looked over to Hairy's bed. A blanket had been thrown over his body. Shit. No, not again. Not again. I can't handle two, not two! God damn it! These were but a few of the many thoughts racing through his mind. He truly couldn't handle someone else dying on him. Benny Blair and Acid Ed's deaths had done wonders in crushing his mind into paste. He went face for awhile, adopted some kids, it was all very embarrassing. If Hairy died now...then it would be even worse. He may snap altogether and retreat into his own mind. Into some kind of comatose state. Forever drooling and shitting on himself. All because of Hairy.

The nurses who were there previously were now gone. In their steed was someone else. Someone Rude recognized. He blinked several times to make sure that he wasn't making anything up. No, this was real. It was real, and it was real fucking scary. The mastermind who captured both Rude and Hairy and placed them in the tube...the same force who had been watching the match from the very beginning....

Jeff McCarthy: So, do you want victory?

Rude: J-Jeff!?! Wh-what the FUCK!?!?

Jeff: ...What did I do?

Rude: I'm not sure yet....but I want some answers, now!

Jeff smirked. He shrugged and walked over to Hairy's bed. He looked under the sheet and winced. Not because of how badly beaten he was. Oh no, it was because his physique was SOOO weak! And all that hair...definitely not winning any beauty contests anytime soon. He turned his back to the supposedly dead Hairy and looked at Johnny. He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled sweetly.

Jeff: So what do you wanna know, mentor?

Rude: Why didn't you come out and help Holland and Syren? I was getting my ass boiled in the fryer and you didn't do dick!

Jeff chuckled a little. He looked down for a moment and shook his head. He then looked up again. Jeff's eyes were bright and his face was positive.

Jeff: Well....it's simple, really. If I was out there, I couldn't lie in wait for the right moment to screw you over, now could I?

Rude blinked several times. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was this for real? What the hell was JEFF doing betraying him? It was JEFF...his pupil. His secret weapon. The man, above all others who Rude trained, who Johnny was going to pass the torch to. And now...this.

Rude: Why? Why you spoiled little baby faced faggot!?

Jeff: You think I have a baby face? Gee, I didn't think you cared. Anyway...it's simple: I'm tired of being a lackey. I am god damn Jeff McCarthy, damn it! No.....not just that. Well...you know, I am Jeff McCarthy...it's on my birth certificate. And my social security guard. And my numerous gym memberships...but that's, you know, not the name I was gonna use and stuff.

Awkward silence. Johnny's blood was boiling over.

Rude: Shut the FUUUCK up!

Jeff: No. So, anyway, I was gonna use my SUPER ORIGINAL WRESTLER NAME and stuff!

Rude: Kid, it's not original. I've seen like, four guys-

Jeff: SILENCE! It IS original. No one presently is using it, god damn it, and I thought of it all on my own! So there!

Jeff blew a raspberry at Rude. Yes, he was THAT immature. But what could be expected of an eighteen year old rich kid who had a silver spoon crazy glued to his mouth?

Rude: Are you done yet?

Jeff: No. I was about to reveal my big plan...and my super cool, original wrestler name.

Rude: You said you were tired of being my sidekick, I think.

Jeff: Oh! Right, that's where I left off. Thanks.

Rude: No problem, homo.

Jeff: Your mother. Anyway...I wanted you BOTH out of the picture. I figure with you two gone, a talent vaccum would be created. And in that vaccuum, I would arrive. You see, people had already seen some of my exploits. I drop your name and my association, and I'd get a contract. Then Superstardom, here I come!

Rude sighed. Kids these days....

Rude: So you were going to kill Hairy and I for a Fed X contract?

Jeff: Ummm...yeah, yeah, pretty much.

Rude: You're fucking retarded. I could have arranged a meeting with the PB if you wanted.

Jeff didn't speak at first. Silence hung in the room. He spoke again.

Jeff: S-shut up! This is a GENIUS PLAN! I HATE YOU!

Rude: Look, whatever you're gonna do, can we speed this up? I'd rather suffocate under Emissary's taint than listen to your drivel.

Jeff: Anyway, I'm here to finish you both off. But since Hairy's ticket seems to be punched, it's just YOU and Me...Me....The newest wrestler to Fed X's roster....The One...The Only....

Here it comes. Everyone was about to hear what Jeff's super original name would be. That is, until someone hit him in the head from behind. Jeff cried out and hit the ground. He was out. Rude looked and saw Hairy sitting up. Johnny did a double take. Then he did a triple take.

Rude: You can't be serious...

Hairy: Damn...I thought he'd never shut up...
Stan Daniels
Stan Daniels

Posts : 88
Join date : 2011-01-20

View user profile

Back to top Go down


Post  Sponsored content

Sponsored content

Back to top Go down

Back to top

- Similar topics

Permissions in this forum:
You cannot reply to topics in this forum