Post by Deleted on Apr 13, 2013 1:27:29 GMT -6
Ever fucking been blown up?
Valora was in heaven. Bleeding. Every part of her body hurt. She was inches away... Then Slater hit him and knocked her into Hunter and BOOM! The C-4 exploded and Hunter and Valora were dumped out to the bottom level.
Once more victory in my grasp. Once more I get inches away only to have victory snatched away from me. But I got one of my goals was accomplished. I bled and made people bleed in Japan. Slater won by the skin of his teeth and he and I both know why he won. No *official* proof yet. But then, I’m sure my instincts will be validated soon enough.
Valora was going through what the other psychology students at USC had dubbed their own version of the Kobayashi Maru. Modeled after the ever popular ‘Silence of the Lambs’ one of the Psych professors played the insane person. Sometimes, an actual criminally insane person was brought in. The goal was to see how much information the student could gain from a hostile witness. Valora had drawn the short straw. A former psychiatrist that had snapped, talked his patients into killing themselves. As Valora walked into view, the man laughed. It was an eerie, almost inhuman laugh. The laugh of a man that had truly stopped being human.
“So this is what the University of Southern Califor-nia has to send? How very fascinating. I wonder are you a real doctor, or just pretending? A student come to play with a guinea pig in a controlled environment and thus learn nothing?”
Valora had been ready for this and tried to keep calm. “Grad student. I have a degree in psychology.” Valora’s accent was still with her. It was an accent she would return to at times and other times try to hide. At this point in her life, it was an embarrassment to her aspirations and ambitions. The accent both Mexican and unmistakably marking her as being from South Central Los Angeles. The man smiled and looked Valora over once and again and smirked. “Remarkable. I’m amazed you can even pronounce the word ‘psychology’ let alone know anything about what the study of it entails. Why not a doctor? Are you too lazy, perhaps? I wonder if perhaps you can’t afford it or maybe you just aren’t smart enough. All interesting questions I suppose.”
Valora clenches her jaw and narrows her eyes a bit, “Maybe ju should tell me.” She visibly winces and closes her eyes as the accent slips out in her irritation. The man smirks. “I think you’re just another spic. A dumb wetback dragged off the streets and thrown into the college room to try and prove your people are good for something other than running laundromats, beings whores, working the fields or the ever popular being thieves and criminals. It’s pronounced Y-O-U, you dumb little mongrel bitch. If you can’t speak our language properly, do us a favor and don’t speak it at all.”
I’d like to say that racist asshole was my first, but I never killed him. In fact, after I completed my studies, I thanked him. One of the few gringos that are fuckin’ honest about their racist bullshit. As much as I’ll make him bleed, American Icon is at least honest too. I bring up the matter of honesty and racism because we’re chuck fuckin’ full of Bullshit in this match..
Lets look first at Matthew Slater. English. If you’re keeping track of the most misery and bloodshed caused worldwide... these inbred little fucks have to be near the top. Australia? Started off as a penal colony or England to send their undesirables. The English and the Chinese fought a war over fuckin’ drugs. Oh yeah, not to mention they started the slave trade, supported Apartheid in South Africa, enslaved Indians in India and killed the ones they couldn’t enslave and tried to destroy Irish and Scottish culture. But they’re really swell people once you get to know them...
Kronin. The quintessential White Knight. I’ve compared him to Batman for good reason. But he comes the undisputed masters of racism... the fuckin’ Nazis. Don’t tell me that Germany and England have changed either. Look at the money crisis sweeping Europe. England and Germany control most of the money in Europe. If you’re white, you get money no questions asked. If you’re Greek or Portuguese or non-white, then you better expect England and Germany to tell you how to run your God Damn country if you wanna borrow money. Team Racism. Last great hope of gringos everywhere.
“So... you eat here a lot?” Valora asked. The woman did look out of place wearing her New Edge hoodie, her trademark bandana woven in through her black and blue hair. Running down from the hoodie was a pair of blue jeans and combat boots. Judas looked around and smiled. “You’re a main eventer, Valora. One of the reasons no one takes you seriously is you don’t indulge. You gotta play the game in all its forms. Do the dance. Make Jesse pay for you to be in the nice hotel. Show up and be seen in the finer places. Hanging out in the slums is all well and good, but it won’t get you visibility as a main eventer.”
Valora sat and thought about this as she drank a glass of wine. The bottle cost more than some members of New Edge brought down in a month or so but fuck it. Judas was right. Maybe there were other ways to show people who the fuck Valora was. Valora took a breath, enjoying the looks she got from people. Enjoying the fact that she made them uncomfortable. “Maybe. So.. how do you think we should attack this match?”
Judas sat and thought for a moment. “Well. We both know Kronin and can shut him down. Slater’s too beat up to be much threat without Kronin so that leaves the chumps.”
Domestik Disturbance, aka the worst tag team to EVER be in the hall of fame. Hunter Valentyne, who has chronic diarrhea of the mouth and makes promises he’s never able to fulfill. And his partner, Johnny Stylez who speaks English like a retarded 3rd graded that was repeatedly beat in the head with baseball bat and fried away his remaining 5 brain cells with pot. Both are the same in ways and different in others. Johnny Stylez has been to the mountain top. 5 times. Granted some of them were handed to him but, meh.. if you know how to play the game and whose dick to suck... more power to you, Johnny.
Then you have... Hunter Valentyne. A man dragged to glory by Johnny and has been weighing Johnny down ever since. Hunter is in the same class as Roger Wright and American Icon. People who don’t realize their fuckin’ time is up and they should go retire and preferably find a nice spot of the world to go die in. Every match, he guarantees a win... and he usually loses. Now that his name is sinking, he’s trying to pick a fight with me, hoping I will drag him back into the spotlight and make him relevant.. at least until I beat his ass bloody again. I have more important people to deal with... like a mouthy Puerto Rican whore that thinks she’s fuckin’ Thor or somethin’ with that warhammer of hers...
Focus, Valora...
Anyways. Hunter Valntyne, myth in his own mind and myth killer of no one. I’ve beaten more legends than he has. Come this Ignite. Judas and I are walking out with gold...
“Hunter can’t do shit. Johnny’s good, but he ain’t good enough to beat you, me, and the two gringos.” Valora says leaning back in her chair. “Domestic Disturbance? I think you and I can show them what a real domestic disturbance is and what real tag team champs look like.”
Valora takes another drink. There’s still the issue. The hug back on the ranch in Texas. Dathan got slapped for it and is thinking about it. Valora doesn’t like it because it made her feel....
Human
She takes another drink of wine and excuses herself, heading to the bathroom. Walking in, the women there quickly clear out. Valora sighs, closing her eyes.
I need a break. I’m the best there is at faking emotions, but it gets so tiring after awhile. I know, how can she have sex if she doesn’t feel? Simple. Apathy, Roe, Jen. I either got or am getting something from all of them. Everything I do has a purpose. Johnny and Hunter can write me off. It’ll make it that much easier for me to fuckin’ kill them. Slater and Kronin? Well... they won’t write me off but a plan exists for dealing with them too.
Judas Dathan. My partner. If you were watching New Edge circa 2011-2012, you probably thought you’d never see the day Judas and I would stop trying to kill each other and work together, but the man’s part Native American. One of the very few people that claim they got fucked worse than my people have. That’s what Judas and I have in common. Yeah, we ain’t hurtin’ for money now.. but both of us know what its like to be poor as shit. To wonder IF you’re gonna get a next meal. To wonder if your fuckin’ shack of a God damn house will hold up another day. I provide the lucha libre style and Krav Maga. He handles technical wrestling, submissions and Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. End result? Get in our way and we fuck your shit up.
Valora takes a few more moments, staring at herself in the mirror, her face cold and impassive. Finally she closes her eyes and heads out, heading back to the table. It was time to see what else Judas had in mind...
Valora was in heaven. Bleeding. Every part of her body hurt. She was inches away... Then Slater hit him and knocked her into Hunter and BOOM! The C-4 exploded and Hunter and Valora were dumped out to the bottom level.
Once more victory in my grasp. Once more I get inches away only to have victory snatched away from me. But I got one of my goals was accomplished. I bled and made people bleed in Japan. Slater won by the skin of his teeth and he and I both know why he won. No *official* proof yet. But then, I’m sure my instincts will be validated soon enough.
Valora was going through what the other psychology students at USC had dubbed their own version of the Kobayashi Maru. Modeled after the ever popular ‘Silence of the Lambs’ one of the Psych professors played the insane person. Sometimes, an actual criminally insane person was brought in. The goal was to see how much information the student could gain from a hostile witness. Valora had drawn the short straw. A former psychiatrist that had snapped, talked his patients into killing themselves. As Valora walked into view, the man laughed. It was an eerie, almost inhuman laugh. The laugh of a man that had truly stopped being human.
“So this is what the University of Southern Califor-nia has to send? How very fascinating. I wonder are you a real doctor, or just pretending? A student come to play with a guinea pig in a controlled environment and thus learn nothing?”
Valora had been ready for this and tried to keep calm. “Grad student. I have a degree in psychology.” Valora’s accent was still with her. It was an accent she would return to at times and other times try to hide. At this point in her life, it was an embarrassment to her aspirations and ambitions. The accent both Mexican and unmistakably marking her as being from South Central Los Angeles. The man smiled and looked Valora over once and again and smirked. “Remarkable. I’m amazed you can even pronounce the word ‘psychology’ let alone know anything about what the study of it entails. Why not a doctor? Are you too lazy, perhaps? I wonder if perhaps you can’t afford it or maybe you just aren’t smart enough. All interesting questions I suppose.”
Valora clenches her jaw and narrows her eyes a bit, “Maybe ju should tell me.” She visibly winces and closes her eyes as the accent slips out in her irritation. The man smirks. “I think you’re just another spic. A dumb wetback dragged off the streets and thrown into the college room to try and prove your people are good for something other than running laundromats, beings whores, working the fields or the ever popular being thieves and criminals. It’s pronounced Y-O-U, you dumb little mongrel bitch. If you can’t speak our language properly, do us a favor and don’t speak it at all.”
I’d like to say that racist asshole was my first, but I never killed him. In fact, after I completed my studies, I thanked him. One of the few gringos that are fuckin’ honest about their racist bullshit. As much as I’ll make him bleed, American Icon is at least honest too. I bring up the matter of honesty and racism because we’re chuck fuckin’ full of Bullshit in this match..
Lets look first at Matthew Slater. English. If you’re keeping track of the most misery and bloodshed caused worldwide... these inbred little fucks have to be near the top. Australia? Started off as a penal colony or England to send their undesirables. The English and the Chinese fought a war over fuckin’ drugs. Oh yeah, not to mention they started the slave trade, supported Apartheid in South Africa, enslaved Indians in India and killed the ones they couldn’t enslave and tried to destroy Irish and Scottish culture. But they’re really swell people once you get to know them...
Kronin. The quintessential White Knight. I’ve compared him to Batman for good reason. But he comes the undisputed masters of racism... the fuckin’ Nazis. Don’t tell me that Germany and England have changed either. Look at the money crisis sweeping Europe. England and Germany control most of the money in Europe. If you’re white, you get money no questions asked. If you’re Greek or Portuguese or non-white, then you better expect England and Germany to tell you how to run your God Damn country if you wanna borrow money. Team Racism. Last great hope of gringos everywhere.
“So... you eat here a lot?” Valora asked. The woman did look out of place wearing her New Edge hoodie, her trademark bandana woven in through her black and blue hair. Running down from the hoodie was a pair of blue jeans and combat boots. Judas looked around and smiled. “You’re a main eventer, Valora. One of the reasons no one takes you seriously is you don’t indulge. You gotta play the game in all its forms. Do the dance. Make Jesse pay for you to be in the nice hotel. Show up and be seen in the finer places. Hanging out in the slums is all well and good, but it won’t get you visibility as a main eventer.”
Valora sat and thought about this as she drank a glass of wine. The bottle cost more than some members of New Edge brought down in a month or so but fuck it. Judas was right. Maybe there were other ways to show people who the fuck Valora was. Valora took a breath, enjoying the looks she got from people. Enjoying the fact that she made them uncomfortable. “Maybe. So.. how do you think we should attack this match?”
Judas sat and thought for a moment. “Well. We both know Kronin and can shut him down. Slater’s too beat up to be much threat without Kronin so that leaves the chumps.”
Domestik Disturbance, aka the worst tag team to EVER be in the hall of fame. Hunter Valentyne, who has chronic diarrhea of the mouth and makes promises he’s never able to fulfill. And his partner, Johnny Stylez who speaks English like a retarded 3rd graded that was repeatedly beat in the head with baseball bat and fried away his remaining 5 brain cells with pot. Both are the same in ways and different in others. Johnny Stylez has been to the mountain top. 5 times. Granted some of them were handed to him but, meh.. if you know how to play the game and whose dick to suck... more power to you, Johnny.
Then you have... Hunter Valentyne. A man dragged to glory by Johnny and has been weighing Johnny down ever since. Hunter is in the same class as Roger Wright and American Icon. People who don’t realize their fuckin’ time is up and they should go retire and preferably find a nice spot of the world to go die in. Every match, he guarantees a win... and he usually loses. Now that his name is sinking, he’s trying to pick a fight with me, hoping I will drag him back into the spotlight and make him relevant.. at least until I beat his ass bloody again. I have more important people to deal with... like a mouthy Puerto Rican whore that thinks she’s fuckin’ Thor or somethin’ with that warhammer of hers...
Focus, Valora...
Anyways. Hunter Valntyne, myth in his own mind and myth killer of no one. I’ve beaten more legends than he has. Come this Ignite. Judas and I are walking out with gold...
“Hunter can’t do shit. Johnny’s good, but he ain’t good enough to beat you, me, and the two gringos.” Valora says leaning back in her chair. “Domestic Disturbance? I think you and I can show them what a real domestic disturbance is and what real tag team champs look like.”
Valora takes another drink. There’s still the issue. The hug back on the ranch in Texas. Dathan got slapped for it and is thinking about it. Valora doesn’t like it because it made her feel....
Human
She takes another drink of wine and excuses herself, heading to the bathroom. Walking in, the women there quickly clear out. Valora sighs, closing her eyes.
I need a break. I’m the best there is at faking emotions, but it gets so tiring after awhile. I know, how can she have sex if she doesn’t feel? Simple. Apathy, Roe, Jen. I either got or am getting something from all of them. Everything I do has a purpose. Johnny and Hunter can write me off. It’ll make it that much easier for me to fuckin’ kill them. Slater and Kronin? Well... they won’t write me off but a plan exists for dealing with them too.
Judas Dathan. My partner. If you were watching New Edge circa 2011-2012, you probably thought you’d never see the day Judas and I would stop trying to kill each other and work together, but the man’s part Native American. One of the very few people that claim they got fucked worse than my people have. That’s what Judas and I have in common. Yeah, we ain’t hurtin’ for money now.. but both of us know what its like to be poor as shit. To wonder IF you’re gonna get a next meal. To wonder if your fuckin’ shack of a God damn house will hold up another day. I provide the lucha libre style and Krav Maga. He handles technical wrestling, submissions and Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. End result? Get in our way and we fuck your shit up.
Valora takes a few more moments, staring at herself in the mirror, her face cold and impassive. Finally she closes her eyes and heads out, heading back to the table. It was time to see what else Judas had in mind...