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Allen Anderson sat his temporary office inside Joe Louis arena with three of LuLu Biggs’s hookers caressing him with soft supple hands. One was messaging his shoulders, the other was rubbing his bald head with her fingertips, and the third woman was doing something rather repulsive with her hand down Anderson’s pants. This was all transpiring while he smoked a fat Cuban cigar and sipped on aged Scotch whiskey. Across from him sat a frustrated looking Biggs and extremely high Slick Mick who was enjoying a fine blunt he’d just rolled in front of the Vice President of Operations.
Anderson: I think now Mr. Biggs you fully understand the problem I’m having. It’s like nothing I throw at this little shit stain of brat sticks. I’ve hired multiple assassins who’ve failed to get anywhere near him, my own bodyguard was killed earlier this week trying to end his pathetic existence, and now even you failed to put the ass whooping on him in the ring that you promised me.
LuLu Biggs: Muthah fuck’ah got lucky Anderson! Next time I’m going to crush him into scrap metal! You watch playah!
Anderson: Oh, I don’t doubt that… However, I find myself being rather annoyed that he’s been able to get away with so much the past few days. I don’t want him to gain any more confidence. The last thing I need is him thinking he can actually beat me at my own game.
Anderson reached it his expensive suits interior pocket and pulled out a strange-looking futuristic device the size of a black magic marker. The little silver looking object had a red button at the base and some sort of high-tech crystal lenses at the tip. LuLu looked at it confused before picking it up and holding up to his face to get a better look at it.
LuLu Biggs: What the fuck is this thing?
*Slick Mick: Brother, you ain’t seen Men in Black? That shit makes you forget things!
Anderson: No, a good guess though… That my good pimps is a War Hammer prototype pocket-sized EMP emitter that can short out any electrical component within a 25-foot radius. One push of that button and Jeremiah will be as blind as a bat and thinking with only the human half side of his brain and trust me I’ve seen his childhood test scores; pure 100% dunce.
LuLu smiled a sinister smile and looked straight directly at his confidant and best friend Slick who smiled back at him revealing a series of gold teeth and sporting the same sinister smile while nodding in agreement.
LuLu Biggs: Why don’t we go pay Robo-Boy visit and teach him that you don’t mess with a pimp in front of his ho’s…
Slick Mick: Hell yeah! I’m going shove my pimp cane so far up his ass he’s going need an oil change after I’m done with him!
Anderson laid back and relaxed in his chair as the girls tended to his every need. He let out an exhalation of joy as Biggs and Slick got up out of their chairs and made their way to the exit.
As the feed cut back to ringside the camera was fixated on Rose Johnston in the center of the ring. Johnston had undergone a quick patriotic wardrobe change during the break and was now sporting a red, white, and blue ensemble. She stood in the ring ready to announce the main event match to the fans in attendance as the men gawked at her beauty.
Rose: The following main event matchup is set for one fall and is between the greatest competitive fighters the U.S.A and Russia have to offer! The pride of these two nations is on the line tonight right here in Detroit city!
A “U.S.A” chant began to take hold over the crowd in the Joe as they started to get fired up for the highly anticipated match. The crowd then abruptly erupted into boos as the Russian national anthem began to play for Boris Drago and Dasha Ivanova.
Rose: Making their way onto the stage now, hailing from Moscow Russia! Weighing in at a combined weight of 530 pounds! The seven-foot, three-inch, monster, known throughout Siberia as Boris Drago and his partner the deadly femme fatal Dasha Ivanova!!!
Boris and Dasha walked out onto the stage with ice in their veins and a laser-like focus on the objective they were assigned to complete by the Kremlin itself. Boris was a massive man, with a shaved head, and covered in scars from fighting bears in the wilderness. Throughout his military career, he’d been sent on hundreds of missions for the Russian government in the northern wild remote regions of the Siberian countryside. The woman, Dasha was a stern, well-built woman, with the personality of a brick and the empathy of lizard. She wore a strange authoritarian uniform, unlike her comrade who was dressed more like an Olympic weight lifter in a red spandex leotard.
Chris Rodgers: Look at these Russian rejects! I find it offensive that they’ve even been invited here. I don’t know what Mr. Mudcock is thinking! Ever since that Anderson became VP of Operations here at Ultimate Wrestling thing’s around here have been changing and not for the better!
Scott Slade: Come on now Chris. President McStrump says the Russians are cool brother…
Chris Rodgers: Just because I voted for the man doesn’t mean I have to agree with everything he says and does damn it!
Scott Slade: Alright! Alright! Settle down, old man. You baby boomers… so sensitive.
As the Russians reached the ring, they made their way up the steel steps and began to warm up for their American opponents. As their music was cut “I Am a Real American” began to play on the arena’s speaker system. The Ultimate Wrestling Franchise Champion Huckleberry was the first to walk out from behind the curtain with his championship belt strapped around his waist. The fans gave the champ a mixed reaction until his arch-nemesis Valora walked out behind him. The entire arena exploded into an absolute frenzy when the Latina walked out from behind the curtain. It was clear that Huckleberry was jealous of Valora’s incredible fan support and he stared at her coldly as they made their way through aisle.
Rose: Their opponents!!! TEAM U.S.A.!!! Weighing in at a combined weight of 304 pounds! The Ultimate Wrestling Franchise Champion Huckleberry! And the former Franchise Champion and current Submission Specialist Champion… Valora!!! Salinas!!!
Scott Slade: The big question here is can these two work together Chris?
Chris Rodgers: Hell if I know, but they better set their shit aside and work as a damn team, otherwise it’s going to be an embarrassing night for all of us!
Valora and Huckleberry reached the ring and began arguing over who would start the match first for their side. Meanwhile, Dasha had already decided that Boris would be the first to fight for their side. She was a fierce, fiery, and ferocious woman and while shouting commands at Boris you could see she commanded his respect. Valora saw that Boris was starting first for the Russians and instantly gave in, and allowed Huckleberry to kick things off for their side to avoid having to fight an unknown giant of a man.
Chris Rodgers: So here we go. The whole world is watching. Nationalistic pride on the line. The stakes could not be higher Scott.
Scott Slade: Takes me back to the Cold War Chris. In a lot of ways, the Cold War is back and bigger than ever… this just seems fitting to me.
Chris Rodgers: Sadly, I couldn’t agree more Scott.
Referee Bob Sigro brought Boris and Huckleberry to the center of the ring and began having words with both of them about his rules and his expectations for the match. The atmosphere in the arena was electric and no one watching could help but make a David and Goliath reference between the two wrestlers. Sigro signaled for the bell and as soon as the bell had rung, Boris went straight after the little Appalachian hillbilly with extreme ferocity. He kicked him straight in the gut and then planted his head between his legs. He then began laughing as Huckleberry wriggled and squirmed trying to break free between his powerful muscular man thighs. The Detroit fans booed heavily as Boris jack-knife power bombed Huckleberry straight into the wrestling mat with extreme prejudice.
Scott Slade: Good God!
Chris Rodgers: That hulking Russian bastard just annihilated Huckleberry!
Huckleberry hit the mat hard and was sprawled out in a daze as Boris placed his right foot onto his chest confidently while pretending to yawn. Sigro dove to the mat to make the count, but somehow instinctively the little hillbilly immediately got his shoulder up as soon as he heard the referee pound the mat for the first time.
Scott Slade: Huckleberry somehow still conscious after that vicious powerbomb!
Chris Rodgers: Look at the arrogance of this ugly communist bear of a man. He tried to pin our Franchise champion with one foot! It’s going to take a lot more than that pin old Huckleberry though!
Scott Slade: He’s a resilient little hick that’s for sure Chris.
Valora watched with wide eyes as Boris reached down and grabbed the little Appalachian by his wrestling leotard in order pull him up off the mat and onto his feet. He then angrily tossed him into their corner and demanded that Valora get in the ring with him. Valora slapped Huckleberry in the back of the head before stepping into the ring. She then with no remorse, tossed her own tag team partner through the ropes onto the floor like a useless bag of trash. The fans roared with excitement and applauded Valora’s disregard for Huckleberry.
Chris Rodgers: What the hell is that crazy Latina doing? She just tossed her own partner on the floor! She just can’t be a team player that one! She can’t put the country ahead of personal interest! She’s just a bad seed! Always has been! Always will be!
Scott Slade: I have to agree partly, Chris. I think she’s going to need all the help she can get against this Boris Drago right now.
Valora rushed Boris and the Russian instinctively attempted to big boot her in the face. Valora used her incredible agility to slide through his legs to avoid the attack. Salinas was quick to get back on her feet and the slower Boris turned around just in time to receive a swift kick to the groin much to Bob Sigro’s frustration. Boris keeled over unable to shrug off the low blow and Valora used the opportunity to unleash a can of whoop-ass on the big Russian striking him repeatedly in the face with hard right hands. Valora pummeled Boris back into the ropes and then slung him across the ring to the other side. Valora then took off toward Boris and attempted to spear him, but the impact had the opposite desired outcome as Valora collapsed to the mat like she’d hit a brick wall. Boris stood there staring down at the Latina before bursting into laughter.
Chris Rodgers: Wow! The unstoppable force that is Valora just ran into the immovable object that is Drago and got stopped dead in her tracks!
Scott Slade: Boris seems to be thoroughly enjoying this Chris. Look at him! He’s just laughing at her! I think Valora may have injured her shoulder on that spear attempt. It was like she ran into a tree or something!
Boris grabbed Valora around her waist and then gut-wrench sit down power bombed her. He then attempted to hold Valora for a pin. Once again Sigro dove to the wrestling canvas for the count, but Valora kicked out after only a count of one, breaking free from her larger Russian opponent with pure aggression. Valora got to her feet and looked to make a tag to Huckleberry who was now back on the ring mat behind the ropes and extending his hand. Valora dove to make the tag, but Huckleberry purposely pulled his hand away. He began scratching his head pretending to be confused before giving Valora the double fingered salute. He then jumped down from the ring back onto the floor and started heading back toward the stage.
Chris Rodgers: What the hell?
Scott Slade: I think Huckleberry is over this! I think that stunt Valora pulled sealed the deal. He’s walking out!
Huckleberry began to walk back up the ramp leaving Valora alone with the Russian duo. Boris grabbed Valora by her hair and tossed her into their corner where Ivanova was waiting. Dasha ran up and nailed Valora in the back of the head with a powerful discus elbow shot. Valora collapsed to the mat as Boris walked over to her and began stomping a Russian 14-inch sized mudhole in her. Meanwhile, the fans had completely lost it chanting “Fuckle-berry is a Trader” over and over as he made his way up the ramp. Just as the little Appalachian turned around to give everyone in the arena the finger, the same masked man who had attacked Valora during the Hell In The Cell 4 way match during Friday Night Clash 8 rushed out and tackled the hillbilly to the ground and began beating on him.
Chris Rodgers: What the hell? That’s that star-spangled masked man who attacked Valora weeks ago! Why on earth is he attacking Huckleberry?
Scott Slade: Who the hell is this guy and what does that R on his forehead even stand for?
Chris Rodgers: Wait a minute! He’s dragging Huckleberry back to the ring kicking and screaming! I think he wants him to get back in the fight!
Scott Slade: Just when I thought I’d seen it all…
The man in the blue cowl tossed Huckleberry back into the ring and began shouting and pointing at the two Russians who were too occupied with stomping Valora half to death to notice them. The fans roared with excitement as Huckleberry got back onto his feet and realized he was being forced to fight by this strange man in a mask. With his pathway to the locker rooms blocked he turned his attention to the Russians who had now noticed him and were coming his way. Huckleberry bounced off the ropes and ducked under both their arms as they tried to clothesline him. As he bounced off the other side of the ring ropes and came toward them he attempted to go for some sort of move, but instead, Borris picked him up over his head giving the incredibly athletic Dasha the opportunity to jump into the air and together deliver an epic 3D Dudley Death Drop they call the Hammer and Sickle.
Chris Rodgers: Good God! I think they broke his neck!
Scott Slade: This is not going well. At least he’s not the legal man in the ring.
Valora had managed to crawl back up onto her feet with the help of the turnbuckles as support. Dasha rushed in, grabbed her by her head, and then catapulted to the center of the ring where Boris delivered a violent guillotine clothesline that whiplashed Valora into a 360 before she landed hard on her back on the ring mat. The Detroit fans booed relentlessly as he covered her for a pin.
Scott Slade: Ooooh man! Valora will be in a neck brace for a week after that!
Chris Rodgers: Boris with a pin!
Scott Slade: ONE! TWO! THREE! No! I can’t believe it! The Russians have defeated us on our home soil!
Chris Rodgers: I’ve never… I’ve never been more embarrassed to call myself an American Scott! This is a travesty!
The Russian national anthem began to play loudly as referee Bob Sigro reluctantly raised Boris and Dasha’s hands into the air officially declaring them the winners of the tag team bout. The masked man who had drug Huckleberry back to the ring looked furious as the Russians celebrated. He quickly reached into what could only be described as a utility belt much Batman would wear and pulled out a police taser before sliding into the ring.
Scott Slade: Wait a minute! This star-spangled nut jobs actually getting the ring! I think he’s got a taser! These idiots are going to cause a nightmare of an international incident!
Chris Rodgers: Hell yeah! It’s about time someone did something!
Dasha and Boris never saw the cowled crusader coming as he came up from behind and sent a nerve-shattering shock up Boris’s spine. The large seven-foot Russian’s body contorted strangely for a good ten seconds before the big man collapsed to the wrestling mat. The fans roared in a frenzy as Dasha turned around to receive a nasty shock straight in the chest that blasted her hard onto her backside flat on the mat. The Russian brunette convulsed violently on the mat and began to froth at the mouth like a dog with rabies.
Scott Slade: He’s single-handedly taken them out with damn weapon!
Chris Rodgers: And these fans are God damn loving it!
Security and the medical team lead by Dr. William Drake rushed out from behind the curtain and down the steel ramp toward the ring. As soon as the masked man saw them coming he reached into his utility belt yet again and pulled out what looks like grappling gun and fired into the rafters. Just as security rushed into the ring the patriotic figure was pulled up into the rafters of Joe Louis arena like some kind of superhero. The security team watched as he disappeared quickly once he’d reached upper scaffolding of the ceiling.
Chris Rodgers: I can’t believe what I’ve just witnessed with my own two eyes! So many unanswered questions!
Scott Slade: Sadly they won’t be answered tonight. Fans we are out of time! From all of us here at Ultimate Wrestling tune in next as we travel the Louisville Kentucky for Friday Night Clash 12! Good night everyone!
Washington State: Mt. Vernon
The Sanctuary of the Blob
Inside the compound
8 Hours after FNC – 11
Janus and his acolytes stood in front of a new massive anti-chamber they had built for their watery master. Since consuming Ronald McStrump Jr. and the 32 secret service members who had accompanied him on their failed mission to abduct the Blob creature, it had grown at least ten times over in size. Not only had it grown in magnitude, but the God-like creature had sprouted six large squids like tentacles, fish-like eyes, and a mouth in which spoke to his acolytes, worshipers, and minions. The Blob’s skin color was purple like octopus and it floated in its seawater tank with ease and elegance. It was a sight to behold and it took Janus’s breath away every time he walked in to speak with his lord.
Janus: You wanted to speak with us, your grace?
The Blob: Yes… I have lost my control of President McStrump.
Janus: How can this be?
The Blob: How it came to be is none of your concern Janus! Your concern should be how to stop the force McStrump will be sending her to exterminate us and the commune we’ve built here! McStrump is a prideful and vengeful man. He will seek retribution in my destruction. You must defend me and the compound at all costs!
Janus: My lord, why not simply shield us as you did from the North Koreans missile strike?
The Blob: I am far too weak for that sort of miracle Janus. I would need to feed and I refuse to consume my own followers. No, this is a fight you and your brothers and sisters must fight. I will help where I can, but I cannot win this fight alone. Take your strongest warrior acolytes and the surviving mutates of the Mt. Vernon community and prepare for all-out war.
Janus: As you wish my lord…
To be continued!