Post by John Cable on Oct 20, 2022 13:19:03 GMT -5
The bright green pinspots swirl across the CCPE Arena as Trenches by Pop Evil plays. The Beast parts the curtain and makes his way down the ramp with a smile on his face as he looks at the Judges Table. His grin grew even wider as he made his way towards the new ring and rolled under the bottom rope and onto the Brawl Canvas.
John stood to his feet, straightened his dark blue blazer and cinched his tie back into its proper place before he smiled at the judges with as charming a grin as his disfigured face could muster.
“Hello. Thank you for having me here.” he said casually as he looked out across the panel of judges.
“The question today, Mr. Cable, is if you could fight anyone, real or fictitious, alive or dead, from any point in time, who would it be? Why them? And what would you say to them if you could?” the Tactful One, Larry Tact asks with no show of emotion or vague hint of interest.
“Well... I thought about this for a long time...” John starts slowly, the words deep and gravely rolling from his lips, the question weighing heavy on his features.
“If I could...” he begins again before a noise, high pitched and grating, like the souls of the damned themselves were tearing against the very fabric of reality, rending the relative silence of the empty arena, and John covers his ears with his hands and turns towards the entrance ramp behind him. The Judges stand at the table on ringside, terror-stricken as they take in the sight before them... a red and purple maelstrom. The rift grows and whirls out of control before the sound of reality around them actually shredding fills the room as a portal of black tendrils reaches out of the whirling orb of colors and begins to stretch out across the stands and the floors. In a haltingly jerking motion, like webbing reaching forward and taking hold only to launch itself further forward and take hold before moving even closer and closer, the tendrils of inky goop spread out across the arena in moments.
Then, over all of the chaos, the sound of the very building around them being ripped asunder as concrete chunks and splintered wood go flying across the room and the entire Rabbit is ripped away from its foundations revealing a pallid red sky devoid of a sun, dusty black sands billowing across the landscape outside like tiny shards of glass in the winds.
As the winds die down, among the rocky outcroppings of basalt and pumice stone scattered at odd angles all around, a many voices can be heard as one, a legion of tortured and depraved souls screaming out in one voice, forced to form the words of their singular master.
“Yes puny meatsack! If only you could fight a person, who would you choose? And how would you beg me for your insignificant life?” The voices ring out from all directions, unified in their cadence, but individual in their tones and inflections, all roiling against each other in their suffering.
John looks up as his inner demon of ages long past stretches first one long arm, then another through the whirling mass of colors and darkness before pulling it's horrendous horned head through the portal and into the newfound hellscape surrounding the ring and the table where the Judges are all now huddled against it, trying in vain to hide from their darkest nightmares incarnate. Two leathery wings stretch like skins upon a drying rack across ebony bones framing each one ending in claw tipped nubs at their joints spread out across the hellish red sky as the stench of sulfur and brimstone wafts across the space between them on the foul winds.
As more of the demonic monstrosity brings itself into the former arena turned pumice dessert in moments, John slowly unbuttons first one, then the second button of his jacket smiling. He slides one arm out of the sleeve, taking the shoulder opposite in one hand, and then the other as he slides out of his coat and folds it over his arm before laying it calmly over the ring ropes in the corner.
His once smiling face, now contorts into a smirk, before changing into a snarl, his lips curled at one corner, fang barred, and a low growl forms in his throat as the demon grows ever larger by the moment and the voices laugh in their multitude of tones at his audacity.
“Oh meatsack... it has been too long since I have been free to play! I am starving for your flesh... or perhaps one of the other wonderfully squishy meatsacks you have brought with you today?” the voices chortle and contort around one another as the words spill forth from the fuming, putrid mouth of the demon as he finally crawls fully into the world he has created.
“How about I remind you what happened the last time you dared to crawl out of the cage I left you in all those years ago, buried deep where you belonged, forever!” John spits the words as he tears his button up shirt from his chest, pulling the sleeves apart down his forearms as the threads unravel and tear to bits as he growls at the demon from the ring, muscles rippling.
“Oh how I love your rage, meatsack. I have craved it for so long... give it to me!” The demon squeals in glee as he takes a massive step towards John and the ring, eyeing the judges behind the ropes on the far side of the ring hungrily.
As the demonic behemoth moves towards John, the ring begins to smoke and boil as the canvas cracks and reveals molten rock beneath, melting away the ring cover as flames lick up the ring posts from the sulfurous sands below and race around the ropes dancing across the steel cables as gnarled and twisted barbs of metal uncoil from the steel and stick out in odd angles like hellish barbed wire.
“Oh yes, meatsack... unleash your anger and rage... satiate your craven desires of violence and wrath. Give in to your basest of needs, and feed the fury inside of you!” the voices crow in ecstasy, desire welling up inside the demon, the hope of a morsel of the delicacy of the Beast's rage... the delicious essence of his anger and fury... oh how he had missed it's delicate aroma of fear and indomitable will intertwined along it's fleshy bits. He had craved this in his solitude... and soon... he would taste this again.
“You have no power here. You have no leverage now. There is nothing left to take from me... and you have gone too long in the dark, locked away and forgotten for you to be a threat to me now. You are pathetic and weak.” John shouts at the demon from the now changed ring as the judges look on, cowering behind the table behind John.
“You are the pathetic one, meatsack, and now it is time to dine!” the demon shouts at him in the many voices as he lunges forward, jaws opening wide as thick green ropes of acidic spittle drape and sling from his toothy maw as he devours John in one gulp with an easy slurp and a satisfied grin.
“And now... for y...” the demon turns to the judges, grin widening as the terror of the three set in on them heavily and the Sauce Boss' pants begin to stain from the front as he whimpers behind the table.
Mid word... the monster's eyes bulge, the black veins thickening in his neck and face as his throat distends at odd angles, and he grasps at his neck with clawed fingers. The toothy maw, opens and closes, and opens again, before the charred and stony skin of the monster's neck splits with a gout of flame erupting from the wound. Blackened fingers claw from the inside to the out, stretching the skin of the demon as John Cable climbs out of the ever growing split in his neck and emerges covered in soot and gore, his beard singed and burned away as the demon's body falls around his feet.
The tendrils of black goo crawls back into the Hellish Portal swiftly, and drags the flaming hellscape and the demon back to the dimension from whence it had come before the Arena once more stood around them.
“As I was saying...” John began as he turned to look at the terrified judges before him on the floor below the ring, “Who would I fight...? The only challenges left for me to face are my own inner demons. If I can survive that fight, then I can face anything.” he finishes before laying the mic on the ring mat and rolling out of the ring.
John stood to his feet, straightened his dark blue blazer and cinched his tie back into its proper place before he smiled at the judges with as charming a grin as his disfigured face could muster.
“Hello. Thank you for having me here.” he said casually as he looked out across the panel of judges.
“The question today, Mr. Cable, is if you could fight anyone, real or fictitious, alive or dead, from any point in time, who would it be? Why them? And what would you say to them if you could?” the Tactful One, Larry Tact asks with no show of emotion or vague hint of interest.
“Well... I thought about this for a long time...” John starts slowly, the words deep and gravely rolling from his lips, the question weighing heavy on his features.
“If I could...” he begins again before a noise, high pitched and grating, like the souls of the damned themselves were tearing against the very fabric of reality, rending the relative silence of the empty arena, and John covers his ears with his hands and turns towards the entrance ramp behind him. The Judges stand at the table on ringside, terror-stricken as they take in the sight before them... a red and purple maelstrom. The rift grows and whirls out of control before the sound of reality around them actually shredding fills the room as a portal of black tendrils reaches out of the whirling orb of colors and begins to stretch out across the stands and the floors. In a haltingly jerking motion, like webbing reaching forward and taking hold only to launch itself further forward and take hold before moving even closer and closer, the tendrils of inky goop spread out across the arena in moments.
Then, over all of the chaos, the sound of the very building around them being ripped asunder as concrete chunks and splintered wood go flying across the room and the entire Rabbit is ripped away from its foundations revealing a pallid red sky devoid of a sun, dusty black sands billowing across the landscape outside like tiny shards of glass in the winds.
As the winds die down, among the rocky outcroppings of basalt and pumice stone scattered at odd angles all around, a many voices can be heard as one, a legion of tortured and depraved souls screaming out in one voice, forced to form the words of their singular master.
“Yes puny meatsack! If only you could fight a person, who would you choose? And how would you beg me for your insignificant life?” The voices ring out from all directions, unified in their cadence, but individual in their tones and inflections, all roiling against each other in their suffering.
John looks up as his inner demon of ages long past stretches first one long arm, then another through the whirling mass of colors and darkness before pulling it's horrendous horned head through the portal and into the newfound hellscape surrounding the ring and the table where the Judges are all now huddled against it, trying in vain to hide from their darkest nightmares incarnate. Two leathery wings stretch like skins upon a drying rack across ebony bones framing each one ending in claw tipped nubs at their joints spread out across the hellish red sky as the stench of sulfur and brimstone wafts across the space between them on the foul winds.
As more of the demonic monstrosity brings itself into the former arena turned pumice dessert in moments, John slowly unbuttons first one, then the second button of his jacket smiling. He slides one arm out of the sleeve, taking the shoulder opposite in one hand, and then the other as he slides out of his coat and folds it over his arm before laying it calmly over the ring ropes in the corner.
His once smiling face, now contorts into a smirk, before changing into a snarl, his lips curled at one corner, fang barred, and a low growl forms in his throat as the demon grows ever larger by the moment and the voices laugh in their multitude of tones at his audacity.
“Oh meatsack... it has been too long since I have been free to play! I am starving for your flesh... or perhaps one of the other wonderfully squishy meatsacks you have brought with you today?” the voices chortle and contort around one another as the words spill forth from the fuming, putrid mouth of the demon as he finally crawls fully into the world he has created.
“How about I remind you what happened the last time you dared to crawl out of the cage I left you in all those years ago, buried deep where you belonged, forever!” John spits the words as he tears his button up shirt from his chest, pulling the sleeves apart down his forearms as the threads unravel and tear to bits as he growls at the demon from the ring, muscles rippling.
“Oh how I love your rage, meatsack. I have craved it for so long... give it to me!” The demon squeals in glee as he takes a massive step towards John and the ring, eyeing the judges behind the ropes on the far side of the ring hungrily.
As the demonic behemoth moves towards John, the ring begins to smoke and boil as the canvas cracks and reveals molten rock beneath, melting away the ring cover as flames lick up the ring posts from the sulfurous sands below and race around the ropes dancing across the steel cables as gnarled and twisted barbs of metal uncoil from the steel and stick out in odd angles like hellish barbed wire.
“Oh yes, meatsack... unleash your anger and rage... satiate your craven desires of violence and wrath. Give in to your basest of needs, and feed the fury inside of you!” the voices crow in ecstasy, desire welling up inside the demon, the hope of a morsel of the delicacy of the Beast's rage... the delicious essence of his anger and fury... oh how he had missed it's delicate aroma of fear and indomitable will intertwined along it's fleshy bits. He had craved this in his solitude... and soon... he would taste this again.
“You have no power here. You have no leverage now. There is nothing left to take from me... and you have gone too long in the dark, locked away and forgotten for you to be a threat to me now. You are pathetic and weak.” John shouts at the demon from the now changed ring as the judges look on, cowering behind the table behind John.
“You are the pathetic one, meatsack, and now it is time to dine!” the demon shouts at him in the many voices as he lunges forward, jaws opening wide as thick green ropes of acidic spittle drape and sling from his toothy maw as he devours John in one gulp with an easy slurp and a satisfied grin.
“And now... for y...” the demon turns to the judges, grin widening as the terror of the three set in on them heavily and the Sauce Boss' pants begin to stain from the front as he whimpers behind the table.
Mid word... the monster's eyes bulge, the black veins thickening in his neck and face as his throat distends at odd angles, and he grasps at his neck with clawed fingers. The toothy maw, opens and closes, and opens again, before the charred and stony skin of the monster's neck splits with a gout of flame erupting from the wound. Blackened fingers claw from the inside to the out, stretching the skin of the demon as John Cable climbs out of the ever growing split in his neck and emerges covered in soot and gore, his beard singed and burned away as the demon's body falls around his feet.
The tendrils of black goo crawls back into the Hellish Portal swiftly, and drags the flaming hellscape and the demon back to the dimension from whence it had come before the Arena once more stood around them.
“As I was saying...” John began as he turned to look at the terrified judges before him on the floor below the ring, “Who would I fight...? The only challenges left for me to face are my own inner demons. If I can survive that fight, then I can face anything.” he finishes before laying the mic on the ring mat and rolling out of the ring.