Post by Crusher Crenshaw on Jul 13, 2015 17:20:07 GMT -4
Scene #1:
“The time has come”
Tick tick tick tick tick....
The sound of rats in the walls. The invasive rapping and scratching continuously emanates throughout a seemingly empty chamber. A dull sickly green light sways in the distance. All other vision is obscured.
Tick tick tick tick tick....screeeeccch!
Ears could bleed from the sudden and piercing scream of rusted iron bars wrenching back. The shadows of at least a half dozen men filter into the concrete confinement of the subject of today’s “check up”. Four of the shadows stay near the door, non descript in color or uniform. The two leading figures can only currently be described as the one to the right slightly taller than the other on the left. As they approach closer the sight becomes even harder to notice as the sickly green light is obscured by their average sized forms.
The leftmost one speaks in a tone eerily calm. Holding the accent of a man well traveled from parts of western & southern Europe yet primarily residing in the eastern coasts of the united states for most of his life, he gently places a trusting hand onto the shoulder of the terrifyingly massive form in front of him.
“Marcus...come this way please”
A response comes in the form of a low rolling growl of irritation. But despite the seeming vocal protest from being stirred, the brute shambles from it’s knees to a standing position. His first great step to form uprightness creates a reverberating thud throughout the chamber, dulling against the concrete structure yet echoing into the corridor before them. The formation of words escapes from the deep, rumbling cords of the monster.
“Sentence...me”
This declaration invites a scoff from the taller of the two handlers who has been yet unspoken, while an impolite chuckle ruminates from the aristocrat.
“In time, Marcus. All in due time. Come, we have much work to do.”
Thunderous foot steps follow the quiet stamping pitter patter of the half dozen individuals. The dry, dark chamber is left for closer illumination from the sickly green light, blinding those with unprotected eyes from the rudeness of it. There is another horizontal corridor that is opposite from the direction the hosts are heading, but as of now the only interesting note of this is the faint sound of inhuman howling that just barely passes below the threshold of perception.
Scene #2:
Six Hours Later...
We now join a scene in progress. Standing in the immediate vicinity is a man standing no taller than five-foot-eight. His hair short to the point of near shaven and black. Bespectacled in non-descript black shades, which seems a little awkward being as the current setting is indoors within the confines of a state of the arm gymnasium. Joining this man is a handsomely dressed yet altogether boring individual of importance, with merely an APW employee nametag with his picture on it with press pass showing that he has at least a modicum of clearance for dealing with the individual in front of him. Behind these individuals is a one way plexiglass window that opens into another room where the gargantuan “Crusher” Crenshaw is currently being ran through an elliptical machine by attentive personal trainers.
APW Producer:
Thanks again for being willing to see us on such short notice there Mr. Kaiser. You’ve got quite a prize fighter on your hands there...it seems like he’s having a bit of trouble though, should we come back to get a better shot at a different routine?
Upon further inspection of the training situation it does indeed seem as if The Crusher is having some difficulty getting his legs up and down consistently on the advanced workout machine. Crenshaws eyes bulging as veins protrude from his head in a most frightening manner. The bespectacled man purses out his lips while releasing what is quickly becoming a very unsettling regular chuckle whenever he hears something that he finds amusing. Folding one arm under the other while taking his foremost hand and resting it on his cheek primarily with the thumb and middle finger, he responds.
Jackson Kaiser:
I assure you, that won’t be necessary. You see, most elliptical machines as you may know them are designed to only apply pressure and speeds from a scale of zero to ten. Some highly advanced machines can increase this pressure to twelve. This idea is that the higher the pressure, the greater the muscle strength. While the faster you go, the better the cardio result. But here at Kaiser Corp we have procured highly experimental machines that can reach pressure levels in excess of fifteen to twenty.
The producers face whitens at the idea of putting that much pressure on a normal pair of legs. Knowing from his own personal experience if he worked out at level 12 he’d put his legs out of commission for at least a day or two from the pain. Sheepishly he inquires,
APW Producer:
Holy moley...what is he doing in there?
A bored tone is conveyed through the handlers voice as he replies,
Jackson Kaiser:
Oh nothing torturous mind you. He’s merely combating the pressures of level 17 right now. Shall we carry on with the purpose of this promotional meeting?
Staring dumbfounded at the musclebound monstrosity separating them, the producer clears his throat as he stammers to regain composure.
APW Producer:
Uh yes. We wanted to get your comments on your clients upcoming contest against APW Legend Sally Talfourd.
Jackson brings his hand down from his cheek and rests it across his crossing elbow. He stares intently at the producer without moving a further muscle.
Jackson Kaiser:
First of all it is an absolute honor that sir Buckson Gooch and Co. Have given my client this incredible vote of confidence to go one on one, in his debut contest no less, with the likes of the incredible Sally Talfourd. She has proven just as recently as your companies inaugural reunion show that she has very clearly earned her place in the upper echelons of APW’s all time greats. To even share the privilege of gracing a ring with this woman will be nothing less than a privilege.
There is an awkward pause. The official is not quite sure how to follow up on such a glowing review, so for better or worse he tries to stir up a bit of controversy into the proceedings.
APW Producer:
Are you not at all worried that your client is being set up for an embarrassing loss on his debut contest?
The following comment came so sharply and succintly that chills were sent down the producers spine from it’s frankness.
Jackson Kaiswer:
Oh make no mistake about it...Crenshaw is absolutely going to dominate Sally Talfourd.
Bluntness abounded with the reply of the official.
APW Producer:
Excuse me?
Again with the unsettling chuckle. The bespectacled Kaiser Corp CEO removed the shades of question to reveal an awkward gaze of aquamarine eyes. Ecapsulated by the gaze, the producer had to shake himself away from eye contact from what he had to assume was just a clever application of contact lenses. There was no way those eyes were natural.
Jackson Kaiser:
No doubt. Sally Talfourd is a legend. She is one of the greatest of our time. She has competed in contests so brutal, she most likely has a story for very scar she’s ever suffered or every broken bone ever experienced. I have the utmost respect and admiration for the “Last Magician” of wrestling. But unfortunately all the respect in the world cannot and will not change the fact that come two weeks from now, I will have the unfortunate pleasure of knowing I had ringside seats to the “Last Magicians” last match in the world of professional sports.
As unprofessional as it may seem at the time, the producer cannot help but scoff very loudly in a disrespectful manner. The very idea of some newcomer coming in and not only defeating Sally, but permanently crippling her is so offensive to the senses of any true APW fan that one must believe this man is....insane.
APW Producer:
I apologize...Mr. Kaiser, sir. But I think I speak for most APW fans when I say your assertion is ridiculous. As strong and powerful and menacing as your client, Crusher Crenshaw seems...surely the possibility has crossed your mind that her superior speed, technical prowess and cardiovascular ability is going to wear out your client if the contest goes any longer than a few minutes?
Jackson Kaiser meets the skepticism and directness of the producer with a smile so wide it’s borderline froglike in it’s unnatural creepiness. Showing a full head of teeth in immaculate condition, with the canines sharpened to aid in it’s stomach plunging sickness.
Jackson Kaiser:
You bring up a very good point, my boy. Young Sally is indeed faster, smarter and more conditioned than Marcus Crenshaw. Even moreso, she has the absolute unassailable support of the APW fans. Your problem lies in the fact that you are counting on this contest going any longer than a single headbutt, power slam and Nekrobomb before the inevitable, heart crushing three count. I believe that’s what makes this situation so bitter sweet. On the one hand, such a decisive and convincing victory against someone the status of Miss Talfourd is surely going to catapult my client right into contention of championship glory. The unfortunate part is the very fact that we will have to crush the heart of a million people as they witness the Last Magician perform the greatest disappearing act of all time!
Suddenly feeling very...unsafe in his current situation, the producer decides that now is probably the best of times to end this segment early before things get too out of hand.
APW Producer:
Well uhm...thank you very much for your time Mr. Kaiser. It has been a...pleasure. Please, don’t let me take up anymore of your time.
Without saying another word, the still cheshire grinning Jackson Kaiser releases one of his pale, bony palms out to be shaken by the nervous wreck of a producer. He nods the employee to the door without ever once breaking eye contact or releasing that cryptic, frightening smile.
Scene #3:
4 Hours Earlier...
We return to the room with the sickly lime green lights. There is a man dressed in white surgical gear with blue-green gloves hovering over the unconscious body of “Crusher” Crenshaw. The hulking mass of a man is strapped down with chains and leather restraints, with an IV inserted into one of his overly muscled arms pumping him with some sort of strange fluid. From each corner of the room there stands one black glad security guard with opaque hoods over their heads to obscure their features. From the corner emerges the clean pressed form of Jackson Kaiser.
Jackson Kaiser:
Doctor Hexen Vicor...how are your results coming a long for the specialized compounds I ordered?
The surgeons eyes light up as he rises from his hunched position. He snickers in delight as he addresses the man in charge of this sadistic project.
Hexen Vicor:
Wunderbar! I do believe this vill be my all time greatest achievement. Unfortunately, I fear I may neva profit from commercial release of such production eh?
Kaiser shakes his head in bemusement. He extends his arm towards the doctor with a lazily hidden exchange of a large roll of USD currency as their gentlemanly greeting becomes even more cordial.
Jackson Kaiser:
Surely you have greater faith in me than to assume you would not get payment for services rendered my dear doctor? Tell me, what makes this new compound so astounding. We need maximum results in as little time as possible.
There is a slight hint of irritation from the voice of Dr. Vicor as he responds. As if his employer somehow couldn’t trust that he would deliver on a compound that would be as efficient as possible? Regardless, an exchange of money has been made, so the response becomes nothing if not cordial and detailed.
Hexen Vicor:
Ah yes. You see...vithout getting too hairy into ze details, vere was many new steroid compounds created in the fifties. It vas how you say, ze golden age of anabolic research. Most of ze’s compounds vere released to ze public. But a few...highly restricted specimens remained unstable...unreleased for public consumption...I have acquired some of vese compounds. Supplemented vith ze likes of testosterone and Trenbolone to mask it’s origin...I believe ve can achieve anabolic muscle building scores in excess of six hundred-even seven hundred!
Jackson circles around the table, surveying his beast from every possible angle as it slumbers easily from the effects of whatever tranquilizers that were strong enough to subdue him to this practice. His gaze darts again at the surgeon in his most direct manner.
Jackson Kaiser:
I find it humorous that you feel masking the origins of your secret compounds with Trenbolone, an illegal to use athletic substance...how do you expect my monster to be able to legally compete and gather funds for Kaiser Corps if he’s being injected with illegal steroids?
Interestingly enough, rather than feeling challenged by this latest inquiry, the good doctor seems to brighten even further at the chance to explain the processes behind his genius.
Hexen Vicor:
Aha, you see...our patient has a very...unique condition. Von could argue zat vithout the aid of artificial muscle growth, his entire body vould deteriorate. As his primary physician...heheh, I has ze authority to authorize a prescription for schedule three drugs in cases of extreme need. Trenbolone falls into zis category, see? Even ifs zis compounds vere to appear in an extensive drug test, nobody but a small handful of us alive back in 1956 vould even know zis are anyzing more than side effects of ze Trenbolone!
The mogul nods his head in hesitant understanding. Although it is clear in the medical side of things how he will get away with throwing an artificial monster into the ring with Sally Talfourd, it will be a different matter entirely to handle any discrepancies in the court of law as to why an individual who needs muscle growth to survive could still be allowed to compete without question.
Jackson Kaiser:
As always my dear doctor, you never fail to impress me.
But that was a matter for another day. For now, the Kaiser Corps CEO must prepare his monster for a test run. After all, they would be meeting with a producer from APW in a mere four hours. It was time to wake the Crusher.
“The time has come”
Tick tick tick tick tick....
The sound of rats in the walls. The invasive rapping and scratching continuously emanates throughout a seemingly empty chamber. A dull sickly green light sways in the distance. All other vision is obscured.
Tick tick tick tick tick....screeeeccch!
Ears could bleed from the sudden and piercing scream of rusted iron bars wrenching back. The shadows of at least a half dozen men filter into the concrete confinement of the subject of today’s “check up”. Four of the shadows stay near the door, non descript in color or uniform. The two leading figures can only currently be described as the one to the right slightly taller than the other on the left. As they approach closer the sight becomes even harder to notice as the sickly green light is obscured by their average sized forms.
The leftmost one speaks in a tone eerily calm. Holding the accent of a man well traveled from parts of western & southern Europe yet primarily residing in the eastern coasts of the united states for most of his life, he gently places a trusting hand onto the shoulder of the terrifyingly massive form in front of him.
“Marcus...come this way please”
A response comes in the form of a low rolling growl of irritation. But despite the seeming vocal protest from being stirred, the brute shambles from it’s knees to a standing position. His first great step to form uprightness creates a reverberating thud throughout the chamber, dulling against the concrete structure yet echoing into the corridor before them. The formation of words escapes from the deep, rumbling cords of the monster.
“Sentence...me”
This declaration invites a scoff from the taller of the two handlers who has been yet unspoken, while an impolite chuckle ruminates from the aristocrat.
“In time, Marcus. All in due time. Come, we have much work to do.”
Thunderous foot steps follow the quiet stamping pitter patter of the half dozen individuals. The dry, dark chamber is left for closer illumination from the sickly green light, blinding those with unprotected eyes from the rudeness of it. There is another horizontal corridor that is opposite from the direction the hosts are heading, but as of now the only interesting note of this is the faint sound of inhuman howling that just barely passes below the threshold of perception.
Scene #2:
Six Hours Later...
We now join a scene in progress. Standing in the immediate vicinity is a man standing no taller than five-foot-eight. His hair short to the point of near shaven and black. Bespectacled in non-descript black shades, which seems a little awkward being as the current setting is indoors within the confines of a state of the arm gymnasium. Joining this man is a handsomely dressed yet altogether boring individual of importance, with merely an APW employee nametag with his picture on it with press pass showing that he has at least a modicum of clearance for dealing with the individual in front of him. Behind these individuals is a one way plexiglass window that opens into another room where the gargantuan “Crusher” Crenshaw is currently being ran through an elliptical machine by attentive personal trainers.
APW Producer:
Thanks again for being willing to see us on such short notice there Mr. Kaiser. You’ve got quite a prize fighter on your hands there...it seems like he’s having a bit of trouble though, should we come back to get a better shot at a different routine?
Upon further inspection of the training situation it does indeed seem as if The Crusher is having some difficulty getting his legs up and down consistently on the advanced workout machine. Crenshaws eyes bulging as veins protrude from his head in a most frightening manner. The bespectacled man purses out his lips while releasing what is quickly becoming a very unsettling regular chuckle whenever he hears something that he finds amusing. Folding one arm under the other while taking his foremost hand and resting it on his cheek primarily with the thumb and middle finger, he responds.
Jackson Kaiser:
I assure you, that won’t be necessary. You see, most elliptical machines as you may know them are designed to only apply pressure and speeds from a scale of zero to ten. Some highly advanced machines can increase this pressure to twelve. This idea is that the higher the pressure, the greater the muscle strength. While the faster you go, the better the cardio result. But here at Kaiser Corp we have procured highly experimental machines that can reach pressure levels in excess of fifteen to twenty.
The producers face whitens at the idea of putting that much pressure on a normal pair of legs. Knowing from his own personal experience if he worked out at level 12 he’d put his legs out of commission for at least a day or two from the pain. Sheepishly he inquires,
APW Producer:
Holy moley...what is he doing in there?
A bored tone is conveyed through the handlers voice as he replies,
Jackson Kaiser:
Oh nothing torturous mind you. He’s merely combating the pressures of level 17 right now. Shall we carry on with the purpose of this promotional meeting?
Staring dumbfounded at the musclebound monstrosity separating them, the producer clears his throat as he stammers to regain composure.
APW Producer:
Uh yes. We wanted to get your comments on your clients upcoming contest against APW Legend Sally Talfourd.
Jackson brings his hand down from his cheek and rests it across his crossing elbow. He stares intently at the producer without moving a further muscle.
Jackson Kaiser:
First of all it is an absolute honor that sir Buckson Gooch and Co. Have given my client this incredible vote of confidence to go one on one, in his debut contest no less, with the likes of the incredible Sally Talfourd. She has proven just as recently as your companies inaugural reunion show that she has very clearly earned her place in the upper echelons of APW’s all time greats. To even share the privilege of gracing a ring with this woman will be nothing less than a privilege.
There is an awkward pause. The official is not quite sure how to follow up on such a glowing review, so for better or worse he tries to stir up a bit of controversy into the proceedings.
APW Producer:
Are you not at all worried that your client is being set up for an embarrassing loss on his debut contest?
The following comment came so sharply and succintly that chills were sent down the producers spine from it’s frankness.
Jackson Kaiswer:
Oh make no mistake about it...Crenshaw is absolutely going to dominate Sally Talfourd.
Bluntness abounded with the reply of the official.
APW Producer:
Excuse me?
Again with the unsettling chuckle. The bespectacled Kaiser Corp CEO removed the shades of question to reveal an awkward gaze of aquamarine eyes. Ecapsulated by the gaze, the producer had to shake himself away from eye contact from what he had to assume was just a clever application of contact lenses. There was no way those eyes were natural.
Jackson Kaiser:
No doubt. Sally Talfourd is a legend. She is one of the greatest of our time. She has competed in contests so brutal, she most likely has a story for very scar she’s ever suffered or every broken bone ever experienced. I have the utmost respect and admiration for the “Last Magician” of wrestling. But unfortunately all the respect in the world cannot and will not change the fact that come two weeks from now, I will have the unfortunate pleasure of knowing I had ringside seats to the “Last Magicians” last match in the world of professional sports.
As unprofessional as it may seem at the time, the producer cannot help but scoff very loudly in a disrespectful manner. The very idea of some newcomer coming in and not only defeating Sally, but permanently crippling her is so offensive to the senses of any true APW fan that one must believe this man is....insane.
APW Producer:
I apologize...Mr. Kaiser, sir. But I think I speak for most APW fans when I say your assertion is ridiculous. As strong and powerful and menacing as your client, Crusher Crenshaw seems...surely the possibility has crossed your mind that her superior speed, technical prowess and cardiovascular ability is going to wear out your client if the contest goes any longer than a few minutes?
Jackson Kaiser meets the skepticism and directness of the producer with a smile so wide it’s borderline froglike in it’s unnatural creepiness. Showing a full head of teeth in immaculate condition, with the canines sharpened to aid in it’s stomach plunging sickness.
Jackson Kaiser:
You bring up a very good point, my boy. Young Sally is indeed faster, smarter and more conditioned than Marcus Crenshaw. Even moreso, she has the absolute unassailable support of the APW fans. Your problem lies in the fact that you are counting on this contest going any longer than a single headbutt, power slam and Nekrobomb before the inevitable, heart crushing three count. I believe that’s what makes this situation so bitter sweet. On the one hand, such a decisive and convincing victory against someone the status of Miss Talfourd is surely going to catapult my client right into contention of championship glory. The unfortunate part is the very fact that we will have to crush the heart of a million people as they witness the Last Magician perform the greatest disappearing act of all time!
Suddenly feeling very...unsafe in his current situation, the producer decides that now is probably the best of times to end this segment early before things get too out of hand.
APW Producer:
Well uhm...thank you very much for your time Mr. Kaiser. It has been a...pleasure. Please, don’t let me take up anymore of your time.
Without saying another word, the still cheshire grinning Jackson Kaiser releases one of his pale, bony palms out to be shaken by the nervous wreck of a producer. He nods the employee to the door without ever once breaking eye contact or releasing that cryptic, frightening smile.
Scene #3:
4 Hours Earlier...
We return to the room with the sickly lime green lights. There is a man dressed in white surgical gear with blue-green gloves hovering over the unconscious body of “Crusher” Crenshaw. The hulking mass of a man is strapped down with chains and leather restraints, with an IV inserted into one of his overly muscled arms pumping him with some sort of strange fluid. From each corner of the room there stands one black glad security guard with opaque hoods over their heads to obscure their features. From the corner emerges the clean pressed form of Jackson Kaiser.
Jackson Kaiser:
Doctor Hexen Vicor...how are your results coming a long for the specialized compounds I ordered?
The surgeons eyes light up as he rises from his hunched position. He snickers in delight as he addresses the man in charge of this sadistic project.
Hexen Vicor:
Wunderbar! I do believe this vill be my all time greatest achievement. Unfortunately, I fear I may neva profit from commercial release of such production eh?
Kaiser shakes his head in bemusement. He extends his arm towards the doctor with a lazily hidden exchange of a large roll of USD currency as their gentlemanly greeting becomes even more cordial.
Jackson Kaiser:
Surely you have greater faith in me than to assume you would not get payment for services rendered my dear doctor? Tell me, what makes this new compound so astounding. We need maximum results in as little time as possible.
There is a slight hint of irritation from the voice of Dr. Vicor as he responds. As if his employer somehow couldn’t trust that he would deliver on a compound that would be as efficient as possible? Regardless, an exchange of money has been made, so the response becomes nothing if not cordial and detailed.
Hexen Vicor:
Ah yes. You see...vithout getting too hairy into ze details, vere was many new steroid compounds created in the fifties. It vas how you say, ze golden age of anabolic research. Most of ze’s compounds vere released to ze public. But a few...highly restricted specimens remained unstable...unreleased for public consumption...I have acquired some of vese compounds. Supplemented vith ze likes of testosterone and Trenbolone to mask it’s origin...I believe ve can achieve anabolic muscle building scores in excess of six hundred-even seven hundred!
Jackson circles around the table, surveying his beast from every possible angle as it slumbers easily from the effects of whatever tranquilizers that were strong enough to subdue him to this practice. His gaze darts again at the surgeon in his most direct manner.
Jackson Kaiser:
I find it humorous that you feel masking the origins of your secret compounds with Trenbolone, an illegal to use athletic substance...how do you expect my monster to be able to legally compete and gather funds for Kaiser Corps if he’s being injected with illegal steroids?
Interestingly enough, rather than feeling challenged by this latest inquiry, the good doctor seems to brighten even further at the chance to explain the processes behind his genius.
Hexen Vicor:
Aha, you see...our patient has a very...unique condition. Von could argue zat vithout the aid of artificial muscle growth, his entire body vould deteriorate. As his primary physician...heheh, I has ze authority to authorize a prescription for schedule three drugs in cases of extreme need. Trenbolone falls into zis category, see? Even ifs zis compounds vere to appear in an extensive drug test, nobody but a small handful of us alive back in 1956 vould even know zis are anyzing more than side effects of ze Trenbolone!
The mogul nods his head in hesitant understanding. Although it is clear in the medical side of things how he will get away with throwing an artificial monster into the ring with Sally Talfourd, it will be a different matter entirely to handle any discrepancies in the court of law as to why an individual who needs muscle growth to survive could still be allowed to compete without question.
Jackson Kaiser:
As always my dear doctor, you never fail to impress me.
But that was a matter for another day. For now, the Kaiser Corps CEO must prepare his monster for a test run. After all, they would be meeting with a producer from APW in a mere four hours. It was time to wake the Crusher.
