Post by occulo on Mar 19, 2016 14:47:22 GMT -5
We open the scene fast and furiously, as Occulo swings a left hook at Itami's face, but he dodges with ease. He attempts a combo of lefts and rights, none of which connect.
Occulo: You're like a juggernaut with the agility of a butterfly
Itami: ...
Itami swings for Occulo and connects a punch right above his right eye. Occulo staggers back, reeling.
Occulo: Damn it!
Itami: Each time you speak out of turn, I open up your flesh
Indeed, there is a large gash above his eye which is bleeding profusely
Occulo: You-
Itami: Am I too fast for you my wisp?
Occulo looks at him, unsure as to whether he is allowed to answer or not
Come to me. You can't fight with your eye blinded with blood
He walks over to Itami, who reaches in to his pocket and removes a small hessian sack. Out of this pours what looks like gunpowder.
Close your eyes
He flings the powder and it lands in a clump in the gash. Occulo grimaces. Itami then takes his pipe out of his pocket and takes the herbs from it, gently stuffing it into the gunpowder. With a click of his fingers, the herbs, and subsequently the gunpowder erupts
into flames. Occulo yells in pain and drops to his knees, hammering the floor with his fist.
There. Now, fight.
Occulo takes a deep breath and stands through the pain. He shouts with anger and rushes Itami, frantically flinging lefts and rights, but to no avail. Itami, with one hand shoves Occulo's head and sends him to the floor.
Tell me why you cannot hit me
Occulo: (In heavy breaths) Because...because you're...because you're a freak...you shouldn't be able to move that quickly
Itami: Oh? I only need to move faster than your attacks. You have assumed I am slow because of my size. Occulo, you must face every opponent and fight them like they are the strongest and fastest in the world. Fight me as if you are trying to catch a butterfly.
Fight me as if you are trying to wrestle a bear. Only by doing this will you fight at your absolute best.
Occulo: Right. I got it.
Itami adopts a fighting stance and clenches his fists, Occulo does the same. There is a tense silence for a few seconds until...
Itami: Attack
Occulo rushes him again and attacks with much more ferocity. He swings with a right and this time connects. He doesn't let this accomplishment distract him however, and carries on landing blow after blow. Itami lands a chop to Occulo's neck, but he fails to notice this and carries on attacking.
Bring me to the ground
Occulo drives a brutal knee to Itami's gut, followed by a dropped elbow to the back of his neck, flattening him to the ground.
Good
Occulo nods and grins, but his eyes soon turn a disturbing shade of white and close as his body flops to the ground unconscious. Itami hops to his feet and walks over to his fallen opponent.
Itami: So much to learn. His Father was an absolutely terrible master.
He crouches down and rests two fingers on Occulo's forehead. He immediately springs back to consciousness.
Occulo: What...how did you...
Itami: I landed a blow to your neck whilst you were attacking me. You were so busy attacking that you forgot to defend. Or did you assume I would just let you attack?
Occulo: The latter I guess. You didn't say you were attacking.
Itami: This is a fight Occulo. Why wouldn't I attack?
Occulo: Fine. Let's go again.
Itami: Certain-
Occulo swings around in an instant and lands a thunderous kick to Itami's temple, who looks stunned at the combination of precision and force behind it.
Staggering
Occulo doesn't stop, he punches Itami square in the face, followed by a few more. Itami swings for Occulo who dodges. With a turn of the heel and a slight crouch, Occulo brings his fist behind his head, and with a lunge sends his fist right in to the sweet spot on Itami's gut. For the first time, Itami shows discomfort and pain, bending over forward.
Occulo: Yes
With a graceful leap he lands another swift kick to Itami's temple. The colossus sways, but then crashes to the ground as Occulo
lands one final kick. Itami lies on the floor motionless.
Akuma: Cute
Before Occulo can turn around Akuma delivers a brutal kick of his own, almost decapitating the student. He flops to the ground unconscious again.
Good start Wisp. You almost survived the warm up. Rise Itami.
Itami springs to his feet and walks over to Akuma
Itami: Well?
Akuma: He's doing well. He is, at least, eager to learn.
Itami: Yes, he's got the spirit. The ability will come. I am sure.
Akuma: I am sceptical, as it stands. He requires another test.
Itami: I'm sorry Master but I disagree, he is more than ready.
Akuma walks over to Itami and stares up into his eyes menacingly
Akuma: Itami, we both know how close I was to ending you the last time we disagreed. Don't make me finish you off.
Itami: He managed to bring me to the floor Master, none have done that at this sta-
With a single and forceful palm to Itami's forehead, Akuma sends Itami flying through the air and into a heap on the ground.
Akuma: His insolence still riles me. One would think he'd have learned by now.
He walks over to Occulo and lifts him from the floor by the scruff of his neck
I have doubts over you Occulo. You disappoint me.
He throws his limp body across the room, smashing it against the wall.
Eager to learn, yes. But you have no sense of consequence should you fail to master this art.
He kicks Occulo's body on to its back, and brutally kicks at his ribs, a cracking sound eminating with each blow.
Failing this art, however trivial it may be to you, is a matter of life and death for us all. You must share this urgency.
He opens his hand above Occulo's body, which dissipates into nothingness.
If we never see him again, then God help us
CUT
We see from the point of view of an eye which slowly opens, revealing a white sky.
Occulo: What...Akuma...
He attempts to get to his feet but yells out in pain as his broken ribs send agony coursing through his body
Jesus...okay...don't speak...
He slowly sits up with an intense grimace and takes some very careful deep breaths. His face is a sickly pale, and a cold sweat pours down his face. He is in the middle of a thick forest, the trees a jet, almost cartoon black against the pale white sky. He looked closer at the trees and realised that cartoon is quite an apt word, as they appeared to be two dimensional cut outs. He very slowly and painfully got to his feet, and approached the trees. He touched one, sending a ripple across its length, as if he was touching the surface of a pond.
He looks around on the spot for some sort of bearing and shook his head at the sheer lack of it. He stands still and remembers his previous experiences. He trusted the cloud and the lake and came up trumps, he must do the same with the forest.
He started walking in one direction for what seemed like an eternity. The trees seemed to repeat themselves, and the exit to this surreal forest seemed no nearer. He stopped and shook his head, the pain of his cracked ribs growing with every hour, as his energy saps likewise. He coughs and yells in agony, sending a splatter of blood on to the ground.
Occulo: Shit...
He rests a hand on one of the trees and almost topples over as his hand seems to penetrate its surface, again as if he were touching a pond. He reaches in further, and tries to grasp at something, anything...he does so, grabbing what feels like a wooden branch. His face is a picture of confusion. He slowly moves his face towards the tree and peers through its surface. The branch is about forty feet above the ground, and, more alarmingly, he sees himself stood on the ground leaning through a nearby tree.
The fuck?
He grabs a hold of the branch and moves his whole body so he is now up a tree, forty feet above the ground. This tree, unlike the others seems to be a real tree. It consists of just one branch which he sits down on.
Now what?
He look around for options. The tree itself is far too cylindrical and smooth to climb down. The end of his branch is about six feet away from another tree which stands directly opposite. He snaps a bulky twig off the branch and throws it at the opposite tree. It disappears and a few seconds later bounces off his branch and plummets to the ground below. He looks up and sees the ripples of the twig's exit start to dissipate. Infront of the ripples is another slightly smaller branch but much higher up. He looks ahead and realises that the higher he gets, the more chance he'll see where the exit of the forest is...one fucker of a leap of faith awaits.
He slowly gets to his feet and takes a deep, painful breath.
Shit...shit...shit...fucking fear of heights...
He looks along the length of the branch and at the opposite tree. He nods his head.
A leap of faith...oh jesus...
He closes his eyes for a couple of seconds and then slowly opens them. He nods and runs across the length of the branch, before jumping off the end, falling through the surface of the tree and landing on his front on the branch above, just about holding on. He screams in agony. A bloodcurdling, nauseating scream. He is now about a hundred feet above the ground, and his palms are soaked in cold sweat. He lays still on the branch, the various knots digging in to his chest. His vision becomes blurred causing him to panic that he is losing consciousness...you're a dead man if you do that Occulo.
He pushes himself up, but this causes him to almost black out, forcing him to return to his prone position.
Fuck....fuck this...fu....
He snaps off another twig and angrily throws it to the ground below. It falls through a ripple on the ground and disappears. He stares with focus at the ripples and follows them up to the end of his branch.
Come on...come on Occulo...
He slowly and with a few bloody coughs crawls to the end of the branch. He looks down to the ground. His face is sheet white, and cold sweat pours off his shuddering face. Absolute terror courses through his veins and his heart beats with such ferocity that it sends pangs of pain across his chest.
I...I have no choice...
He goes to fall from the branch but his instinct clings on for dear life. He knew he had to do it. The worst that could happen...it was either die instantly as you hit the ground or die slowly on this branch. The best? Pray there is an ER Department on the other side of those ripples on the ground. Let go Occulo...just...
...let go
He closes his eyes and briefly sees Bonnie holding a baby wrapped in a light blue blanket. She smiles and disappears as he opens his eyes. He lets go of the branch and plummets to the ground below.
Bonnie...
He hits the ripples with no impact at all, but blacks out instantly. In the darkness he sees a familar figure...his Father...John Mullins.
Mullins: I wondered when you were joining me in Hell, you son of a bitch
He immediately wakes up in his dressing room back in America. He sits up absolutely soaking in sweat. He pats his chest with his hands...completely healed. No pain. He did it.
Occulo: What...oh my God...
He grabs a towel and dries his face with it.
Why am I back here? Was that a dream? What's happening? What the fuck is happening?
He hears a knock on the door and hesitates before seeing to it. He cautiously walks over and opens the door.
Itami: Congratulations
CUT
We re-open to Occulo in the ring doing some last minute training. He takes a deep breath and sits down in the corner. He then looks at the camera.
Logan, you know I've always looked at you with a smirk. I've never taken you seriously. Am I supposed to? I've never looked at you as a threat. Am I supposed to? Damn, you've done a piss poor job in convincing me to do so. Five Time World Champion Legend yet I never hear anyone talking about the great Logan. They talk about Jonny Fly and they talk about Beckman but who the fuck is Logan? Why am I not convinced? Why am I not shaking at the thought of stepping in to the same ring who has achieved so much and probably looks down on me like I'm some kind of minnow? Perhaps Logan, it is because you've for some bizarre reason associated yourself with two absolute empty vessels. Dag Riddik and Chance von Crank sound like some kind of kids' slapstick cartoon who had their own Playstation 2 and Game Boy Colour game after it had some remote success.
Have you stopped trying Logan? Have you lost faith in your own abilities, so you joined a couple of absolutely mediocre wrestlers just to make yourself look good in comparison? "The Family", yeah, a family where married couple split up and argue over custody of their retarded disaster stories they call their children...except the argument isn't to gain custody, it's to palm it off to the other. Shower the burden on them. But you lost this cruel coin toss and you're left wiping their asses. How often do you have the vision of emptying a can of gasoline over their beds whilst they sleep and flicking a lit match, incinerating them in a blaze of relief.
Fucking Logan acting like some kind of charity case. A man whose career has been emblazoned with gold and confetti now associated with tin cans and garbage. Are "The Family" being sponsored?
The scene cuts to a trailer park with some slow, sad piano playing in the background
Voice: In 2016, Five time World Champion Logan decided to offer his heart and assist those in dire poverty and hope. Logan had acquired much success in his time in the WCF and it is this time in the limelight that persuaded him to help those in the darkness. He took on two empoverished wrestlers. Empoverished of even the most basic living conditions, as well as wrestling ability and...
The voice wells up, frog in throat
...just about any substance whatsoever. Logan took them under his wing and called this...salvation "The Family". But Logan can't do this alone. Please, donate just $2 a month and Logan will try and find purpose in his new accomplices lives. Help "The Family". Help Logan.
We rejoin Occulo
Help "The Family" indeed. But you know what Logan? We're not about to take any prisoners. I care not for your history of success in this company. It doesn't matter. You've slacked off and turned into a ridiculous joke. If I had the success you had I would work harder every day to continue it. I'd push for the next belt and I would command respect. You've done fuck all of these things. People who enter this company know nothing about you, they see you in the back and just think "who's that old guy? nobody mentioned him in training, I don't recognise him". These same people would spot a Fly or Beckman, an Oblivion from a mile away. Because they have a trademark, they have something which makes them stand out. They are actual legends that are told again and again. You? You're a waste. A waste of gold, a waste of talent. Fitting it is then that you're spending your time with even worse wasters. Again, making yourself look good. I'll make you look the has been loser that you are. I'll expose you for all to see. I'll show you how people fight that actually want to be here. You may have the history Logan, but fucking hell, you sure as hell don't have a future.
Riddik. Fuck sake. Cunt. Cunt of the highest order. Have a medal. The Victoria Cunt medal. Riddik grew up researching America and politics and was disgusted at what the country had become. DID YA RIDDIK? DID YA REALLY? Oh fucking hell Che Guevara. Revolutionary. So you expressed disgust at your country, so what did you do? Take up Law at College? Begin a career in politics to turn the country around? Campaign to increasingly large numbers of people about your policies, your dreams, your vision of a better America? Gain a following and spark rumours that Mr President needs to look over the shoulder because Mr Anti-Liberal Riddik is bringing the powerhouse to Washington? Did you rally the millions and win state after state after state like the historical winds of change? Did you take on the President and sit on the chair in The White House and make America the glorious nation your parents told you about? Nah you fuckin took up wrestling, and became absolutely fucking shit at it.
What right do you have to complain about what state America is in, if you have made absolutely zero effort to make it better? You're Russell Brand. Yeah, that absolute definition of a cunt of a human being. Dresses like a cunt and tries to salvage his career by holding itty bitty political campaigns. He uses big words and because the population are so fucking stupid and we haven't heard these words before, the public misinterprets it as an above average level of intelligence and perhaps out of fear of not understanding and appearing stupid to their peers they just clap along and agree with everything he spouts. This is Russell Brand Riddik, and yes, you appear on TV just as much as a total prick as much as he does...if not more. Skip to 6:48, it'll be like looking in a mirror for you Dag.
(6:48)
"I would but I'm scared I'll become one of them". Is this your excuse too Riddik? When you expressed your disgust did you see yourself in the black suit and shudder at the thought of someone showing the same contempt for you? You pretentious, self-important little coward. I bet you built a little cardboard white house in your bedroom and played President. You moan and moan and moan about the all of the problems but when asked to step up and fix it, you'd hide away and give the same drivel Brand gave. You don't like the country you live in? Do something about it or FUCK OFF. You won't be missed. Go wrestle some trolls.
So what problem do you have with the WCF Dag? You really are absolutely the richest of the rich. You hate other competitors here because you see them as rehashed, manufactured and insincere characters designed to draw attention. What and you're not? Can you honestly call yourself original, organic and sincere? You're fucking not. You can't just come from Scandinavia and just put that on the table as your contribution of originality. You can't just appear and blabber on about your political grumbles and say "Yep, because nobody else here has any political opinions". You're absolutely the very definition of manufactured and rehashed.
Gimmick: Foreigner who hates America joins fed and channels his hatred to his opponents.
Jesus.
"Come with me, and you'll be, in a world of pure imagination"
I actually physically hate you Dag. You're just absolutely not what you think you are. Here's the difference:
What you think you are: Neo Revolutionary standing up for his country's beliefs in a foreign country
What you are: Bitter Scandinavian who needs to read a dictionary
I should apologise really for the heinous amount of scrolling I put you through all there, but honestly the difference is that vast, as is the difference in our wrestling ability. You're going to get absolutely battered here. Honestly. Your head is so far up your own ass talking to your own shit about your opinions, because your own shit is the only thing that speaks the same language as you, that you can't see a punch coming from a mile away.
Dag Riddik? Damn Ridiculous. You're an absolute laughing stock. You WANT us to hate you for your unpopular beliefs so you can say "I'll STAND up against your hate". But ya know what Dag? As I said before, we've seen it time and time again. You're just another lowercase name on a long list.
Boring
Boring
Dag Riddik is boring.
Neo Nordicist. No. Insignificant cunt. Yes. Proud Scandinavian. No. Bitter cunt. Yes. I hope you get deported Dag. You deserve it. Logan I absolutely resent you for making a conscious decision to associate with this piece of shit. Do you know what Dag will say in response to this everyone? He'll call me something along the lines of "A mindless sheep herded by the US Government" AM I DAG? AM I? Nah Dag. You're the sheep, and I'm the wolf that is going to sink its teeth in to your throat, sinking them nice and deep in and around your jugular, then ripping it in to oblivion spraying blood cells and flesh all over the ground on which you have no right to stand on. Clean it up, bitch.
You really are the most stupid person I have come across. Yet you moan about stupid people. You are absolutely the biggest hypocrit in every way. It's absolutely embarrassing. You are absolutely everything you say you hate. You fit the definition of what you hate more than the people you are using it against. You're bland, unoriginal, standard, classic, rehashed, manufactured, insincere and worst of all, again, you're painfully stupid.
You think you're:
when you're actually:
You think you're:
when you're actually:
You think you're:
when you're actually:
Get the fucking picture Dag? Nah probably not because you shut yourself off from opposing opinions. So, I'll tell you what, you come down that ramp on Sunday night bringing all the attitude you want, all the hatred you want, all the condoscension you want and we'll slap it out of you. We'll stamp it out of you. We'll crush your neck and make you stare us in the eyes as slowly you'll feel as tiny as you should do when you stand up to a power that is far bigger than you could ever imagine. Bring it the fuck on you stupid moron, I don't know if you have kids or not, but they'll see with teary eyes just how much of an abject failure their father is.
That brings us lastly to Chance von Crank. What the hell kind of name is that? Chance? Fucking no Chance. Logan treatin ya right Chance? Has he lent you a couple of mil to drag your sorry ass out of the trailer park? Nah course not. It'd be like bringing stray in to the home. You'd just walk in and shit on his carpet. With luck he'd just diagnose you with some kind of illness and have you put down.
Here we have folks, another guy who has offensive opinions that he uses to boost his own masculinity. How the fuck you can look down on ANYONE is an absolute mystery. Here is a concise explanation of how low you are:
Tree
Man
Dog
Dog's shit
Fly on dog's shit
Fly on dog's shit's shit
That shit covered in a homeless drunk's vomit
A crow eating the homeless drunk's vomit, and the shit
The same crow hit by a car, bursting its internal organs all over the road
The fly on the dog's shit from before now on the crow's sprayed organs
The fly spattered and liquidated on the windscreen of a car owned by a serial rapist
The fecal matter of the rapist seeping out of his gut as he crashes into a septic tank with the shard of windscreen with the liquidated fly on it ruptures his gut
The contempt of the lazy cop who can't be bothered to remove the rapists's body from the car so he just kicks it into the septic tank and watches it sink to the very bottom
The stench of the half decomposed rapist's body combined with the contents of the septic tank
The taste of the contents of the septic tank (years of shit, piss and spunk combined with the liquidated body of the rapist)
An AIDS infected man masturbating over the stench and taste of the contents of the septic tank
An obese woman licking the spunk from the top of the septic tank
Her vomiting this in to another woman's mouth
Masturbating over that
Chance Von Crank
Was that a bit grotesque? Was that a bit too disgusting? Well imagine how we feel having to look at you every fucking week. Imagine how we feel having to look inside your world every week. Imagine how we feel every time we hear your name every week. It's far more nauseating and disgusting than any of the images I have conjured up. How does it feel Chance, to know that your death would have absolutely no negative impact on a single person on the planet. Not only would nobody care, nobody would know.
Nobody would have a clue.
"What's that smell? It smells like a dead body"
"Oh? Chance must have washed"
"Ha, Fat Chance"
The stuff you come out with Chance, you see what it does is just reflect your own humanity and intelligence. Being a wrestler in the WCF is the absolute only thing you have to cling on to in life. I will take absolutely phenomenal and satisfying pleasure in kicking the shit out of you, breaking you to the extent where this life you cling to is snatched away and you fall deep into the oblivion that your trailer park life brings. That festering ants nest of incest and nil human values. You're a sub-human organism. An unneccesary essence of life. A mere statistic. I cannot even begin to imagine what your Father must have been smoking or which of your brothers or sisters he was fucking to condemn his sperm quality to the extent where YOU were the fastest. Imagine if you tripped on the way to your sister's egg and one of the other sperm got there first. Imagine what that person would have become...
Hitler?
Stalin?
Vlad Dracula?
Pol Pot?
Idi Amin?
Adam Young?
Ivan the Terrible?
Grime?
Mao Zedong?
Katherine Phoenix?
No...far, far, far worse, at least they had ambition....no, it would become an inferior being to you. Oh, the humanity. I've grown tired and a little sick to the stomach talking about you Chance, just let it be known, we're going to absolutely and greviously shatter you on Sunday night. You might as well be fucking dead.
CUT
Occulo: You're like a juggernaut with the agility of a butterfly
Itami: ...
Itami swings for Occulo and connects a punch right above his right eye. Occulo staggers back, reeling.
Occulo: Damn it!
Itami: Each time you speak out of turn, I open up your flesh
Indeed, there is a large gash above his eye which is bleeding profusely
Occulo: You-
Itami: Am I too fast for you my wisp?
Occulo looks at him, unsure as to whether he is allowed to answer or not
Come to me. You can't fight with your eye blinded with blood
He walks over to Itami, who reaches in to his pocket and removes a small hessian sack. Out of this pours what looks like gunpowder.
Close your eyes
He flings the powder and it lands in a clump in the gash. Occulo grimaces. Itami then takes his pipe out of his pocket and takes the herbs from it, gently stuffing it into the gunpowder. With a click of his fingers, the herbs, and subsequently the gunpowder erupts
into flames. Occulo yells in pain and drops to his knees, hammering the floor with his fist.
There. Now, fight.
Occulo takes a deep breath and stands through the pain. He shouts with anger and rushes Itami, frantically flinging lefts and rights, but to no avail. Itami, with one hand shoves Occulo's head and sends him to the floor.
Tell me why you cannot hit me
Occulo: (In heavy breaths) Because...because you're...because you're a freak...you shouldn't be able to move that quickly
Itami: Oh? I only need to move faster than your attacks. You have assumed I am slow because of my size. Occulo, you must face every opponent and fight them like they are the strongest and fastest in the world. Fight me as if you are trying to catch a butterfly.
Fight me as if you are trying to wrestle a bear. Only by doing this will you fight at your absolute best.
Occulo: Right. I got it.
Itami adopts a fighting stance and clenches his fists, Occulo does the same. There is a tense silence for a few seconds until...
Itami: Attack
Occulo rushes him again and attacks with much more ferocity. He swings with a right and this time connects. He doesn't let this accomplishment distract him however, and carries on landing blow after blow. Itami lands a chop to Occulo's neck, but he fails to notice this and carries on attacking.
Bring me to the ground
Occulo drives a brutal knee to Itami's gut, followed by a dropped elbow to the back of his neck, flattening him to the ground.
Good
Occulo nods and grins, but his eyes soon turn a disturbing shade of white and close as his body flops to the ground unconscious. Itami hops to his feet and walks over to his fallen opponent.
Itami: So much to learn. His Father was an absolutely terrible master.
He crouches down and rests two fingers on Occulo's forehead. He immediately springs back to consciousness.
Occulo: What...how did you...
Itami: I landed a blow to your neck whilst you were attacking me. You were so busy attacking that you forgot to defend. Or did you assume I would just let you attack?
Occulo: The latter I guess. You didn't say you were attacking.
Itami: This is a fight Occulo. Why wouldn't I attack?
Occulo: Fine. Let's go again.
Itami: Certain-
Occulo swings around in an instant and lands a thunderous kick to Itami's temple, who looks stunned at the combination of precision and force behind it.
Staggering
Occulo doesn't stop, he punches Itami square in the face, followed by a few more. Itami swings for Occulo who dodges. With a turn of the heel and a slight crouch, Occulo brings his fist behind his head, and with a lunge sends his fist right in to the sweet spot on Itami's gut. For the first time, Itami shows discomfort and pain, bending over forward.
Occulo: Yes
With a graceful leap he lands another swift kick to Itami's temple. The colossus sways, but then crashes to the ground as Occulo
lands one final kick. Itami lies on the floor motionless.
Akuma: Cute
Before Occulo can turn around Akuma delivers a brutal kick of his own, almost decapitating the student. He flops to the ground unconscious again.
Good start Wisp. You almost survived the warm up. Rise Itami.
Itami springs to his feet and walks over to Akuma
Itami: Well?
Akuma: He's doing well. He is, at least, eager to learn.
Itami: Yes, he's got the spirit. The ability will come. I am sure.
Akuma: I am sceptical, as it stands. He requires another test.
Itami: I'm sorry Master but I disagree, he is more than ready.
Akuma walks over to Itami and stares up into his eyes menacingly
Akuma: Itami, we both know how close I was to ending you the last time we disagreed. Don't make me finish you off.
Itami: He managed to bring me to the floor Master, none have done that at this sta-
With a single and forceful palm to Itami's forehead, Akuma sends Itami flying through the air and into a heap on the ground.
Akuma: His insolence still riles me. One would think he'd have learned by now.
He walks over to Occulo and lifts him from the floor by the scruff of his neck
I have doubts over you Occulo. You disappoint me.
He throws his limp body across the room, smashing it against the wall.
Eager to learn, yes. But you have no sense of consequence should you fail to master this art.
He kicks Occulo's body on to its back, and brutally kicks at his ribs, a cracking sound eminating with each blow.
Failing this art, however trivial it may be to you, is a matter of life and death for us all. You must share this urgency.
He opens his hand above Occulo's body, which dissipates into nothingness.
If we never see him again, then God help us
CUT
We see from the point of view of an eye which slowly opens, revealing a white sky.
Occulo: What...Akuma...
He attempts to get to his feet but yells out in pain as his broken ribs send agony coursing through his body
Jesus...okay...don't speak...
He slowly sits up with an intense grimace and takes some very careful deep breaths. His face is a sickly pale, and a cold sweat pours down his face. He is in the middle of a thick forest, the trees a jet, almost cartoon black against the pale white sky. He looked closer at the trees and realised that cartoon is quite an apt word, as they appeared to be two dimensional cut outs. He very slowly and painfully got to his feet, and approached the trees. He touched one, sending a ripple across its length, as if he was touching the surface of a pond.
He looks around on the spot for some sort of bearing and shook his head at the sheer lack of it. He stands still and remembers his previous experiences. He trusted the cloud and the lake and came up trumps, he must do the same with the forest.
He started walking in one direction for what seemed like an eternity. The trees seemed to repeat themselves, and the exit to this surreal forest seemed no nearer. He stopped and shook his head, the pain of his cracked ribs growing with every hour, as his energy saps likewise. He coughs and yells in agony, sending a splatter of blood on to the ground.
Occulo: Shit...
He rests a hand on one of the trees and almost topples over as his hand seems to penetrate its surface, again as if he were touching a pond. He reaches in further, and tries to grasp at something, anything...he does so, grabbing what feels like a wooden branch. His face is a picture of confusion. He slowly moves his face towards the tree and peers through its surface. The branch is about forty feet above the ground, and, more alarmingly, he sees himself stood on the ground leaning through a nearby tree.
The fuck?
He grabs a hold of the branch and moves his whole body so he is now up a tree, forty feet above the ground. This tree, unlike the others seems to be a real tree. It consists of just one branch which he sits down on.
Now what?
He look around for options. The tree itself is far too cylindrical and smooth to climb down. The end of his branch is about six feet away from another tree which stands directly opposite. He snaps a bulky twig off the branch and throws it at the opposite tree. It disappears and a few seconds later bounces off his branch and plummets to the ground below. He looks up and sees the ripples of the twig's exit start to dissipate. Infront of the ripples is another slightly smaller branch but much higher up. He looks ahead and realises that the higher he gets, the more chance he'll see where the exit of the forest is...one fucker of a leap of faith awaits.
He slowly gets to his feet and takes a deep, painful breath.
Shit...shit...shit...fucking fear of heights...
He looks along the length of the branch and at the opposite tree. He nods his head.
A leap of faith...oh jesus...
He closes his eyes for a couple of seconds and then slowly opens them. He nods and runs across the length of the branch, before jumping off the end, falling through the surface of the tree and landing on his front on the branch above, just about holding on. He screams in agony. A bloodcurdling, nauseating scream. He is now about a hundred feet above the ground, and his palms are soaked in cold sweat. He lays still on the branch, the various knots digging in to his chest. His vision becomes blurred causing him to panic that he is losing consciousness...you're a dead man if you do that Occulo.
He pushes himself up, but this causes him to almost black out, forcing him to return to his prone position.
Fuck....fuck this...fu....
He snaps off another twig and angrily throws it to the ground below. It falls through a ripple on the ground and disappears. He stares with focus at the ripples and follows them up to the end of his branch.
Come on...come on Occulo...
He slowly and with a few bloody coughs crawls to the end of the branch. He looks down to the ground. His face is sheet white, and cold sweat pours off his shuddering face. Absolute terror courses through his veins and his heart beats with such ferocity that it sends pangs of pain across his chest.
I...I have no choice...
He goes to fall from the branch but his instinct clings on for dear life. He knew he had to do it. The worst that could happen...it was either die instantly as you hit the ground or die slowly on this branch. The best? Pray there is an ER Department on the other side of those ripples on the ground. Let go Occulo...just...
...let go
He closes his eyes and briefly sees Bonnie holding a baby wrapped in a light blue blanket. She smiles and disappears as he opens his eyes. He lets go of the branch and plummets to the ground below.
Bonnie...
He hits the ripples with no impact at all, but blacks out instantly. In the darkness he sees a familar figure...his Father...John Mullins.
Mullins: I wondered when you were joining me in Hell, you son of a bitch
He immediately wakes up in his dressing room back in America. He sits up absolutely soaking in sweat. He pats his chest with his hands...completely healed. No pain. He did it.
Occulo: What...oh my God...
He grabs a towel and dries his face with it.
Why am I back here? Was that a dream? What's happening? What the fuck is happening?
He hears a knock on the door and hesitates before seeing to it. He cautiously walks over and opens the door.
Itami: Congratulations
CUT
We re-open to Occulo in the ring doing some last minute training. He takes a deep breath and sits down in the corner. He then looks at the camera.
Logan, you know I've always looked at you with a smirk. I've never taken you seriously. Am I supposed to? I've never looked at you as a threat. Am I supposed to? Damn, you've done a piss poor job in convincing me to do so. Five Time World Champion Legend yet I never hear anyone talking about the great Logan. They talk about Jonny Fly and they talk about Beckman but who the fuck is Logan? Why am I not convinced? Why am I not shaking at the thought of stepping in to the same ring who has achieved so much and probably looks down on me like I'm some kind of minnow? Perhaps Logan, it is because you've for some bizarre reason associated yourself with two absolute empty vessels. Dag Riddik and Chance von Crank sound like some kind of kids' slapstick cartoon who had their own Playstation 2 and Game Boy Colour game after it had some remote success.
Have you stopped trying Logan? Have you lost faith in your own abilities, so you joined a couple of absolutely mediocre wrestlers just to make yourself look good in comparison? "The Family", yeah, a family where married couple split up and argue over custody of their retarded disaster stories they call their children...except the argument isn't to gain custody, it's to palm it off to the other. Shower the burden on them. But you lost this cruel coin toss and you're left wiping their asses. How often do you have the vision of emptying a can of gasoline over their beds whilst they sleep and flicking a lit match, incinerating them in a blaze of relief.
Fucking Logan acting like some kind of charity case. A man whose career has been emblazoned with gold and confetti now associated with tin cans and garbage. Are "The Family" being sponsored?
The scene cuts to a trailer park with some slow, sad piano playing in the background
Voice: In 2016, Five time World Champion Logan decided to offer his heart and assist those in dire poverty and hope. Logan had acquired much success in his time in the WCF and it is this time in the limelight that persuaded him to help those in the darkness. He took on two empoverished wrestlers. Empoverished of even the most basic living conditions, as well as wrestling ability and...
The voice wells up, frog in throat
...just about any substance whatsoever. Logan took them under his wing and called this...salvation "The Family". But Logan can't do this alone. Please, donate just $2 a month and Logan will try and find purpose in his new accomplices lives. Help "The Family". Help Logan.
We rejoin Occulo
Help "The Family" indeed. But you know what Logan? We're not about to take any prisoners. I care not for your history of success in this company. It doesn't matter. You've slacked off and turned into a ridiculous joke. If I had the success you had I would work harder every day to continue it. I'd push for the next belt and I would command respect. You've done fuck all of these things. People who enter this company know nothing about you, they see you in the back and just think "who's that old guy? nobody mentioned him in training, I don't recognise him". These same people would spot a Fly or Beckman, an Oblivion from a mile away. Because they have a trademark, they have something which makes them stand out. They are actual legends that are told again and again. You? You're a waste. A waste of gold, a waste of talent. Fitting it is then that you're spending your time with even worse wasters. Again, making yourself look good. I'll make you look the has been loser that you are. I'll expose you for all to see. I'll show you how people fight that actually want to be here. You may have the history Logan, but fucking hell, you sure as hell don't have a future.
Riddik. Fuck sake. Cunt. Cunt of the highest order. Have a medal. The Victoria Cunt medal. Riddik grew up researching America and politics and was disgusted at what the country had become. DID YA RIDDIK? DID YA REALLY? Oh fucking hell Che Guevara. Revolutionary. So you expressed disgust at your country, so what did you do? Take up Law at College? Begin a career in politics to turn the country around? Campaign to increasingly large numbers of people about your policies, your dreams, your vision of a better America? Gain a following and spark rumours that Mr President needs to look over the shoulder because Mr Anti-Liberal Riddik is bringing the powerhouse to Washington? Did you rally the millions and win state after state after state like the historical winds of change? Did you take on the President and sit on the chair in The White House and make America the glorious nation your parents told you about? Nah you fuckin took up wrestling, and became absolutely fucking shit at it.
What right do you have to complain about what state America is in, if you have made absolutely zero effort to make it better? You're Russell Brand. Yeah, that absolute definition of a cunt of a human being. Dresses like a cunt and tries to salvage his career by holding itty bitty political campaigns. He uses big words and because the population are so fucking stupid and we haven't heard these words before, the public misinterprets it as an above average level of intelligence and perhaps out of fear of not understanding and appearing stupid to their peers they just clap along and agree with everything he spouts. This is Russell Brand Riddik, and yes, you appear on TV just as much as a total prick as much as he does...if not more. Skip to 6:48, it'll be like looking in a mirror for you Dag.
(6:48)
"I would but I'm scared I'll become one of them". Is this your excuse too Riddik? When you expressed your disgust did you see yourself in the black suit and shudder at the thought of someone showing the same contempt for you? You pretentious, self-important little coward. I bet you built a little cardboard white house in your bedroom and played President. You moan and moan and moan about the all of the problems but when asked to step up and fix it, you'd hide away and give the same drivel Brand gave. You don't like the country you live in? Do something about it or FUCK OFF. You won't be missed. Go wrestle some trolls.
So what problem do you have with the WCF Dag? You really are absolutely the richest of the rich. You hate other competitors here because you see them as rehashed, manufactured and insincere characters designed to draw attention. What and you're not? Can you honestly call yourself original, organic and sincere? You're fucking not. You can't just come from Scandinavia and just put that on the table as your contribution of originality. You can't just appear and blabber on about your political grumbles and say "Yep, because nobody else here has any political opinions". You're absolutely the very definition of manufactured and rehashed.
Gimmick: Foreigner who hates America joins fed and channels his hatred to his opponents.
Jesus.
"Come with me, and you'll be, in a world of pure imagination"
I actually physically hate you Dag. You're just absolutely not what you think you are. Here's the difference:
What you think you are: Neo Revolutionary standing up for his country's beliefs in a foreign country
What you are: Bitter Scandinavian who needs to read a dictionary
I should apologise really for the heinous amount of scrolling I put you through all there, but honestly the difference is that vast, as is the difference in our wrestling ability. You're going to get absolutely battered here. Honestly. Your head is so far up your own ass talking to your own shit about your opinions, because your own shit is the only thing that speaks the same language as you, that you can't see a punch coming from a mile away.
Dag Riddik? Damn Ridiculous. You're an absolute laughing stock. You WANT us to hate you for your unpopular beliefs so you can say "I'll STAND up against your hate". But ya know what Dag? As I said before, we've seen it time and time again. You're just another lowercase name on a long list.
Boring
Boring
Dag Riddik is boring.
Neo Nordicist. No. Insignificant cunt. Yes. Proud Scandinavian. No. Bitter cunt. Yes. I hope you get deported Dag. You deserve it. Logan I absolutely resent you for making a conscious decision to associate with this piece of shit. Do you know what Dag will say in response to this everyone? He'll call me something along the lines of "A mindless sheep herded by the US Government" AM I DAG? AM I? Nah Dag. You're the sheep, and I'm the wolf that is going to sink its teeth in to your throat, sinking them nice and deep in and around your jugular, then ripping it in to oblivion spraying blood cells and flesh all over the ground on which you have no right to stand on. Clean it up, bitch.
You really are the most stupid person I have come across. Yet you moan about stupid people. You are absolutely the biggest hypocrit in every way. It's absolutely embarrassing. You are absolutely everything you say you hate. You fit the definition of what you hate more than the people you are using it against. You're bland, unoriginal, standard, classic, rehashed, manufactured, insincere and worst of all, again, you're painfully stupid.
You think you're:
when you're actually:
You think you're:
when you're actually:
You think you're:
when you're actually:
Get the fucking picture Dag? Nah probably not because you shut yourself off from opposing opinions. So, I'll tell you what, you come down that ramp on Sunday night bringing all the attitude you want, all the hatred you want, all the condoscension you want and we'll slap it out of you. We'll stamp it out of you. We'll crush your neck and make you stare us in the eyes as slowly you'll feel as tiny as you should do when you stand up to a power that is far bigger than you could ever imagine. Bring it the fuck on you stupid moron, I don't know if you have kids or not, but they'll see with teary eyes just how much of an abject failure their father is.
That brings us lastly to Chance von Crank. What the hell kind of name is that? Chance? Fucking no Chance. Logan treatin ya right Chance? Has he lent you a couple of mil to drag your sorry ass out of the trailer park? Nah course not. It'd be like bringing stray in to the home. You'd just walk in and shit on his carpet. With luck he'd just diagnose you with some kind of illness and have you put down.
Here we have folks, another guy who has offensive opinions that he uses to boost his own masculinity. How the fuck you can look down on ANYONE is an absolute mystery. Here is a concise explanation of how low you are:
Tree
Man
Dog
Dog's shit
Fly on dog's shit
Fly on dog's shit's shit
That shit covered in a homeless drunk's vomit
A crow eating the homeless drunk's vomit, and the shit
The same crow hit by a car, bursting its internal organs all over the road
The fly on the dog's shit from before now on the crow's sprayed organs
The fly spattered and liquidated on the windscreen of a car owned by a serial rapist
The fecal matter of the rapist seeping out of his gut as he crashes into a septic tank with the shard of windscreen with the liquidated fly on it ruptures his gut
The contempt of the lazy cop who can't be bothered to remove the rapists's body from the car so he just kicks it into the septic tank and watches it sink to the very bottom
The stench of the half decomposed rapist's body combined with the contents of the septic tank
The taste of the contents of the septic tank (years of shit, piss and spunk combined with the liquidated body of the rapist)
An AIDS infected man masturbating over the stench and taste of the contents of the septic tank
An obese woman licking the spunk from the top of the septic tank
Her vomiting this in to another woman's mouth
Masturbating over that
Chance Von Crank
Was that a bit grotesque? Was that a bit too disgusting? Well imagine how we feel having to look at you every fucking week. Imagine how we feel having to look inside your world every week. Imagine how we feel every time we hear your name every week. It's far more nauseating and disgusting than any of the images I have conjured up. How does it feel Chance, to know that your death would have absolutely no negative impact on a single person on the planet. Not only would nobody care, nobody would know.
Nobody would have a clue.
"What's that smell? It smells like a dead body"
"Oh? Chance must have washed"
"Ha, Fat Chance"
The stuff you come out with Chance, you see what it does is just reflect your own humanity and intelligence. Being a wrestler in the WCF is the absolute only thing you have to cling on to in life. I will take absolutely phenomenal and satisfying pleasure in kicking the shit out of you, breaking you to the extent where this life you cling to is snatched away and you fall deep into the oblivion that your trailer park life brings. That festering ants nest of incest and nil human values. You're a sub-human organism. An unneccesary essence of life. A mere statistic. I cannot even begin to imagine what your Father must have been smoking or which of your brothers or sisters he was fucking to condemn his sperm quality to the extent where YOU were the fastest. Imagine if you tripped on the way to your sister's egg and one of the other sperm got there first. Imagine what that person would have become...
Hitler?
Stalin?
Vlad Dracula?
Pol Pot?
Idi Amin?
Adam Young?
Ivan the Terrible?
Grime?
Mao Zedong?
Katherine Phoenix?
No...far, far, far worse, at least they had ambition....no, it would become an inferior being to you. Oh, the humanity. I've grown tired and a little sick to the stomach talking about you Chance, just let it be known, we're going to absolutely and greviously shatter you on Sunday night. You might as well be fucking dead.
CUT
