Post by Chief Tom-O-Hawk on Mar 26, 2016 5:42:26 GMT -5
# Created on Mar 26, 2016 4:19:10 AM
Chicago Calls (all read)
TAGS : None
"KILL HIM!!!"
"COME ON, FIGHT YOU S.O.B.!!"
Chicago was definitely his kind of town.
A fighter like Freezer Burn is the bane of places like New York, even though the society as a whole needs them more then they would ever admit. Here in Chicago, a man with the right type of ambition for the hustle could be a king, with no end to the riches. Drugs, gambling, whoring, fighting, there was money and power to be gained with all the middlemen cut out, namely the city officials and cops. Chicago was a wanting succubus of a woman, legs wide open and begging to be taken which ever way you chose to have her...
And Freezer Burn always liked his women willing...and his hustle was in the fighting.. as a competitor.
Thank God for Chicago, opportunities for a fight just smacked you right in the face.
SOCK~!
Or in this case, gave him a solid right hand to his face.
Enough talking to the right people and Freezer Burn went from roaming the Strip, to being surrounded by hundreds of rabid spectators thirsting for blood. The "arena" was situated in an abandoned warehouse on the eastside, home to illegal fights every month with big money to be had for not only the fighters, but those with a gift for betting as well. Tonight, Freezer Burn's mission was pain and to gain it would mean defeating Cristos, the hulking Mexican beast across from him with Freezer Burn;s blood on his tattooed knuckles. He smiled, revealing a silver encrusted "grill" over his teeth with "Diablo" on the top row, adding insult to Freezer Burn's injury.
"Come on bitch, make my night quick!"
The fluorescent lights hung above them, putting the two competitors in the spotlight as Cristos shredded the air with another right hook, finding true as it smashed into Freezer Burn's face. The Hardcore Icon stumbled back slightly, a slight trail of blood coming from the edge of his mouth as he tried to get his head back together. It had been a long time since he had a real fight and despite being on the losing end, he was enjoying it thoroughly.
The smell of sweat like old fried chicken. The blood-thirsty crowd waiting for the blow that would make or break the fight. The sick rush he'd experience from every blow he gave or received.
This was living.
This was not Freezer Burn giving it his all, however. Cristos had no idea just how much false confidence Wayne was letting him build up as he laid more searing punches into the visage of the old man. Wayne had his own personal reasons as to why he accepted something as gritty as underground boxing after all. To put it simply, he needed to remember what it was like to feel any other kind of pain besides the monotonous training mat again and again which eventually lost it's ability to hurt anymore.
Every other thought for him was about Explosion standing in the way of what is rightfully mine.. but no.. I haven't yet lost that opportnity. The Phoenix Three was not lost The Three-Way Tag wasn't lost.. I won't lose it becouse I needed this.. right here. right now.. in order to achieve success. No more non-decisions... this time.. it would all be about having to pry the win.. any win.. from my dead, cold fingers. Good old fashioned fighting would bring his cure, like it or not.
Because the best way to get rid of pain, is to replace it with another.
The howls of the spectators grew to a mighty roar as Cristos snatched the legs Freezer Burn possessed, putting him down to tarnished tile floor below him with a sickening thud. Burn could feel the messy cocktail of sweat and his own blood smeared on his tank-top, Wayne having just the kind of luck to land in a lingering puddle of his own bodily losses. But the sickening thud everyone else heard only brought a smile to Wayne's face, this sickening thud so identical to so many similar landings inside the wrestling ring itself. Cristos played to the crowd, flexing his ripped arms for the crowd as the dragons tattooed on them pulsated with life.
"IM GONNA DESTROY THIS BITCH!!"
The masses had spoken and they gave their thumbs down to Freezer Burn. Like a good gladiator, Cristos was about to give them the river of crimson they had so desperately yearned for. Freezer Burn asked himself if this was the time to fight back yet.
His mind told dismissively rebutted with a harsh "no".
He laid as limp as the corpse he threatened to become with the beating he had absorbed, the overhead lighting now eclipsed by the bald head of Cristos. His locked eyes with the old man, the smile of a sadist on display for the crowd as a meaty fist raised itself in the air and rained down a thunderous blow on Freezer Burn's bruised face.
Cristos awaited the cry for help, mentally begging for it to escape Freezer Burn's swollen lips, but it never came. Soon, another punch followed and landed just as furiously as the last. An ear clasped with his hand this time, no sound would come from Freezer Burn, only blood trickling from his mouth and down his neck.
"SCREAM FOR ME YOU BASTARD, SCREAM!!"
The punches rained down in rapid succession with machine-like precision and speed. Cristos must have had some experience putting the hurt on people in the past, probably as hired muscle no doubt. Every punch was a step closer to litany.
Clarity.
Oneness with the Gods.
Fucking Valhalla.
At that moment, there was no crowd and no shitty warehouse. 'Freezer Burn' was not some upcoming 'never was' who wasted his prime achieving an iconic status in the hardcore world. The fact that he had forsaken his only source of unyielding love was not even an issue anymore. He was bathed in the sick purity of a healing light, with Cristos as his guide. The beating must have been pretty severe, given that a hushed silence befell the crowd now, Freezer Burn very aware that he had given up much more blood for this selfish cause then he thought.
No wonder he was so light-headed.
As the punches rained down, there was no sound, but one. No it was not the sick cracks and thuds of fists meeting flesh and bone. Only...
"How could I eva farget you, sweetness. You are my everything, you ARE me. I'll die before I forget you, yah hear me! I LOVE YOU."
"I love you morer, daddy."
- - - - - -
"I love you, Wayne. Now say goodbye to Carmen, then get out. And never come back again."
The visage of his first wife saying these words quickly replaced with another. This one of his second wife, driving her car, being hit by a dumptruck broadside. Flash forward to her on a hospital gurney, covered in blood, surrounded by triag nurses and doctors. A moment later the grim face of a young doctor about to tell the despairing husband that despite best efforts, his wife was dead.
The visage changes again to a seat on a jet plane. People gathering their lapbelts post-haste. He sees the heads of his two grown sons sitting in front of him. Feels the tightenening of a hand on his arm, the hand of his best friend, one of two, one of Corey Phoenix and the other friend across the hall from him, one 'Sickness' Sean Hale. Lifelong rivals and friends on the way to Japan along with nearly a hundred other of pro-wrestling's finest North American stars.
A momentary flash in memory, and Freezer Burn is walking among the wreckage of the downed plane, his right side still on fire, a boomerang shaped piece of titatnium window trim entering his abdoman and exiting his right side between two ribs and Freezer Burn, the man Wayne Hammon, calling out the names of his family, of his friends, of which only one other would survive besides himself.
- - - - - -
This was a demon the Freezer Burn couldn't topple with refined physique. And despite the beating he allowed himself to take in this random piss-hole, it only worked temporarily. He could not escape the gut-wrenching feeling that he may never see his everything, his daughter ever again. He coould not escape that one of his sons had dies on the plane crash. Coould not escape the fate of his second wife's death after that ill fated car wreck. Could not escape losing his world titles and nine years of his career by something that did NOT happen inside the wrestling ring. This quietly intense tone of his ex-wife forever lingered in his ear, kissing away a life of being a family-man and only being sore from playing with his child.
It was enough to make a man want to kill.
With that in mind, Cristos was now the equivalent of a condom.
You see, a condom is only good temporarily. Good until it has served its purpose. No one keeps a used condom unless they're a sicko or trying to get pregnant, and in most cases, the other male party has no idea and it makes for a great episode of Maury. Nevertheless, after it is used, you throw it away.
Cristos had served his purpose.
WHAM~!
A meaty right hand rocketed from the ashes and barreled into Cristos' face. The cocky mauler was taken completely off guard by the blow, Cristos temporarily losing the ability to feel his own face as that same right hand bolted up from below. His head snapped back violently as it collided with his chin, two white entities known as "teeth" and the top piece of his jewel-encrusted grill made their escape from his mouth like a prison break.
No mercy, no remorse, there had been none of Freezer Burn. He turned the tables on this fight as easily as he dogged it, his arms wrapping around a fleeting Cristos as he followed with a sudden roll. Cristos was now the one against the cold ground, doing his best to fight the predicament he was in with hardly any energy left. Cristos face had disappeared.. in one landed punch it was Omega.. and in the next was Venom.. the next was Leitro... the next was Sean Hale... then his son Randy... again and again the fists slammed in rapid succession against the visions. Antagonists of his past alongside friends and loved ones in his mental snapshots gone awry with the reckless abandon of a criminal psychotic off his meds.
What would happen next definitely was not what the fans had come to expect. Of course they wanted to see beatings, blood, even a few broken bones. This however, turned into a sick massacre. This was a murderer playing with his victim instead of just finishing them off. This was Wayne Hammon at his most simple. A war machine.
SMASH~!
"THIS AIN'T NO GAME, YA UNDASTAND ME??!"
SMASH~!
"IM THE HARDCORE ICON, YO PUNK ASS AINT GOT SHIT BITCH!!"
SMASH~!
"YOU AIN'T TALKIN ALL DAT SHIT NOW, EH?! WHERES ALL DA MOUTH NOW, HUH ES-SAY(ESSE)?!"
SMASH~!
Headbutts. Safe to say Freezer Burn was made. He never saw the need to use them unless he felt like being a "sanctimonious son of a bitch". Keep in mind, Freeze couldn't spell "sanctimonious" if $1,000,000 depended on it, but he just liked it... the sound of it. It went with "son of a bitch" so well. Like ketchup on French fries or a good tomato sauce with angel hair pasta.
One headbutt was enough to make Cristos a non-factor in the fight, 4 was just Freezer Burn's way of expressing his anger the best way he could. A steady flow of Cristos' blood now joined the stains of blood Freezer Burn had just left behind. Punches soon followed, Cristos serving as the punching bag for all the anguish Freezer Burn had to deal with in the game called life.
It would be an understatement to say he had a lot of it.
There was no telling how long he had been beating on Cristos. Seconds, minutes, it all was the same really. The crowd even gave him the respect of scared shitless silence until finally, he got tired of altering Cristos' natural features. Wayne fell to his ass, legs sprawled out as he caught his breath and stared down at the mess he left to be cleaned up. Blood all over his cargo pants and tank-top, Freezer Burn could only think about how unlucky of a bastard Cristos was.
Cristos would understand what Freezer Burn did one day, if he ever had a family he loved, if he ever believed in anything more than just himself. The savage intent of that "fight" would become completely clear to him.
Freeze stood up, feeling like a titan as he towered over all the fans surrounding him as he prepared to make his way out.
"Whoever does the pay-outs .. time to pay out."
A suited man, Gucci shades adorned over his eyes stepped forward to the manbeast, obviously the payout man for the fight. His hands trembled as he reached into the pocket of his fine pinstripe suit, presenting a wad of $100 dollar bills held neatly by a rubber band to the victor of this battle. Freezer Burn offered a bloody smirk to him, politely taking the money from his hand and placing it in his own pocket. This wasn't needed money. Freeze has more than he can deal with. This is respect money. As Freezer Burn prepared to walk away, all eyes on him as a bringer of destruction, the payout man could not help but ask.
"What the hell happened to you man? That was just... sick. What happened?"
He looked directly at the payout man, two decades worth of anger rooted deeply in Freezer Burn's eyes. The ring veteran took slow, deliberate breaths as his fists began to clench in an offensive manner, making the payout man step back a few paces. He knew well enough however that if Freezer Burn chose, he would be the next victim without so much as a struggle.
"Life happened to me... Put it on me good."
And with that, Freezer Burn made his walk towards the warehouse door. As easily as he had dealt with the masses and Cristos, they would soon be forgotten without another word. Did he feel bad about Cristos? That would mean having to feel bad about every other person he had ever brought pain to in his years on earth.
An ex-wife and daughter, dead friends, one dead son, one dead wife, they had priority when it came to sorrow, no one else, not even his remaining son. Cristos was pure shit out of luck and if those headbutts didn't promise him death, he would wish for it every waking day.
Cristos would wake up every day and remember the Warehouse Brawl with Freezer Burn. He would ask to some higher power why that fate befell him and what he did to deserve it.
He deserved it because he was born, plain and simple. Life doesn't always make you suffer for a reason. Sometimes it does it just to be a say it with me now...
SANCTIMONIOUS SON OF A BITCH.
Very good boys and girls. Shortly, Freezer Burn found himself on the Chicago streets, with its bright lights and fast cars pleasantly overwhelming him like always. Blood-spattered clothes on these streets were as normal as a business suit or a skimpy dress, even more proof that this place would grow on him.
As much as he worried and wondered about his daughter, he knew that the pain would be at a loss if he did not fulfill his mission. There was no option for failure in the WCF. Whoever stood in his way would need to be destroyed, decisively and with flair. Wayne Hammon ... excuse me, Freezer Burn... was a man driven.
But even the most vicious of mere mortals needed simple things.
"I need some Jack in the worst way."
So, it was off to the bar he would go. Would he do to his opposition what he did to Cristos? If it meant cementing a legend... no beating was too severe. Cristos has seen the tip of the iceberg.. Kraken had so much more to recieve.. he caused some of this turmoil.. for being an impotent little bastard that ran his mouth and called me 'bitch' last week.
A loving man, yet a brutal destroyer. How could a man be both and find peace? The answer is..
He doesn't. The more he struggles for peace.. the more violent in nature he becomes.
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Summary-
-just read it
