Post by Wade Moor on Jul 17, 2017 16:06:17 GMT -5
King of the Deathmatch
Night One (aka Night Won)
Wade Moor vs Oblivion (aka One Tubby Tubby)
The night air was blistering, and given the location, blistering was damn near a Godnilla send. Wade Moor and Bonnie Blue sat along a white sand beachhead in some resort something or other in Panama Beach, the kind of place you'd bring home a shot glass and herpes, if you were lucky (the other options being HIV or AIDS), but Wade barely paid attention to the small details. No, his bread and butter was in the BIGGER PICTURE, running the crucible on his unlucky opponents as the George A. Romero King of the Deathmatch tournament swiftly approached. His first opponent in this round robin was sort of the resident joke of WCF, a Grindhouse Pictures presents The Muppets kind of guy, the King of the Nae Nae Dopeblivion.
Moor sat with his feet in the water, watching the waves crash over the horizon, feeling the tide march in on his ass. He caught Bonnie's eyes glistening in the dim light of tiki torches encompassing their party zone. Surprisingly, he hadn't managed to fuck this one up. Something felt different when he was around her...something felt almost human.
Wade Moor: What's up?
Bonnie Blue: Nothing, just thinkin' about some stuff.
These words would send beta males into a sort of hushed frenzy as they poured over every thought that raced through their plebeian minds. "What did I do wrong?" "Am I going to lose this one?"
(No, not you Oblivion, I'll get to you in a minute.)
(But spoiler alert; you fucking lose and you lose bad)
Though Wade remained calm and collected, even possessing the stones to venture further into her cranial conjurings.
Wade Moor: What kind of things?
But Bonnie bit her lip, stifling her thoughts as they came to her. Wade read her body language as being unprepared to share how she was feeling and decided not to press the issue. When she was ready, she would come to him. For now, she decided to change the subject.
Bonnie Blue: Just this King of the Deathmatch Tournament; are you sure you're ready for somethin' like this? You're a little outta practice, and it could be dangerous.
Wade chuckled.
Wade Moor: Bonnie, my dear, I'm never out of practice. I'm in the best shape I've ever been in my life.
Bonnie laughed.
Bonnie Blue: Thanks to those five am runs.
Wade Moor: Indeed, and this King of the Deathmatch? Nothing happens in my front yard without my say so. This entire tournament is a construct, a design of a mad God that can't be trifled with. The pieces are in place, the only question is how many pieces of my opponents will be leftover after I roll through them like a Saturday cheat day. Yeah, Godnilla is on that health kick, both mentally and physically, unfortunately the same sentiment doesn't ring true for those unfortunate to share the ring with me this week.
Oblivion, I would call you something of a nemesis, but that would imply were even on the same level, and that's something I just can't abide. I've never told a lie; lies are only meant to protect fragile egos and dishonest relationships, and I have neither of those in my life. I'm going to be straight up with you, Jakob; you just can't hang with The Leviathan, and in an Aqua Match? Build the funeral pyre now because I'm sending you out to sea.
The Monster Oblivion used to send shivers down people's spines, but this isn't two thousand ten and my name isn't Lilith, so you're just going to have to brace for the ass kicking I've been itching to give you since I saw you molest a World Championship reign like your name was Jared Holmes. Ever since I watched you bumble your way through another insignificant promo, melding somewhere between Friday The 13th and Sesame Street, I've wanted to deliver a Broseidon Punch to your dumb fucking mouth. They declared you criminally insane (aka mentally retarded) but I'm about to declare you Dead on Arrival.
This is an Aqua Match, my turf, and by the looks of you the last time you went near water was when your mom gave a baby bubble bath. You've let jealousy and anger motivate you for far too long and look where it's gotten you; right here in a losing effort against me. The highlight - and subsequent death - of your career was joining #beachkrew and even we couldn't manage to revive your staggered career. So in between jobbing to Lilith and getting utterly spanked by the lovely Bonnie Blue, you've managed to accomplish exactly jack shit.
So what makes the King of the Deathmatch Tourney any different for you? Do you swear I'm "gonna get it"? Are you going to put the #beachkrew menace to rest once and for all? You can't kill what you didn't create; that power alone rests in Godnillas Right hand. So tonight, when you're standing down into Wade Moors grotto, remember what you said. Remember every foul word that ever crossed your lips about me, and know that you were totally and completely wrong.
Because in the bigger picture, this crucible of challengers, you're nothing but #Prey4Wade.
Now Bend The Knee and drown yourself you fucking retard.
Bonnie Blue: And what about...
A devilish smile crosses Wades face.
Wade Moor: The Bird? I'll be waiting for him. The first time was a smash hit, but the sequel?
Wades eyes darken under torch light.
Wade Moor: it's going to be fucking killer.
Night One (aka Night Won)
Wade Moor vs Oblivion (aka One Tubby Tubby)
The night air was blistering, and given the location, blistering was damn near a Godnilla send. Wade Moor and Bonnie Blue sat along a white sand beachhead in some resort something or other in Panama Beach, the kind of place you'd bring home a shot glass and herpes, if you were lucky (the other options being HIV or AIDS), but Wade barely paid attention to the small details. No, his bread and butter was in the BIGGER PICTURE, running the crucible on his unlucky opponents as the George A. Romero King of the Deathmatch tournament swiftly approached. His first opponent in this round robin was sort of the resident joke of WCF, a Grindhouse Pictures presents The Muppets kind of guy, the King of the Nae Nae Dopeblivion.
Moor sat with his feet in the water, watching the waves crash over the horizon, feeling the tide march in on his ass. He caught Bonnie's eyes glistening in the dim light of tiki torches encompassing their party zone. Surprisingly, he hadn't managed to fuck this one up. Something felt different when he was around her...something felt almost human.
Wade Moor: What's up?
Bonnie Blue: Nothing, just thinkin' about some stuff.
These words would send beta males into a sort of hushed frenzy as they poured over every thought that raced through their plebeian minds. "What did I do wrong?" "Am I going to lose this one?"
(No, not you Oblivion, I'll get to you in a minute.)
(But spoiler alert; you fucking lose and you lose bad)
Though Wade remained calm and collected, even possessing the stones to venture further into her cranial conjurings.
Wade Moor: What kind of things?
But Bonnie bit her lip, stifling her thoughts as they came to her. Wade read her body language as being unprepared to share how she was feeling and decided not to press the issue. When she was ready, she would come to him. For now, she decided to change the subject.
Bonnie Blue: Just this King of the Deathmatch Tournament; are you sure you're ready for somethin' like this? You're a little outta practice, and it could be dangerous.
Wade chuckled.
Wade Moor: Bonnie, my dear, I'm never out of practice. I'm in the best shape I've ever been in my life.
Bonnie laughed.
Bonnie Blue: Thanks to those five am runs.
Wade Moor: Indeed, and this King of the Deathmatch? Nothing happens in my front yard without my say so. This entire tournament is a construct, a design of a mad God that can't be trifled with. The pieces are in place, the only question is how many pieces of my opponents will be leftover after I roll through them like a Saturday cheat day. Yeah, Godnilla is on that health kick, both mentally and physically, unfortunately the same sentiment doesn't ring true for those unfortunate to share the ring with me this week.
Oblivion, I would call you something of a nemesis, but that would imply were even on the same level, and that's something I just can't abide. I've never told a lie; lies are only meant to protect fragile egos and dishonest relationships, and I have neither of those in my life. I'm going to be straight up with you, Jakob; you just can't hang with The Leviathan, and in an Aqua Match? Build the funeral pyre now because I'm sending you out to sea.
The Monster Oblivion used to send shivers down people's spines, but this isn't two thousand ten and my name isn't Lilith, so you're just going to have to brace for the ass kicking I've been itching to give you since I saw you molest a World Championship reign like your name was Jared Holmes. Ever since I watched you bumble your way through another insignificant promo, melding somewhere between Friday The 13th and Sesame Street, I've wanted to deliver a Broseidon Punch to your dumb fucking mouth. They declared you criminally insane (aka mentally retarded) but I'm about to declare you Dead on Arrival.
This is an Aqua Match, my turf, and by the looks of you the last time you went near water was when your mom gave a baby bubble bath. You've let jealousy and anger motivate you for far too long and look where it's gotten you; right here in a losing effort against me. The highlight - and subsequent death - of your career was joining #beachkrew and even we couldn't manage to revive your staggered career. So in between jobbing to Lilith and getting utterly spanked by the lovely Bonnie Blue, you've managed to accomplish exactly jack shit.
So what makes the King of the Deathmatch Tourney any different for you? Do you swear I'm "gonna get it"? Are you going to put the #beachkrew menace to rest once and for all? You can't kill what you didn't create; that power alone rests in Godnillas Right hand. So tonight, when you're standing down into Wade Moors grotto, remember what you said. Remember every foul word that ever crossed your lips about me, and know that you were totally and completely wrong.
Because in the bigger picture, this crucible of challengers, you're nothing but #Prey4Wade.
Now Bend The Knee and drown yourself you fucking retard.
Bonnie Blue: And what about...
A devilish smile crosses Wades face.
Wade Moor: The Bird? I'll be waiting for him. The first time was a smash hit, but the sequel?
Wades eyes darken under torch light.
Wade Moor: it's going to be fucking killer.
