Apokalypse Right Fuckin' Now
Aug 10, 2020 20:44:42 GMT -5
Thomas Snow and Madwoman Szalinski like this
Post by Sara Pettis on Aug 10, 2020 20:44:42 GMT -5
Did you think this Tournament of Doom would take place without the true heir to this twisted family's deathmatch throne?
Oh.
You've never heard of the mighty Apokalypse?
That's because you're not into the puro deathmatch scene. That's where I've spent the majority of my career, powerbombing dudes through flaming tables and tossing their corpses into piranha tanks. The shit I did over there was to prepare me for the carnage I'm about to unleash Renovation1.
More about me?
Fuck you.
My name is Kevin. I am the eldest child of Aj Nin Red Rum. There's a tragic story somewhere buried deep about how I was abducted as a child… raised by a psychopath… and taught to hate my family who thought I was dead.
That story isn't going to win this fuckin' tournament.
You don't need to hear all that shit.
What's going to win is my sadistic desire to ravage and pillage the whole fuckin' field of combatants. You've never met a man who is as comfortable with pain as he is breathing. There's a very specific place in Hell for people like me… and I'm a-ok with it.
Save me a seat, Nate.
At the rate I'm going… it won't be long now.
But first… I've got a Whorecore Title to win.
What kind of a fuckin' belt is that?
Renovation1 is not the ideal place for me… but the door is wide open for me to show up… potentially commit a few murders… and walk away champion. The funny part about this is that my own dad didn't invite me to be part of this whole thing. He's the one pulling the strings… and never even considered me.
That's fucked up.
Sure, I only recently came back from Japan… but I'm already tearing shit up and stacking bodies in the street over in APW. I've even got a random shot at their Tag Team Championship next Monday. Mondays are kind of busy for me these days. I'm available on Tuesdays… so… this just makes sense. What a surprise it'll be when I show up at Rolling Hill Asylum!
Thanks for nothing, dad.
You weren't there most of my life.
Why start now?
The mystery of this tournament is that the matches are totally random. Fuckin' weird. But that's Nate's vision. There could be any number of competitors in this… and any number per match. How fuckin' wild is that?! Could I just show up for the finals and murder everyone? Nobody would be able to stop me!
FUCKIN' TRY!
COWARDS!
Let's assume for a moment that it's a standard tournament… and like… we knew who our opponent would be. Who would I most like to face in the first round? Well that's easy: anyone! I don't give a fuck if it's softcore Anya Coyle or sadclown Ginger Snaps or trainwreck Kitty Dork or even my sister Sara Pettis.
No.
Actually… I would LOVE for it to be Sara. My dad adopted her long after I went missing. She basically stole my family from me. Ooohhh how I would love to beat the tar out of her in this tournament. I wouldn't kill her… but I would definitely maim here. I've seen how badly the likes of Frank Lowe, Sarah Lacklan and Vonn Richter have messed her up this year. I promise I would do worse if given the opportunity.
I doubt she's in the tournament though.
Coward.
Who IS in this tournament?
Some ancient roast beef crotched witch named Lucretia Black?! What level of Hell did they summon that bitch from?! She's about as scary as the Tooth Fairy! I have an advantage over her in this tournament because of my average sense of smell. How so? Well… if she tries to sneak up on me… I will quickly detect her rancid asshole and I'll spray that bitch with a Super Soaker!
Get it?
Because she's a witch!
She'll fuckin' melt!
Some benchwarmer meatheat called Kyle Halford is in the tournament. Oh no. So intimidating. What's he got to do to get his Rudy moment? If Monster energy drinks are provided… he stands a chance. Fuckin' Kyles are the worst. I double dog dare that ringer to step up to the big, bad Apokalypse at Monster Mash! I'll do worse damage to him than chronic traumatic encephalopathy ever could!
CTE ain't no joke.
Neither am I.
Next up is a couple of Dick Cheney's inbred grandkids probably! Jacob and Clyde. I don't give a fuck what these brother cousins have to say on their campaign trail. These dummies are going to get buried in the family plot next to Uncle Daddy Dick. Is he even still alive? Bring him along to East Bethany and I'll fuck him up, too! Apokalypse is an equal opportunity destroyer of worlds!
APOK 2020!
MAKE AMERICA SUFFER AGAIN!
Next up is some half man / half horse called Centurion. I don't know how it's possible for him to be a pro wrestler… but apparently he's been filling up a bucket with skill for like twenty years. Fate won't be on his side if he sees me at Monster Mash. I'll dump all his skill down the drain and fill that bucket back up with his blood!
Bloodletting at an asylum?!
FUCK YEAH!
Tommy Snow is in this tournament?! Oh man! The first in a short line of Trinity World's Champions! He's the least hardcore in this entire tournament. If a baked potato showed up… it would be able to swing a steel chair better than Snow. I've seen clouds harder than Snow. I've felt more intimidating vibes from a dandelion than I get from Snow. I've seen more---
Nope.
That dead horse has had enough.
Speaking of dead horses… what fuckin' glue factory did Kalinda Krogerdorf escape from?! Must be another one of those wretched MadClown goons. Lemme look this hag up on the old internets right quick. Okay… I already got her name wrong. Oh well. She's got seventy-three nicknames… and all of them are stupid. She's from fuckin' Narnia. She's three and a half feet tall. She's got a tail… and horns… and pink skin.
Oh.
I get it.
She's a Furry.
Gross.
Well… I'd love to burn her alive inside of that silly costume. Ain't no fuckin' way a Furry is winning the Renovation1 Whorecore Championship at Monster Mash. That shit won't fly as long as Apokalypse is around.
No Furries. No Snows. No Madmen.
That's right! Madman Szalinski is crawling out from a rundown van down by the river to enter the Tournament of Doom. I'm somehow related to Madman… but our family tree is so fucked up that I lost interest in figuring it out. Alls I know is he's a frumpy, old fuck who still wears a Halloween mask. I'll give him the choice of trick or treat. Both of them involve me dismembering him with a fuckin' hatchet. Then I'm going to tear that stupid mask off and shit in it. Then I'm going to staple it back over his face.
Speaking of masks… hello there, Carnivore. Or is it Danal Dream? I don't know which version of you will be at Monster Mash… and I don't fuckin' care. You'll be just another victim of the deathmatch monster called Apokalypse if you step up to the fuckin' plate. I don't need to hide behind a smiley face mask. I know exactly who I am and what I'm about. You don't even know how to tie your fuckin' shoes without someone from MadClown tellin' you how good of a boy you are!
Fuck outta here with that MadClown nonsense!
The only one I have even a modicum of respect for is Nirvana Wolfgang Von Frankenstein. He reminds me a lot of the man who kidnapped and raised me. I went to Nate's wake and caught up with Nirvana over a spiked punch bowl. Sure, I was the one who spiked it. That party was fuckin' dead anyway. Nirvana is the only one who embodies the spirit of this tournament… other than me, of course.
He's one sick son-of-a-bitch… and if he wins this tournament… Renovation 1 might as well dig its own grave. For the sake of this company and its Whorecore Championship… y'all better pray that I get close enough take out his good eye. A blind man can't win the fuckin' tournament.
Probably.
Nirvana… may the best man win… and by best man… I obviously mean Apokalypse. You're a man out of time and I'm the end of everything. All the sick shit you've done in your lifetime pales in comparison to what I'm prepared to do to keep you from winning this fuckin' tournament.
Don't believe me?
Just watch.
What about the rest of you scrubs?
Sylk Michaels… Leo Cook… Panis Diakos… Enforcer… Atara Themis... Vonn Richter… Austin St. Peters… Oliver Last… Evan-lee Chase… Pasha… Miles A. Way… Adelaide Ainsworth… Graham Clauson… Mike Mason… The Judge… The Wolf… The Siren… The Father… Mark Wright… James Ceno… Chelsea Pebblepot… Jaxon Pierce Wilder… Jacqui M… Scorpio… Sierra Silver… Sam Laramie… Flynn Ghostwood… Lissie Hope… Tommy Strycnine… eNaiT… Maverick… Abbi Stein… Kelly Penkzee-Nelson… Ryder Blade… Samuel Flowers… Noah Graham… Kalma Valkyrie… Jack Jackson… Brittany… Benjamin John Beaufort… Tad Lawrence… Chad McFly… Jago… The Syndicate… Anna Raven Jade… Lachlan Hennessy… Calypso Ava Jade… Raul Temper… Hightower… Professor Andrew Wilson… New York CruZe… Jake Wakefield… Ice… Damian Simmons… Drake Knight… Henri Black… Eddie Dread… Scott Slayer… Nightshade… Persephone… Claire Hawkins… Alex Scott… Melancholy… Madison Lewis… Cody Larson… Terra Walker… Lex Collins… Mark Brooks… Miss Michelle… The Robot… Joey Leclair… Noah Garcia… Justin Sayn… The Red Angel… Kandi Washington… Jock Wilson… COLT… Noah Hanson… Taysia Lattimore… Cole Kelly… Dave Spades… Emmit Kraus… Duncan Aries… Solomon Graham… Flop… Giggles… Tammy T… Scott Sinclar… Mute…
If any of you putrid mouth breathers enter this fuckin' tournament… I'ma do unspeakably terrible things to you.
Don't believe me?
Just watch.
Now...
If Frank fuckin' Lowe steps foot in Rolling Hills Asylym… I'ma fuckin' murder him in cold blood. Think I'm just playing around? Fuckin' try me. That piece of shit killed my brother-in-law. Then when Nate was being honored at the company whose banner he died under… fuckin' Frank tore shit up and rained on the parade. There is no place on Earth that man is safe.
From any of us.
The Tournament of Doom will be a gory disasterpiece. None of this would be possible without the vision of Nate. When he dominated the Pure Division last year… he fell back in love with hardcore wrestling. He had such ambition to continue innovating the very idea of hardcore wrestling. This tournament revives his vision… and with it… a Renovation1 Whorecore Championship to the winner.
It will be my honor and pleasure to be the first to hold that championship. I don't give a fuck about challenging that tiny broad for her World's Championship after this is over though. I'll give that contract up to the highest bidder once the smoke settles from Monster Mash.
Oh.
Yeah.
The smoke is from the fire.
Once I win the tournament… I'm going to lock everyone inside the asylum and burn that motherfucker to the ground.
Hopefully my old man makes it out alive.
You know… I never considered the possibility of my dad also entering the tournament. He's probably got his hands full with some goofy match where he's going to electrocute a little girl. Madwoman Szalinski? Some relation to Madman? That would make her some relation to… me?
I don't fuckin' know.
If she jumps into the deep end with the rest of us lunatics… I'll turn that bitch into chum.
Watch out for the great white shark.
They call him Apokalypse.
Nobody is safe.
Not even me.
Oh.
You've never heard of the mighty Apokalypse?
That's because you're not into the puro deathmatch scene. That's where I've spent the majority of my career, powerbombing dudes through flaming tables and tossing their corpses into piranha tanks. The shit I did over there was to prepare me for the carnage I'm about to unleash Renovation1.
More about me?
Fuck you.
My name is Kevin. I am the eldest child of Aj Nin Red Rum. There's a tragic story somewhere buried deep about how I was abducted as a child… raised by a psychopath… and taught to hate my family who thought I was dead.
That story isn't going to win this fuckin' tournament.
You don't need to hear all that shit.
What's going to win is my sadistic desire to ravage and pillage the whole fuckin' field of combatants. You've never met a man who is as comfortable with pain as he is breathing. There's a very specific place in Hell for people like me… and I'm a-ok with it.
Save me a seat, Nate.
At the rate I'm going… it won't be long now.
But first… I've got a Whorecore Title to win.
What kind of a fuckin' belt is that?
Renovation1 is not the ideal place for me… but the door is wide open for me to show up… potentially commit a few murders… and walk away champion. The funny part about this is that my own dad didn't invite me to be part of this whole thing. He's the one pulling the strings… and never even considered me.
That's fucked up.
Sure, I only recently came back from Japan… but I'm already tearing shit up and stacking bodies in the street over in APW. I've even got a random shot at their Tag Team Championship next Monday. Mondays are kind of busy for me these days. I'm available on Tuesdays… so… this just makes sense. What a surprise it'll be when I show up at Rolling Hill Asylum!
Thanks for nothing, dad.
You weren't there most of my life.
Why start now?
The mystery of this tournament is that the matches are totally random. Fuckin' weird. But that's Nate's vision. There could be any number of competitors in this… and any number per match. How fuckin' wild is that?! Could I just show up for the finals and murder everyone? Nobody would be able to stop me!
FUCKIN' TRY!
COWARDS!
Let's assume for a moment that it's a standard tournament… and like… we knew who our opponent would be. Who would I most like to face in the first round? Well that's easy: anyone! I don't give a fuck if it's softcore Anya Coyle or sadclown Ginger Snaps or trainwreck Kitty Dork or even my sister Sara Pettis.
No.
Actually… I would LOVE for it to be Sara. My dad adopted her long after I went missing. She basically stole my family from me. Ooohhh how I would love to beat the tar out of her in this tournament. I wouldn't kill her… but I would definitely maim here. I've seen how badly the likes of Frank Lowe, Sarah Lacklan and Vonn Richter have messed her up this year. I promise I would do worse if given the opportunity.
I doubt she's in the tournament though.
Coward.
Who IS in this tournament?
Some ancient roast beef crotched witch named Lucretia Black?! What level of Hell did they summon that bitch from?! She's about as scary as the Tooth Fairy! I have an advantage over her in this tournament because of my average sense of smell. How so? Well… if she tries to sneak up on me… I will quickly detect her rancid asshole and I'll spray that bitch with a Super Soaker!
Get it?
Because she's a witch!
She'll fuckin' melt!
Some benchwarmer meatheat called Kyle Halford is in the tournament. Oh no. So intimidating. What's he got to do to get his Rudy moment? If Monster energy drinks are provided… he stands a chance. Fuckin' Kyles are the worst. I double dog dare that ringer to step up to the big, bad Apokalypse at Monster Mash! I'll do worse damage to him than chronic traumatic encephalopathy ever could!
CTE ain't no joke.
Neither am I.
Next up is a couple of Dick Cheney's inbred grandkids probably! Jacob and Clyde. I don't give a fuck what these brother cousins have to say on their campaign trail. These dummies are going to get buried in the family plot next to Uncle Daddy Dick. Is he even still alive? Bring him along to East Bethany and I'll fuck him up, too! Apokalypse is an equal opportunity destroyer of worlds!
APOK 2020!
MAKE AMERICA SUFFER AGAIN!
Next up is some half man / half horse called Centurion. I don't know how it's possible for him to be a pro wrestler… but apparently he's been filling up a bucket with skill for like twenty years. Fate won't be on his side if he sees me at Monster Mash. I'll dump all his skill down the drain and fill that bucket back up with his blood!
Bloodletting at an asylum?!
FUCK YEAH!
Tommy Snow is in this tournament?! Oh man! The first in a short line of Trinity World's Champions! He's the least hardcore in this entire tournament. If a baked potato showed up… it would be able to swing a steel chair better than Snow. I've seen clouds harder than Snow. I've felt more intimidating vibes from a dandelion than I get from Snow. I've seen more---
Nope.
That dead horse has had enough.
Speaking of dead horses… what fuckin' glue factory did Kalinda Krogerdorf escape from?! Must be another one of those wretched MadClown goons. Lemme look this hag up on the old internets right quick. Okay… I already got her name wrong. Oh well. She's got seventy-three nicknames… and all of them are stupid. She's from fuckin' Narnia. She's three and a half feet tall. She's got a tail… and horns… and pink skin.
Oh.
I get it.
She's a Furry.
Gross.
Well… I'd love to burn her alive inside of that silly costume. Ain't no fuckin' way a Furry is winning the Renovation1 Whorecore Championship at Monster Mash. That shit won't fly as long as Apokalypse is around.
No Furries. No Snows. No Madmen.
That's right! Madman Szalinski is crawling out from a rundown van down by the river to enter the Tournament of Doom. I'm somehow related to Madman… but our family tree is so fucked up that I lost interest in figuring it out. Alls I know is he's a frumpy, old fuck who still wears a Halloween mask. I'll give him the choice of trick or treat. Both of them involve me dismembering him with a fuckin' hatchet. Then I'm going to tear that stupid mask off and shit in it. Then I'm going to staple it back over his face.
Speaking of masks… hello there, Carnivore. Or is it Danal Dream? I don't know which version of you will be at Monster Mash… and I don't fuckin' care. You'll be just another victim of the deathmatch monster called Apokalypse if you step up to the fuckin' plate. I don't need to hide behind a smiley face mask. I know exactly who I am and what I'm about. You don't even know how to tie your fuckin' shoes without someone from MadClown tellin' you how good of a boy you are!
Fuck outta here with that MadClown nonsense!
The only one I have even a modicum of respect for is Nirvana Wolfgang Von Frankenstein. He reminds me a lot of the man who kidnapped and raised me. I went to Nate's wake and caught up with Nirvana over a spiked punch bowl. Sure, I was the one who spiked it. That party was fuckin' dead anyway. Nirvana is the only one who embodies the spirit of this tournament… other than me, of course.
He's one sick son-of-a-bitch… and if he wins this tournament… Renovation 1 might as well dig its own grave. For the sake of this company and its Whorecore Championship… y'all better pray that I get close enough take out his good eye. A blind man can't win the fuckin' tournament.
Probably.
Nirvana… may the best man win… and by best man… I obviously mean Apokalypse. You're a man out of time and I'm the end of everything. All the sick shit you've done in your lifetime pales in comparison to what I'm prepared to do to keep you from winning this fuckin' tournament.
Don't believe me?
Just watch.
What about the rest of you scrubs?
Sylk Michaels… Leo Cook… Panis Diakos… Enforcer… Atara Themis... Vonn Richter… Austin St. Peters… Oliver Last… Evan-lee Chase… Pasha… Miles A. Way… Adelaide Ainsworth… Graham Clauson… Mike Mason… The Judge… The Wolf… The Siren… The Father… Mark Wright… James Ceno… Chelsea Pebblepot… Jaxon Pierce Wilder… Jacqui M… Scorpio… Sierra Silver… Sam Laramie… Flynn Ghostwood… Lissie Hope… Tommy Strycnine… eNaiT… Maverick… Abbi Stein… Kelly Penkzee-Nelson… Ryder Blade… Samuel Flowers… Noah Graham… Kalma Valkyrie… Jack Jackson… Brittany… Benjamin John Beaufort… Tad Lawrence… Chad McFly… Jago… The Syndicate… Anna Raven Jade… Lachlan Hennessy… Calypso Ava Jade… Raul Temper… Hightower… Professor Andrew Wilson… New York CruZe… Jake Wakefield… Ice… Damian Simmons… Drake Knight… Henri Black… Eddie Dread… Scott Slayer… Nightshade… Persephone… Claire Hawkins… Alex Scott… Melancholy… Madison Lewis… Cody Larson… Terra Walker… Lex Collins… Mark Brooks… Miss Michelle… The Robot… Joey Leclair… Noah Garcia… Justin Sayn… The Red Angel… Kandi Washington… Jock Wilson… COLT… Noah Hanson… Taysia Lattimore… Cole Kelly… Dave Spades… Emmit Kraus… Duncan Aries… Solomon Graham… Flop… Giggles… Tammy T… Scott Sinclar… Mute…
If any of you putrid mouth breathers enter this fuckin' tournament… I'ma do unspeakably terrible things to you.
Don't believe me?
Just watch.
Now...
If Frank fuckin' Lowe steps foot in Rolling Hills Asylym… I'ma fuckin' murder him in cold blood. Think I'm just playing around? Fuckin' try me. That piece of shit killed my brother-in-law. Then when Nate was being honored at the company whose banner he died under… fuckin' Frank tore shit up and rained on the parade. There is no place on Earth that man is safe.
From any of us.
The Tournament of Doom will be a gory disasterpiece. None of this would be possible without the vision of Nate. When he dominated the Pure Division last year… he fell back in love with hardcore wrestling. He had such ambition to continue innovating the very idea of hardcore wrestling. This tournament revives his vision… and with it… a Renovation1 Whorecore Championship to the winner.
It will be my honor and pleasure to be the first to hold that championship. I don't give a fuck about challenging that tiny broad for her World's Championship after this is over though. I'll give that contract up to the highest bidder once the smoke settles from Monster Mash.
Oh.
Yeah.
The smoke is from the fire.
Once I win the tournament… I'm going to lock everyone inside the asylum and burn that motherfucker to the ground.
Hopefully my old man makes it out alive.
You know… I never considered the possibility of my dad also entering the tournament. He's probably got his hands full with some goofy match where he's going to electrocute a little girl. Madwoman Szalinski? Some relation to Madman? That would make her some relation to… me?
I don't fuckin' know.
If she jumps into the deep end with the rest of us lunatics… I'll turn that bitch into chum.
Watch out for the great white shark.
They call him Apokalypse.
Nobody is safe.
Not even me.