Post by alycestarchylde on May 13, 2018 14:21:59 GMT -5
The problem began in the Chateau de Fantomas, a trendy and exclusive nightclub inside the Kratya Okyabr area of Moscow, home to some of the trendiest and best nightclubs in all of Moscow. Chateau de Fantomas (french for House of the Phantom) is a members only club featuring a unique atmosphere based in part on a French comic strip and in part on the old story of the Phantom of the Opera. There is a grand piano...and a mock up of a grand piano behind where the DJ sits, spinning usually mild electronica.
Of course, Danny Tenegra (that's MDK to the WGWF faithful) was a member. Alyce and he had arrived in Moscow early because Alyce had friends here. They had spent several hours visiting a family that lived in a sub street dwelling that had at one time been part of the Moscow sewer system before they modernized it and turned sections of the old system into dwellings.
Danny had been delighted as the whole family wore kitty ears and tails. But after dinner (that consisted largely of cod so salty Danny was sure the fish could not rot) they decided to go out.
Thus they had wound up at Kratya Okyabr (Red October for those who don't speak Russian) section of Moscow. Alyce had fallen in love with the complex and they had hit multiple bars. They started in the Rolling Stone and eventually, had wandered into Chateau de Fantomas only because Danny had a membership from a previous visit.
Alyce had continued to hammer back Russian Vodka like it was Kool-Aid enjoying the potent burn in her throat and the bloom of heat in her stomach. At some point during the evening, she decided to stand up on the table to dance to the potent electronica reeling through the room. The problem was that dancing on the vintage tables is not allowed at the Chateau.
One of the security team (who was masked like all the employees of the Chateau) had come to pull her down. A startled Alyce kicked him in the face. He toppled backwards and landed on the tile floor, the mask lying ruined on the floor, a knot rapidly rising on his bald head. The giant bald security man stood up, looking like a hairless Cro-Magnon that had been stuffed into a suit, he pulled out a telescoping baton and a smile crossed his crude featured face.
“Теперь, милая дама, я бил тебя, как будто я твой бойфренд,” he said.*
“Fuck you, asshole,” she screamed as she leapt off the tabletop driving both feet into his face and causing his nose to explode in a pulpy raw mess. The back of his head hit the floor and cracked the tile and he did not move again. Alyce picked herself up off the floor and brushed herself off only to find herself surrounded by four masked members of security, all with telescoping batons.
Alyce counted then shrugged. She moved fast ducking low and driving foot at the nearest guard's knee. There was a sharp snap and he tumbled to the floor. Alyce had already moved on using the kneecapping shot to propel her across the way and back first into the thug behind her. As she made contact she could feel him sprawling backwards and drove her elbow into his sternum to drive the air from his lungs. She raised her fist as if saluting, driving her knuckles into the man's chin. By the time he hit the floor, he was out. As she flew up and back she brought her legs up and out kicking the other two men in the chin. Both dropped, as much out of surprise as pain. When Alyce stood up, she had a telescoping baton in hand. Alyce hit one of the two guards across the jaw with the baton and then ducked. His comrade, who had been aiming his own baton at her, now missed striking his already injured friend by mistake. Alyce then stood and struck him a third time on the jaw and the man dropped to both knees and fell face forward to the tile floor. The fourth and final assailant grabbed her by the shoulder and hurled her to the floor. In one fluid movement she drove both her heels into the man's knees and then her left foot into his groin. He doubled forward and Alyce hit a palm strike across the throat and a punch to the jaw. Soon he too was sprawled across the floor. Alyce stood up only to find the bartender standing in front of her, waving a pistol. He said something in Russian and motioned for the door.
“I know leave now when I hear it,” Danny whispered guiding her outside. A bitter wind blew down the street and MDK heard approaching sirens. He guided her back to the Rolling Stone and then through their kitchen to an exit opening onto a back alley. From there, they found an open door which led into a restaurant kitchen and through there into a small but fancy restaurant that appeared to be closing down for the night. A manager said something and made for them, but MDK drug Alyce along and soon they were out the front door and into a nearby taxi. From there, Danny said the name of their hotel and the cabbie stepped on it, zipping around 4 police cars arriving in the area.
“What was that,” Danny asked.
“What,” she replied, “he came at me, I was surprised and I kicked him. After that, the fight was on, there was nothing I could do.”
“You could have bribed him, this is Moscow, after all, not the states,” he replied, “you could have let me deal with it. You could have apologized.”
“Never apologize,” she responded staring out the window, “I learned that from you.”
Danny shrugged, “fair enough, but our evening is at an end, unless there is another bar you would like to get us kicked out of.”
She shook her head, “No, thanks Danny, but I am not feeling it.” She turned to him with a sad smile.
“I think I just want to go back to the hotel,” she said.
He stared at her for a long moment, “Why?”
She looked back at him, a look of puzzlement on her face.
“Is it this business with Tristan Slater,” he asked.
“No,” she replied, “He is a pussy, a quivering fucking labia surrounding a hole made to be pummeled. He is a bitch who can't even acknowledge his own cowardice.”
Danny laughed, “Okay well, if it isn't him, is it this Strange Bedfellows match?”
She shook her head, “Nah, I have beat both guys on the other team...”
“Wait a minute,” interrupted.
“...and to be honest, I don't really care who wins this shit...except for the fact that part of me is driven to succeed so I will probably get torqued for it in the moment”
“Then what is it,” he asked.
“Tomorrow is Mother's Day,” she said, “Who are you calling? Or e-mailing?”
Danny stared back at her without saying a word.
“Me,” she replied, “I've never had a mother, I had a lady that ran a group home. She doesn't care if she hears from me ever again. I just need some time.”
Danny nodded and the cabbie took them back to the hotel.
They arrived at the Triumph Plaza, the tallest hotel in Moscow (and Europe for that matter). Alyce pulled Danny close and kissed him and then headed up to their room. Danny headed for the bar.
Alyce took the elevator up and grabbed the vodka from the honor bar. She walked out onto the balcony and looked out over the Muscovite skyline. She thought the city was beautiful and part of her wanted to go back into it, to feel it's pulse, to dance in it's nightlife. But another part of her just wanted to be away from people. Mother's Day always made her irritable. It served as a reminder that she was an orphan, that her birth mother was as dead as a coffin nail, and while she had made friends in this world, she had lost the bond that almost all daughters shared with their mothers. It left her confused and uncomfortable...part of that whole being born 'between' thing played into it as well. She opened the top of the vodka bottle and let the wind take the cap falling, falling to the cold ground below.
She climbed to the top of the railing and stared out at the world. She shook and swayed in the wind, threatening to topple to the ground, ending her strange life. She laughed. A cold bitter laugh. She was in the hands of the Universe now and whether she lived or died, the fall would be an exhilarating finish.
She sucked down some more vodka and then upturned the bottle letting the clear liquid shower to the ground below. She smiled at the thought of a Russian bundling up their coat thinking it might be raining. That person might tell their children that in Russia, it even rains vodka.
And then it washed over her. The rage, the pain, all of it and she screamed, roaring her awkwardness in challenge to the Universe. She toppled backwards landing hard on the balcony and banging her head against the glass door with a quivering boom. And she laughed. Mother's Day was tomorrow...but Monday was Brawl and she could get through the one to get to the other.
Alyce sits in her throne, a sword in hand. She smiles at the camera and then hurls the sword away and begins pointing at the camera like she is pointing at a person.
“First of all, let me speak to my 'partner' in this match.
I don't have any respect for you. None. You don't face challenges. You cheat your way out of them. You didn't pin MDK, you pinned John Cable. You didn't pin me, you pinned Jackdaw. You are a coward and completely untrustworthy. I don't like breathing the same fucking AIR as you much less having you on my side.
Let me give you some advice. Follow my lead, do what I say and this will all be put behind us very quickly. If you insist on being an asshat...like you ALWAYS do...things are likely to not go well for you. Frankly, I almost hope you don't show up...because not having a partner...would be better than having YOU for a partner.
So warm up your battered, chapped, man-pussy and prepare to actually fight for once in your life!
So Tristan, please, keep your sore pussy out of my way and let me take care of business, you scandalous little bitch.
To quote the Queen from the Movie 'The 300', This will not be over quickly. You will not enjoy this! I am NOT your Queen!
Now, with my partner, who didn't RETAIN his title but rather ESCAPED with it, well and truly dealt with...let me look across the ring.
First, MDK. Ah, you my King, how I do not look forward to this...however, we both knew it would come to this. And while I would gladly lay down for you, it is not in my nature to do so...as it isn't in yours...and I doubt the ruse I used last time will work a second time. Still, we have talked about this, we both knew that management would attempt to turn us against each other and so if it comes to that...fight well, my King. Beat me, if you can. But know, absolutely KNOW, that I will do the same. However, I do know that you bear an onus almost as odious as my own...and we both know who I am talking about, and that would be John Cable. While your hatred for him does not rival my hatred for Slater, frankly, your lack of respect for him does.
Will that slow you down? Will that give me an edge? Are you prepared? We will discover the answers to these questions my love...but when the better 'man' wins...I still expect flowers and dinner after the show. After all, we can't have the potatoes thinking that we aren't on the same page, now can we?
Moving on to your...partner. John, you were once feared, and I suppose there are those who still do. But I am not one of them. To me, you are a bison. At one time, it was the most dominant animal on the prairie and the natives tackled them only at need.
But then, real people came in, They had guns and killed them by the droves, in some cases leaving the bodies to rot.
Consider me one of the savage cowboys. You are someone I have beaten so often that you might want to think about changing your ring name to 'Starchylde's bitch'. Frankly, I will probably be spending the most time with you in this match. You are the weakest link.
You are the one I can beat and not feel bad about it. Frankly, I think Slater will probably go after you as well. After all, isn't that how he got the title from MDK? Pinning your bitch ass? I would consider you an old blanket. Slater and I are probably gonna beat you so much we wear you out.
So step up, flapjack, because I am going to knock your ass down like Godzilla knocked down Tokyo. I am going to beat you like pancake batter.
So here it comes, the Strange Bedfellows match. Enjoy it while it lasts because MDK and I plan on ruining this place and this is only a pit stop along the way!
So Welcome to Wonderland, boys. It gets wild from here!
*= “Now, pretty lady, I will beat you like I am your boyfriend.” - Russian Ron, editor.
\
Of course, Danny Tenegra (that's MDK to the WGWF faithful) was a member. Alyce and he had arrived in Moscow early because Alyce had friends here. They had spent several hours visiting a family that lived in a sub street dwelling that had at one time been part of the Moscow sewer system before they modernized it and turned sections of the old system into dwellings.
Danny had been delighted as the whole family wore kitty ears and tails. But after dinner (that consisted largely of cod so salty Danny was sure the fish could not rot) they decided to go out.
Thus they had wound up at Kratya Okyabr (Red October for those who don't speak Russian) section of Moscow. Alyce had fallen in love with the complex and they had hit multiple bars. They started in the Rolling Stone and eventually, had wandered into Chateau de Fantomas only because Danny had a membership from a previous visit.
Alyce had continued to hammer back Russian Vodka like it was Kool-Aid enjoying the potent burn in her throat and the bloom of heat in her stomach. At some point during the evening, she decided to stand up on the table to dance to the potent electronica reeling through the room. The problem was that dancing on the vintage tables is not allowed at the Chateau.
One of the security team (who was masked like all the employees of the Chateau) had come to pull her down. A startled Alyce kicked him in the face. He toppled backwards and landed on the tile floor, the mask lying ruined on the floor, a knot rapidly rising on his bald head. The giant bald security man stood up, looking like a hairless Cro-Magnon that had been stuffed into a suit, he pulled out a telescoping baton and a smile crossed his crude featured face.
“Теперь, милая дама, я бил тебя, как будто я твой бойфренд,” he said.*
“Fuck you, asshole,” she screamed as she leapt off the tabletop driving both feet into his face and causing his nose to explode in a pulpy raw mess. The back of his head hit the floor and cracked the tile and he did not move again. Alyce picked herself up off the floor and brushed herself off only to find herself surrounded by four masked members of security, all with telescoping batons.
Alyce counted then shrugged. She moved fast ducking low and driving foot at the nearest guard's knee. There was a sharp snap and he tumbled to the floor. Alyce had already moved on using the kneecapping shot to propel her across the way and back first into the thug behind her. As she made contact she could feel him sprawling backwards and drove her elbow into his sternum to drive the air from his lungs. She raised her fist as if saluting, driving her knuckles into the man's chin. By the time he hit the floor, he was out. As she flew up and back she brought her legs up and out kicking the other two men in the chin. Both dropped, as much out of surprise as pain. When Alyce stood up, she had a telescoping baton in hand. Alyce hit one of the two guards across the jaw with the baton and then ducked. His comrade, who had been aiming his own baton at her, now missed striking his already injured friend by mistake. Alyce then stood and struck him a third time on the jaw and the man dropped to both knees and fell face forward to the tile floor. The fourth and final assailant grabbed her by the shoulder and hurled her to the floor. In one fluid movement she drove both her heels into the man's knees and then her left foot into his groin. He doubled forward and Alyce hit a palm strike across the throat and a punch to the jaw. Soon he too was sprawled across the floor. Alyce stood up only to find the bartender standing in front of her, waving a pistol. He said something in Russian and motioned for the door.
“I know leave now when I hear it,” Danny whispered guiding her outside. A bitter wind blew down the street and MDK heard approaching sirens. He guided her back to the Rolling Stone and then through their kitchen to an exit opening onto a back alley. From there, they found an open door which led into a restaurant kitchen and through there into a small but fancy restaurant that appeared to be closing down for the night. A manager said something and made for them, but MDK drug Alyce along and soon they were out the front door and into a nearby taxi. From there, Danny said the name of their hotel and the cabbie stepped on it, zipping around 4 police cars arriving in the area.
“What was that,” Danny asked.
“What,” she replied, “he came at me, I was surprised and I kicked him. After that, the fight was on, there was nothing I could do.”
“You could have bribed him, this is Moscow, after all, not the states,” he replied, “you could have let me deal with it. You could have apologized.”
“Never apologize,” she responded staring out the window, “I learned that from you.”
Danny shrugged, “fair enough, but our evening is at an end, unless there is another bar you would like to get us kicked out of.”
She shook her head, “No, thanks Danny, but I am not feeling it.” She turned to him with a sad smile.
“I think I just want to go back to the hotel,” she said.
He stared at her for a long moment, “Why?”
She looked back at him, a look of puzzlement on her face.
“Is it this business with Tristan Slater,” he asked.
“No,” she replied, “He is a pussy, a quivering fucking labia surrounding a hole made to be pummeled. He is a bitch who can't even acknowledge his own cowardice.”
Danny laughed, “Okay well, if it isn't him, is it this Strange Bedfellows match?”
She shook her head, “Nah, I have beat both guys on the other team...”
“Wait a minute,” interrupted.
“...and to be honest, I don't really care who wins this shit...except for the fact that part of me is driven to succeed so I will probably get torqued for it in the moment”
“Then what is it,” he asked.
“Tomorrow is Mother's Day,” she said, “Who are you calling? Or e-mailing?”
Danny stared back at her without saying a word.
“Me,” she replied, “I've never had a mother, I had a lady that ran a group home. She doesn't care if she hears from me ever again. I just need some time.”
Danny nodded and the cabbie took them back to the hotel.
They arrived at the Triumph Plaza, the tallest hotel in Moscow (and Europe for that matter). Alyce pulled Danny close and kissed him and then headed up to their room. Danny headed for the bar.
Alyce took the elevator up and grabbed the vodka from the honor bar. She walked out onto the balcony and looked out over the Muscovite skyline. She thought the city was beautiful and part of her wanted to go back into it, to feel it's pulse, to dance in it's nightlife. But another part of her just wanted to be away from people. Mother's Day always made her irritable. It served as a reminder that she was an orphan, that her birth mother was as dead as a coffin nail, and while she had made friends in this world, she had lost the bond that almost all daughters shared with their mothers. It left her confused and uncomfortable...part of that whole being born 'between' thing played into it as well. She opened the top of the vodka bottle and let the wind take the cap falling, falling to the cold ground below.
She climbed to the top of the railing and stared out at the world. She shook and swayed in the wind, threatening to topple to the ground, ending her strange life. She laughed. A cold bitter laugh. She was in the hands of the Universe now and whether she lived or died, the fall would be an exhilarating finish.
She sucked down some more vodka and then upturned the bottle letting the clear liquid shower to the ground below. She smiled at the thought of a Russian bundling up their coat thinking it might be raining. That person might tell their children that in Russia, it even rains vodka.
And then it washed over her. The rage, the pain, all of it and she screamed, roaring her awkwardness in challenge to the Universe. She toppled backwards landing hard on the balcony and banging her head against the glass door with a quivering boom. And she laughed. Mother's Day was tomorrow...but Monday was Brawl and she could get through the one to get to the other.
Welcome to Wonderland
Alyce sits in her throne, a sword in hand. She smiles at the camera and then hurls the sword away and begins pointing at the camera like she is pointing at a person.
“First of all, let me speak to my 'partner' in this match.
I don't have any respect for you. None. You don't face challenges. You cheat your way out of them. You didn't pin MDK, you pinned John Cable. You didn't pin me, you pinned Jackdaw. You are a coward and completely untrustworthy. I don't like breathing the same fucking AIR as you much less having you on my side.
Let me give you some advice. Follow my lead, do what I say and this will all be put behind us very quickly. If you insist on being an asshat...like you ALWAYS do...things are likely to not go well for you. Frankly, I almost hope you don't show up...because not having a partner...would be better than having YOU for a partner.
So warm up your battered, chapped, man-pussy and prepare to actually fight for once in your life!
So Tristan, please, keep your sore pussy out of my way and let me take care of business, you scandalous little bitch.
To quote the Queen from the Movie 'The 300', This will not be over quickly. You will not enjoy this! I am NOT your Queen!
Now, with my partner, who didn't RETAIN his title but rather ESCAPED with it, well and truly dealt with...let me look across the ring.
First, MDK. Ah, you my King, how I do not look forward to this...however, we both knew it would come to this. And while I would gladly lay down for you, it is not in my nature to do so...as it isn't in yours...and I doubt the ruse I used last time will work a second time. Still, we have talked about this, we both knew that management would attempt to turn us against each other and so if it comes to that...fight well, my King. Beat me, if you can. But know, absolutely KNOW, that I will do the same. However, I do know that you bear an onus almost as odious as my own...and we both know who I am talking about, and that would be John Cable. While your hatred for him does not rival my hatred for Slater, frankly, your lack of respect for him does.
Will that slow you down? Will that give me an edge? Are you prepared? We will discover the answers to these questions my love...but when the better 'man' wins...I still expect flowers and dinner after the show. After all, we can't have the potatoes thinking that we aren't on the same page, now can we?
Moving on to your...partner. John, you were once feared, and I suppose there are those who still do. But I am not one of them. To me, you are a bison. At one time, it was the most dominant animal on the prairie and the natives tackled them only at need.
But then, real people came in, They had guns and killed them by the droves, in some cases leaving the bodies to rot.
Consider me one of the savage cowboys. You are someone I have beaten so often that you might want to think about changing your ring name to 'Starchylde's bitch'. Frankly, I will probably be spending the most time with you in this match. You are the weakest link.
You are the one I can beat and not feel bad about it. Frankly, I think Slater will probably go after you as well. After all, isn't that how he got the title from MDK? Pinning your bitch ass? I would consider you an old blanket. Slater and I are probably gonna beat you so much we wear you out.
So step up, flapjack, because I am going to knock your ass down like Godzilla knocked down Tokyo. I am going to beat you like pancake batter.
So here it comes, the Strange Bedfellows match. Enjoy it while it lasts because MDK and I plan on ruining this place and this is only a pit stop along the way!
So Welcome to Wonderland, boys. It gets wild from here!
*= “Now, pretty lady, I will beat you like I am your boyfriend.” - Russian Ron, editor.
\