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The Weakest Link On Earth
01-08-2018, 07:01 AM
Post: #1

[Image: giphy.gif]






Notice: All non-Danny Imperial superstars seen in the following vignette are all highly paid homeless people, any semblance to real-life friends or family is purely coincidental. Okay, it’s not, but go fuck yourself. No names have been changed.


“Here are the six contestants preparing for todays show. Only one of them will win up to 10,000 pounds, the others will win nothing when voted off as… The Weakest Link.”

The camera pans out to a glass table, well six familiar faces are seated, talking to each other mostly happily. On the extreme left is Robbie Bourbon, in his usual luchador outfit, smacking Drew happily on the back as they rattle on about how Bourbon lost all his credibility and Drew lost all his marbles. Beside them is seated Bearded War Pig, in his combat vest, playing through it to make sure he didn’t lose a single bullet on his way here, he had to be prepared if he was forced to shoot his way out of this room, filled with pansy ass motherfuckers.

On his right is Robert Main, with a wide smile on his face, talking excitedly Robbie’s eyes roll into the back of his head, simultaneously a moan is released from Jim Caedus who’s a man down from him. Seated between the two is The Engineer, Dexter Bright, with both his hands off screen and under the table. Both Robert and Caedus make eye contact mid-moan, winking at each other.

The camera cuts for a second, before returning, this time the six wrestlers standing behind podiums, with one Danny Imperial standing in the middle. Face beautifully painted white and red, with the likeness of a claw, he stands with his hands crossed as the camera zooms out.

“This, is the weakest link. Any of these six contestants could win up to 10,000 pounds. They’ve only recently teamed up, but to get the prize money, they’ll have to work together. However, five will leave with nothing.”

The camera pans to the first contestant, a proud looking Robert Main. Wearing his dingy beanie, a mouldy toothpick in his mouth.

Pre-recorded crowd boos


“My name is Robert Main, and I uh, I’m The Omega, the greatest Hart Champion of ALLLLLLLLL Time and my best friend’s name is Jim Caedus, we really love eac-”

The camera cuts him off, panning quickly to the next contestant before he finishes.

“Heh, my name’s Drew Archyle, I’m the man of the people, greasy haired son of a bitch that learnt to dissect my opponents from Jim Caedus when he used to visit me in back in the hospital. Yeah, admitted there for sticking one too many things up my butt, that’s me!”

“AHHHH, GAAAHH, PEW PEW PEW, BEARDED WAR PIG.”

The camera moves on to the next man, the built-like-Jacob-from-twiling Jim Caedus..

“Jim Caedus, I’m your mother o’ fucking everything, ready to haul your cum-guzzling ass back to my trailer and penetrate you with one of my many thesauruses. I’ll make you regret every single grammatical error you’ve made for the rest of your life whilst making you listen to me for five hours more than necessary. Some even call me the fillibusterfuck.”

The camera moves to the final contestant, a crazed looking baldy who hungrily looks around for more people to please.

“The Engineer, Dexter Bright, politician, cunt, and loves to equally divide a pie whenever I can. Not the mathematical type too *wink*.”

And finally panning to the last contestant, Robbie Bourbon.

“And I’m Robbie Bourbon, former government official, former superhero, former credible fighter, formerly able to satisfy my girl, oh yeah, and current Universal Champion.”

The camera finally returns to our loved-host, the pre-recorded boos that had been playing throughout all the contestants introductions transitioning abruptly into cheers.

pre-recorded cheers


“Yes, yes, you love me. I get it. But I’m not the star of today’s shows, much to all of your disappointment I’m sure. Today, only one will prevail! Let’s get on with it, shall we, let’s find out who’s…. The weakest link!

So, the way this game works is simple. I ask a series of questions, as a timer counts down at the bottom right of your screens. Every correct answer furthers you on a ladder to 10,000 pounds, every wrong answer starts you back down at 20 pounds, the first rung. Before the next question is asked you may say bank, securing the amount of money currently won but! One of you will have to be eliminated.

Now, I know this is a little different from the usual game, but shut the fuck up and play.

The weakest link at every round will be, drum roll please…. Electrocuted! Not to the death, but still, let’s keep this electrifying. It’s a wonderful what people off craigslist will let you do, for some extra Franklins.”


Danny claps his hands together and the lights shut off, spotlights appear on each of the contestants and Danny. Danny has a few cue cards in his hands, from which he reads.

”Question one, for Robert Main, could you be more of an arrogant cunt?”

Robert looks up, face showing not an ounce of nervousness.

”Of course, I’m not nearly on Jimmy’s level. Man, I wish I could blow him right here. And JIMMY isn’t even on Robbie’s level. At least Jimmy has some decent wins under his belt and isn’t a complete moron.”

Danny nods once, shifting immediately to the next contestant, a graphic at the bottom of the screen shows 20 pounds being won.

“Drew, will you leave us as suddenly as you appeared to us?”

“Fuck ya, from oblivion I came, back to oblivion I shall return. Isn’t that how most of us “Old-timers” end up anyways? I can hear Raven calling me as is. Also, Robbie seems to be aging rapidly, might need to find him a home to admit him to.”

The meter moves up from 20 pounds to 40 pounds.

“Pig, a semi-automatic rifle up your butt or Bourbon’s dick?”

“HURGGHHH OINK. TRICK QUESTION, BOURBON DOESN’T HAVE A DICK, JUST A LARGE CAVITY WHERE HIS DICK SHOULD BE. A RIFLE. OOOOH WEEEEEE.”

The meter moves up from 40 pounds to 90 pounds

“Jimmyboy, Mr. 24/7. Should you cash-in your briefcase on Robbie Bourbon for the Universal Championship?”

“Hell naw, this lamentable, imprudent, sapphist, mother-couldn’t-love, cum-guzzling, meth-case-fucker’ll probably lose to you, I’ll just cash in then. You’d probably put up more of a fight anyways.”

The meter shifts up once more from 90 pounds to 200 pounds.

“Now that you’ve jerked off Bourbon by assuring him you weren’t going to cash in on him, and teaming up with Jim Caedus, if you had to choose… Who’d you keep whoriing yourself out to?”

“I’m a sneaky snake. I only really look out for myself, but it’s good to have friends around. It’s only a matter of time that Jimmy takes Bourbon out… I like to be on the winning side. As of now, in my comfortable position as double-champion, it’s merely good for business to be friends with everyone. And what’s good for me, is good for the XWF.”

The meter shifts up again from 200 pounds to 450 pounds. Danny shifts his attention to the final contestant. Robert Main seems to have looked over Danny’s shoulder and seen the question on the card, suddenly forgetting he was only playing the character of Robert Main, the actor yells out to the Robbie Bourbon to bank! But the idiotic man doesn’t, choosing rather to play on as instructed.

“Who will win your next Universal Title Defense? The irrepressible Danny Imperial, or the Hambugler past his prime, you?”

The man squints at the cue on his screen, trying to read it word for word.

“Three seconds until it's finally over and I'm done smashing you to bits like the Universal Champion should.”

A loud buzzer pierces the room, and the meter drops from 450 pounds right down to zero. Danny seems to snap, even though he scripted all of this. Leaping from the middle of the room, he lands ontop of the podium infront of the fake-Robbie Bourbon, grabbing him by the collar and shaking the large man.

[Image: 916e03eff988c788317a9a8c66419809.gif]

“IS THAT FUCKING RIGHT? THREE SECONDS OF BLISS, HM?!”

Danny pants in front of the big man, his mouth a grotesque combination of a crazed smile and a growl.

“BANK!”

“Buh- That’s not how tha game work-”

“I SAID BANK!”

The lights dim once more, white late replaced with a dark red tint, illuminating everyones faces.

“Who is the Cunt of Canterbury? The Tip of the Get Fuckedberg? The Bellend of the locker room? Who lost you money? Who, is the weakest link.”

Danny spits out the words whilst still having Robbie’s collar in his hands, tightly. A little ticking noise comes up, as each of the contestant right down something on a card infront of them.

“Times up! Reveal your cards.”

Each of the other five contestants reveal their cards, Bourbon himself being a little tied up. Each of their cards say “Robbie Bourbon” on it, even BWP’s which is just some odd squiggles seems to resemble the name.

“OH. WHAT A SHOCKER. Robbie, it’s you. You’re the fucking weakest link. Your enemies think so, even your team mates think so.”

Danny shoves the fake Robbie Bourbon away from him and turns his attention to the camera.

“Yes, this is a mock up. Yes this took forever to organise, but fuck me, it was worth it.

You see, your teammates might not say this to your face. But you can be sure at least one of them is thinking it.

The other one is so blindly in-love with you he’d probably dip out of this federation along with you when you finally realise how pathetic you are.

The leader of your faction? Fucking hell dude, one of your members had to strike a deal with the better faction just so they wouldn’t rape you guys through the hallways of the XWF.

The last faction war poisoned the federation? No, the last faction war weaned us off the week. The Kings needed to fuck off and they knew it, they came back for one final glory run and got it. AX3 was destined to get fucked the moment they thought it was a good idea to hire a paedophile and the man with all the STDs, Chaos.

That’s what war is, the filtering of the weak. Only the strong remain, only the strong get to fight another day. You, Bourbon, aren’t one of the strong. You simply haven’t had a challenge effective enough to get rid of you. We’ll change that.

You must’ve looked at Vinnie’s ranking and laughed to yourself after you saw the card. They skipped through the top contenders and gave you someone lower down the list. Caught yourself another break eh? First Finn Kuhn, next Danny Imperial. Good thing it wasn’t Doc, or Caedus, hell, Main would have been scary, hm?

Get fucked.

I honestly half expected Finn to take you out the other day. And I have zero hope for Finn on a good day. You’ve just watered yourself down that much. I remember when I first came here, how you decimated the world with that Hart Championship. You were a monster.

Were.

Now, all you are is terrified of the monsters under your bed. Terrified of the monsters that are going to reach under your cover of The Motherfuckers and take away your shiny little toy. Monsters in the shape of Caedus, Robert Main, The Engineer…. And me.

But that blanket isn’t going to protect you from this monster.

Fuck the Motherrfuckers.

I’m going to waltz into that ring, and take what you hold dear away from you, and leave you in tears. Run off to Momma Madison and Papa Engy. BWP will probably cuddle you to sleep.

Whilst your title means absolutely nothing to me, seeing you with absolutely nothing after that blatant disrespect you showed me… That means more than you can even imagine.

Say your goodbyes early, Bourbon, for next wednesday, this monster will have his day.”


Danny slides a hand into his coat pocket, pulling out a remote and hitting the only button on it. A shriek burst out of the fake Robbie Bourbon as electricity courses through him from a hidden shock collar. The big man tumbles to the floor, still screaming.


“The people have voted! You’re the weakest link on Earth, Robbie Bourbon.”

.

[Image: giphy.gif]
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