::::Continued From:::: Russia With Love

Chris nudges Main.


” I'll bet I gut that fucker first! Nobody likes slapping around that cunt Peter Gilmour around like I do because honestly it’s fun and he usually knocks his self out tripping over his fucking words. So, let’s make this interesting…” Chris holds up a crisp dollar bill. ” Rob, I bet you a whole dollar that I eliminate Pete before you can.”



Robert and Chris turn facing one another as an intense staredown ensues between the two for several seconds before Robert pulls out a money clip filled to the brim with crisp one hundred dollar bills.


” Let's up the ante... How's five grand sound?"



Page shurgs.



"Fine by me. That's five g's in my pocket."



"Challenge accepted.”



Both Robert and Chris turn as Alexei walks into frame with a glass of Russia's finest Vodka.



"Gentlemen what arrre we betting on?"



Page and Main look at one another for a split second.



" Five grand on who takes down Peter Gilmour first in our first match. Clearly, we will be in more than one with this team... It's a side bet."



Alexei seems interested.



"Let's make it ten..."



Main and Page nod in agreement like they had a choice in the matter. Alexei motions for Thunder Knuckles to come over to the table.



"Now gentlemen follow me, we have deathmatch to attend."







” Sorry about your luck Main. You and Alexei just lost ten grand a piece...”


” Do you know who’s luck I’m not sorry for?”



Robert asks as he waits for Chris to answer. Chris just eyeballs Robert waiting as Robert leisurely leers down at his right wrist tapping his Rolex before Chris begrudgingly replies.


” Fuckin’ who?”



” Dick Powers.”



The name alone is worth nothing more than an eye-roll from Chris Page has he throws his hands up in the air blurting back.


” Are you kidding me!?!? Is this a thing?”


” Dude the XWF is an outlaw mud show, of course, it’s a thing.”


” Fuck it. I quit.”



Chris starts to walk from under the club's lights and into the darkness that surrounds them before Robert grabs Page by the shoulder.


” Come on Chris, think about how fun it’s going to be to officially welcome him to the house of pain… Rumor has it he prides his self on his junk so we could always cut it off and shove it down his throat. I'm sure that wouldn't be the first time he's had a shrimp dick tickling his tonsils. ”



” Dude the only reason I’m here is because of you and it has NOTHING to do with anything you just stated. Keep that fucker away from me because there’s absolutely nothing I despise more than a cheap fucking gimmick that screams nothing but nonsense and makes a mockery out of a business that I happen to give a shit about.”


” All the more reason for us to officially welcome him to Wargames by slitting his throat and watching his blood soak the inner halls of the White House if you ask me, for no other reason for being a douche’.”


” Now that kind of mentality I can get behind, yes, bleeding like a stuffed pig… I see it now, it’s glorious.”


” At least Dick isn’t as useless as Mastermind.” Chris laughs under his breath causing Robert to take notice. ” What’s so funny?”


” Remember when you were stuck having to make him a credible challenge to the Universal Title?”


” Yes asshole! It’s like the unwritten rule of winning the Universal Title… Your first defense is against Gilmour and your second is against Mastermind; not like you’d know anything about it seeing as you’ve never done it.” Chris immediately starts to shake his head as he flips Robert off. ” Just playing the hand I was dealt partner, but back to Mastermind because this is undoubtedly the first elimination of that tussle and for Shane’s team that'd be Gilmour.”



Chris chimes in.


” I’ll take that ten grand now.”


” In every food chain there’s a weak link and in the case of Peter Gilmour for Team he is that weak link.”


” He’s our Lowmo.”


” Precisely.”


”Harsh.”


” Only difference between Gilmour and Mastermind is Mastermind will at least cut turd of a promo and debut and shirt that will be on clearance in a weak.”


” To bad it’s all going to be for nothing; pretty much like all the attempts that might fall before us as we are poised to grace the battlefield and engage in War. It doesn’t matter who you are or what team you represent because we are the odds on favorites to survive the entire fucking thing.”


” In a situation where it can be every man for themselves you have the united front that is Cataclysm and we’re not going to allow anyone to stop of us from completing our mission to be the last two standing.”


” And by doing that it only hammers home our point when we tell you that we are the measuring stick, that we are the straw that stirs the drink and that WE are BIGGER than the XWF and its champions… except for Thunder Knuckles, that dudes a riot.”


” They're all fucked.” The dimly lit light from the basement flickers repeatedly before going out allowing the darkness to consume Cataclysm.



"Gentlemen this way."







One by one they followed, single file down the long unilluminated hallway. The light flickers as Alexei Medved dawns his trademark black fitted suit leading the way.



"Brotherrr Evgeni sends grrratitude forrr excepting invitation, he is eg-cited you all come forrr death match. Tonight RussianRose kill orrr be killed and he happy like hell you all come to witness. But his trrrue happiness comes when he helps you gentlemen win WarGames!"



The Medved brother explains walking confidently as he looks back periodically at the three wrestlers following him. The grungy hallway didn't even seem like it was in the same building as the upscale night club. Its walls looked used and abused with pure filth. The three members of  Team cataclysm listen on as they continue following the manager down the back of his club.







" Firrrrst off there is no betterrr thirrrd round pick then Rose. All of the XWF know this and I believe you all know this. Gilmourrr you cannot be put in same class as brrrother Evgeni, you arrre joke of XWF. He lose most matches and when he win come against filthy pig, Taco. This man is complete pooosy, if he come to Russia my people leave him dead in strrreet beforrre he leave aerrroporrrt. In Amerrrica you call him a neverrrr-was, in Russia we call him bitch. Plain and simple, one word to describe simple man. In Amerrica Gilmour verrry differrrrent frrrom teammates, in Russia verrry similar. All bitches... Hirrred Gun is little bitch...Storrrm is big bitch... Dick Powerrrs come to Russia, come to  where Medved Family grow up and trrrust me you will be only bitch forrr miles. Shane, you pick band of bitches forrr team. You arrre tough man, strrrong man but intelligence level is low."



Alexei looks back and issues a stern warning.



"Watch! Stairrrs!"



Alexei abruptly stops before he begins descending into what can only be described as a dungeon. The concrete walls leave a cold feeling as Main, Page, and Thunder Knuckles plunge behind the Medved brother. Once again the group stops, this time at a large rusted steel door. It's not even a second before the rusted door creaks wide open.







A large man wearing a black T-shirt, sunglasses and slicked back brown hair stands there and seems apologetic as Alexei begins to scold him.



" Stooopid, how do you know I'm not copsky orrr Moscow drrrunk. You always check forrr membership ignorrrasky. This V.I.P. and high rrroller arrrea, you know this. Now find my special guests best seats, best drrrinks and whateverrr the fuck else they want. Is that underrr-stoood?"



The man nods his head and removes his sunglasses revealing a nasty and untreated looking scar across his left eye. He then flashes a quick smile revealing his rotten teeth, black looking pebbles in place of where his white teeth should have been. Alexei holds the door open, inviting the XWF talent to come in.



"Comrades, dont forrget you arrre guests of Medved family. You will be trrreated no less than kings. Enjoy some drrrinks and I will join you at rrringside table forrr main event."



Alexei holds open the rusted steel door and grins enthusiastically at his brother's Wargames teammates as they slowly walk by, each one making eye contact with the grinning Medved and giving him a head nod before entering the basement.



"See you soon."



Alexei's voice seems distant now as it gets drowned out by the heavy bass from the Russian rap music playing in the background, quite a difference from the techno upstairs. The man who once guarded the rusted steel door had now disappeared into the crowd of mostly middle-aged men with suits and others from all walks of life. But sharing a common interest, all here to watch a fight.



Robert takes a glance around the cracked grey concrete walls of the basement and then back at his Wargames partners. Page is wide-eyed as he notices the rows of plastic lawn tables and chairs, mostly occupied. One of the empty ones, however, have a small piece of paper that reads XWF in black permanent marker. Page nudges his tag team partner with his elbow.



"Looks like X marks the spot."



Chris exclaims as he points over towards the empty plastic table with three matching empty chairs. Page is first to take his seat as Thunder Knuckles leisurely follows and takes the seat beside him. Robert takes a moment to take one more look around the unsettled basement. He glares first at the blood-stained canvass in the in the middle of the room then seems to study the ripped ring ropes hanging by a thread before taking a seat beside TK.



" This place is a complete shitho-"



Before Main can finish he is interrupted by the same man guarding the basement door. In his right hand a chilled bottle of vodka, in his left a tray holding three empty glasses. He places the items on the table and flashes a smile revealing once again his rotten chiclets.



"Anything else."



Main is first to shake his head pouring himself a glass of ice-cold vodka, Thunder Knuckles flips the man off. Page is first and only to have a request.



" You got any OG Kush, preferably a pre-rolled?"



The man has a blank look on his face.



" It's all good my man... I brought my own shit."



Page reaches into his pocket and pulls out a perfectly rolled spliff. He holds it out in front of him making sure there are no defects before putting it in his mouth. The Russian man nods his head in approval before holding out a lighter to spark up the joint. Suddenly the music changes to a circus-like tune. The fans turn their attention to the old wrestling ring as a very muscular wrestler begins to make its way to the ring. He enters the ring wearing black wrestling tights and posing to the crowd.







" Looks like RR's opponent. He's a pretty big boy, this might get interesting."



Main explains with a bit of uneasiness in his voice. Russian Rose gallops out to the ring with a steel chair in his hands slamming it into the gigantic humans back.



" Damn..."



Robert gazes in Page's direction noticing TK is gone. The audience cheered wildly, as the unhumanly monster smiled shaking off the chair shot, and raised his fists. Alexei lights a cigarette standing next to Robert watching on. RR swings again but this time the bald demon catches the chair tossing it to the canvas as RR throws numerous body shots not budging the giant. RR backs away then shoots, but it stopped with thunderous double axe handles to the spine. RR releases the leg as he's pulled off the floor only to be slammed back to the canvas with a belly to belly suplex onto the steel chair. A sudden gush of pain jolted throughout RR body. His stomach ached, his arms lost tension and his legs began to weaken as Alexei noticed something was wrong. RR screamed out in agony but could not lift his arms or move his legs. Alexei takes his suit jacket off looking down at Robert putting his cigarette out on his tongue.







Alexei pulled a handgun from his waistband stepping into the ring just as the mammoth man was about to crush Russian Roses skull with one final stomp a shot rang out dropping the man to the canvas next to RR. Alexei rushed to the side of RR.







"Немедленно зовите на помощь! Help now!"



" Jesus... It was a deathmatch, just not what I envisioned... I don't want to be captain obvious here Main but we're down a guy."



Robert rushes into the ring kneeling next to Alexei.



" Alexei what happened?"



Alexei placed his hand on Robert's shoulder.



" The Medved family is in debt to you... Injured by chair... I come to White House and fight by yourrr side in his place. Give me time and I be back once he safe. Meanwhile, enjoy anything."



Robert stands up shaking Alexei's hand watching the Russian Rose leave with medical professionals and Alexei. Page enters the ring looking at the humongous dead body in the middle of the ring.



" So, why is it where ever we go a stack of dead bodies are left behind... What did Alexei say?"



Robert smiles.



" Alexei is taking Russian Roses place on the team."



" So, what you are saying is we have a cold-blooded killer and mob boss riding with team Cataclysm?"



Robert nods lighting a cigar.



" Alexei said to enjoy ourselves and he would be on the first flight out with us. Right now let's go and get some of that Russian Vodka."



Page and Main leave the ring grabbing the bottle of Mamont vodka off the plastic table. Main takes the first swig passing the bottle to Page.



” We all know Shawn's going to have little problems steamrolling past the King of the Mid Carder in Centurion… I mean the dude drafted Chaos, that’s a guaranteed loss.”


” Shawn can thank his lucky stars that this is an elimination, and while I know I’ll get shit for the team I selected but Fuzz sure as shit screwed the pooch in his own right. Thank God that he will carry his team to victory because while Fuzz might be the only survivor it will all but guarantee our that we to cross the finish line one more time. I'll go ahead and put my boot back up his ass and beat him yet again.”


” We can only pray that more will come to the party because we would love to allow you to watch as we shatter the skulls of your handpicked puppets.”


” Speaking of handpicked puppets how is Atara doing?”



Chris snickers under his breath as he takes another pull from the joint while swigging some vodka.



” I think we might keep Shawn around long enough to watch us slit the throat of his fuck toy.”


” I’m not so sure Atara’s team will make it the distance now that I look at the possibilities with Team Carnes, I mean clearly the captain is already toast as he’s just eaten yet another loss by our hands and has zero momentum to lean on but there’s something about that Graves kid that makes me want to drop him where he stands… again.”


” In a perfect world, we will see Shawn and Atara reunite in the Main event only to be slain like the fucking sheep they truly are. It's going to be fitting it's by our hands.”


” What sucks for the other teams involved is just how much they’re having to rely on others to get them to where they want to be… and then there’s the two of us that can carry a five-person team in our sleep and leave with our arms raised in victory in the process.”


” I can’t help it they lack talent or ability… they should direct that hostility towards their parents for having piss poor genetics.”


” We know walking into this shit show that we’ve got the biggest bullseye on our backs and that you’re all desperately wanting to be the person to say they got elimination over Chris Page or Robert Main, we know that the attempts to sabotage our efforts are in full swing and we know that we’re walking into this party minus two for all extensive purposes.”


” Do you see us running? Do you see us tucking our tails between our legs and heading for higher ground?”


” Fuck no!” Chris exclaims as he thumps the joint off camera.


” What you see is us standing here with open arms ready to take all of your best shots before laughing in your face and then kicking your asses!”


” We’re digging our heels into the trenches absorbing your best shots while rolling our eyes with just how simple you’re going to be to dispose of when you’re left relying on your actual abilities outside of running your mouths from a distance.”


” Commonly referred to as the “Shawn” approach.”


” Well there’s that and there’s the complete no selling of anything that’s said to or about him.”


” Good point.”


” I know right!”


::::To Be Continued::::