Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

Mr Killjoy · **01-15-2017, 11:50 AM**

Paul Hunter walks through the Cook County morgue hallways with substantial pace. It had been a few days since he had heard the news about his and Trax's former employer, Greg Anthony, who was found dead, brutalized and murdered, in an alleyway in his hometown , the Windy City, Chicago. Almost immediately after hearing the news, Hunter had called Trax on the phone to give him the news, and the proceeded to book a flight to Chicago. Paul had made a couple of calls, called in a couple of favours, and had been granted access to view the body which was being held in the building he now currently walks through. A thousand thoughts race through Pauls head as he traverses through the buildings narrow corridors, who could of done this? And why? Greg Anthony was no saint, both Paul and Trax knew that all to well, he made enemies, and his ego and poor financial decisions were for the most part the reason that FCW was drove into the ground, but never in a million years did Paul ever expect something like this to transpire. Paul continues to dwell in his thoughts as he comes to some metal double doors, he pushes them open and steps into a room where he is met with the sight of a man in white overalls and coat standing over a metal table with a sheet covered body laid on top of it. Upon his entry the man looks towards Paul and nods.

Ah, Paul Hunter correct? The names Nigel Avery, I've been expecting you.

Yeah, I know.

Paul walks up to Nigel and the table, staring down at it sullenly.

This him?

It is... before we proceed, may I enquire what your profession is exactly? You certainly appear to have some pull, pulling the strings that you did to be granted this...viewing. I know you're a former wrestler, my son was a fan, but what is it you do now?

Nigel was it? That information is classified, lets get this over with, I want to see this for myself, if it really is him.

Very well, if you're sure.

Nigel pulls the sheet halfway off to reveal the naked body man his face barely distinguishable due to the fact its been caved in and crushed, Paul staggers back in shock before regaining his composure.

Jesus Christ.

Indeed, lets have a run down, victim is Caucasian, appears to be in his mid fifties, time of Death estimated roughly just a few hours before the body was found. He was identified by the forms of identification found in the wallet in his pockets. Later DNA tests then confirmed that this is indeed Greg Julius Anthony. Your former boss, correct?

Yeah...yeah, correct.

I'll continue. Cause of death...extreme, extreme blunt force to the head, but the worrying part is this, see these indentions... here? Those were made with FISTS, this man had his head crushed and was pummelled to death by someone's bare hands, whoever did this, possesses incredible physical strength, unlike I've ever seen...the sheer brutal, threatening nature of this murder...do you have any idea who could of done this?

I could take a couple guesses but I don't know for sure, but trust me, I intend to find out.

This man was a close friend of yours?

I wouldn't say that, he was a stubborn self centred prick, who killed his own company with his greed and backstage politicking. Ending up costing himself a lot of money, shit cost me and a good friend of mine money too, but he didn't deserve this. I need answers, I need to find out who did this and why, and I'm going to find out just that.

Nigel silently nods as the two continue to examine the body as the scene begins to fade.

Elsewhere...

Trax stares outside the window of his bedroom quarters in the cruise ship, the cruise ship which in a few short days will be hosting the next upcoming Wednesday Warfare. Trax, along with his fiancé Jackie and new companion from the future Eve had boarded the ship yesterday morning. Several other XWF wrestlers have also already boarded on the ship but Trax had opted to keep himself locked away in his quarters and avoid any form of interaction, or rather, due to the nature of the company he works for and the nature of the co workers he shares it with, unnecessary and violent confrontations. Trax would usually be in the mood for such things but not at this current time, with a thousand thoughts going through his mind. His former boss Greg Anthony was dead, his best friend Paul Hunter was out there trying to uncover any leads, meanwhile Trax was shacked up in this ship, feeling somewhat uneasy but it wasn't sea sickness he was experiencing, the ship was still docked, however Trax could still see the icy cold waters below and the snow covered mountains in the distance, Trax surveyed the outside scenery and then focused on his reflection in the window before shaking his head and address the camera, not taking his eyes off his reflection.

Lemme tell you something LeStrange, yes I am still choosing to refer to you as LeStrange and not your newer even more ridiculous moniker, if you intended to waste my time you've chosen the absolute worst possible time to do it. Typical LeStrange. May I point out to you and everyone else that you challenged me to a match, yet we are just a couple of days away from Wednesday Warfare and I have yet to hear from you, not a peep. You're not on this ship yet I know that much, I've asked several of the cruise ship attendants if you've boarded and they don't even know who you are. I can't say I'm surprised, about people not knowing who you are OR you being an apparent no show. Maybe you've come to your senses and realised that what I said was true, there is no score for us to settle because we're playing in different leagues, always have been. You took the Xtreme Championship off me when I unfortunately succumbed to an epileptic fit in the comfort of my own home, you didn't beat me in a standard match for it, you CAN'T beat me in a match, not now not ever you fool. You challenging me, it wasn't brave, it wasn't ambitious, it was foolish and pointless, you know how pointless it was, let me quote something YOU said about YOURSELF in an old promo of yours, your challenge was as...

Le-Dibolicunt Said:... pointless as my existence

That's right ladies and gentlemen, LeStrange, St Dibolicus, whatever the hell you choose to call him, has in the past gone on record to say his existence is POINTLESS. How very nihilistic of him. I almost feel bad I'm going to have to beat up someone who mentally beats themselves up like that...almost.

I mean you do actually have a point though, your existence here is pretty much pointless, at least in the world of XWF, never won a meaningful match, the one major title you won you won it by a fluke and you had one of the least memorable Xtreme title reigns of all time which is saying something because out of all the major titles the Xtreme Championship has had the most holders, and there you are LeStrange, right there at the bottom where you're always going to be.

If you DO actually crawl out of whatever Hell hole you're hiding in and face me Wednesday I have no doubt in my mind that its because you've actually deluded yourself into thinking you can turn your abysmal career around, a career filled with loss after loss regardless of what name or gimmick you go by, by getting a win over yours truly MR FN' DOMINANCE but it just isn't going to happen. I'm going to beat the absolute shit out of you, I'm going to take you to your limit and then punish your body and mind beyond it until you're screaming the words "I Quit" from your lungs. Then? You're going to get sent back into the hole from wench you came and I'm going to go back to focusing on other, actual relevant things and opponents such as Chris Chaos and the Universal Championship. You can go back to ruling a part of Hell or whatever, I'll go back to ruling the ring, you want to step to me? You want to challenge me? Then I'm going to unleash Hell on you and put you through pain your simply not going to be able to endure, counter or comprehend. You are a fucking moron and you always will be but you are going to LEARN something LeStrange, you are going to learn, finally, once and for all, that you should never, EVER cross the wrong side of the-

KNOCK KNOCK!

Trax stops mid sentence and turns towards the door finally looking away from the window, he walks towards it and opens the door with his key card and comes face to face with a cruise attendant holding a phone.

Call for you Sir.

Me?

The attendant nods and hands Trax the phone.

Please return back to reception once finished, thank you and good day.

The attendant walks away and Trax steps back into the room closing the door behind him and putting the receiver to his ear.

Hello?

Hello Trax, long time.

Who is this?

Oh, you don't recognise the sound of my voice? Disappointing, how long has it been, how many years.

Trax narrows his eyes trying to make out the distorted voice on the other end.

I'll ask again, who is this?

You know who this is, and I know who you are, and I know you heard what I did to poor old Greg Anthony, and you want to know what else I know? I know our good old mutual friend Paul Hunter has gone to check Gregs body, he's in the morgue as we speak, you want to know what he doesn't know though? I'm currently situated on the rooftop of the building opposite the front entrance of the morgue, sniper rifle in hand, as soon as Paul steps out of those doors into the open, BAM, bye bye the legendary Extreme Machine.

Who the fuck is this? Why are you doing this? I swear if you hurt Paul..

Now now, you're in no position to make threats, why am I doing this? That's for me to know and you to find out, come find me, come save your friend. I know ALL about you, I know the abilities you possess now, I know you're capable of being here in an instant, best hurry, Pauls just walked out the front door heh, so excuse me.

The person on the other end hangs up, Trax drops the phone and closes his eyes, focusing on exactly where he wants to go before teleporting out of the quarters.

Elsewhere...

Paul Hunter is walking down the front steps of the morgue after concluding his business inside, when suddenly Trax appears in front of him.

PAUL GET DOWN.

PHOOT!

Trax lunges at Paul and throws him to the ground as a bullet shot from the rooftop of the seven storey building opposite the Morgue whizzes past grazing Trax's arm, the two land hard on the concrete steps.

Ugh! Trax!? What the Hell?

No time!

Trax teleports again onto the rooftop that the shot was fired from and reappears meters away from a man wearing a baseball cap lowered to conceal his face and holding a 50 Cal Sniper Rifle, the man turns and Trax Trap Silences the rifle out the mans hand before grabbing him by his coat collar.

Who are you!?

Trax rips the baseball cap of the mans head to get a better look at the mans face to reveal...someone he doesn't know, the man is pale faced and sweating profusely, bottom lip quivering, he looks terrified.

I-I-I-I'm s-s-s-sorry, I had n-no choice, he drugged and kidnapped me and my family, my wife, my son, he let me go but said if I don't do this or if I go to the police, h-h-he'll kill them.

Who? WHO took you and your family? Who put you up to this?

He said...he said I can't say I...

Tell me or I'll KILL you!

Please! I...I...

The man stops and his face somehow becomes even paler, he clutches his stomach and winches in pain, Trax lets go of him and the man drops to his knees.

Something isn't right...something...inside me...what has he done to me!?

Hold still.

Trax drops to his knees and places his ear carefully to the mans stomach as he can hear the faint sound of... beeping?

That sounds like...the Hell...

Trax then looks up at the man in horror as it dawns on him.

OH SHI-

KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM

On the ground below, Paul looks up and sees a massive explosion on the building rooftop in front of him. A tinge of dread ties a knot in his stomach as he picks himself off the ground and waits with bated breath. Suddenly Trax reappears in front of him and grabs his shoulder.

We need to go right now.

Trax what the fuc-

And with that Trax teleports the two far away.

Elsewhere...

Trax and Paul both reappear in Traxs quarters in the cruise ship. Trax immediately collapses on his bed holding the arm that the sniper bullet grazed. Paul looks around the room, completely stumped.

Um OK what the fuck just happened, did someone just try and shoot me? And what was that explosion and... shit...your arm..

Paul goes to approach Trax to help but Trax holds his hands up and shakes his head.

Flesh wound, I'll self-heal in a second. But we got a serious issue, the guy that killed Greg, they abducted some poor souls family and then blackmailed them into attempting to kill you, he called me to let me know it was happening though, I think he wanted me to save you, and then when I confronted the guy who he made fire the bullet at you, he activated and detonated a bomb he had placed inside him, killing him and almost killing me.

So the person that killed Greg is after us too.

Yeah... looks that way.

Well shit.

Paul places a hand on his shaking head.

Jackie and Eve, where are they?

On the ship, at the bar no doubt, ships full of security, they're safe.

OK, OK, well you got any idea who did this? Because my visit at the morgue came up with nothing except we need to be looking for a guy who can crush a dudes head with his bare hands.

I...I got no idea Paul, we'll figure it out though, we must, we'll find out whose doing this and we'll get them before they get us. That's a promise.

Right...man I need a drink, lets go meet Jackie and the Eve at the bar, best we keep this to ourselves for now though, don't want to worry the ladies.

Yeah...agreed, lets go.

Trax takes off the long sleeve top he is wearing which has been torn on the arm from the bullet and focuses healing the wound on the arm with his powers. The wound closes up disappears before Pauls stunned eyes, Trax then dashes the top in the wardrobe and picks out another similar top before putting it on and heading out the room with Paul as the scene fades.

Meanwhile...

The scene opens in a dingy and cluttered apartment living room. A woman and a teenage boy are tied and gagged to two wooden chairs in the middle of the room as a brute of a man stalks the shadows avoiding the light coming from the faint lightbulb. The captives, a mother and her son, both struggle against their restraints, duck tape muffling their cries.

Well, it seems like your husband and father has served his purpose, the message has been sent.

The man paces back and forth in the shadows and chuckles to himself. The mother and child continue to struggle and cry out to no avail.

But don't worry, you will both be seeing him again in no time, sorry to say but neither of you can leave here.

The man finally steps into the light to reveal himself, its none other then Shane Grimson, the man released from prison last year, the man who was kicked out of Extreme Dominance by the co founders Trax and Paul Hunter in the company known as FCW, and then not long after kicked out the company altogether by the owner Greg Anthony a few years ago. The hulking seven footer of a man smiles evilly while brandishing a kitchen knife. He walks towards the mother and both her and her son begin to struggle more erratically while shouting even louder, the noise being muffled by the tapes around their mouths however. Grimson places a finger to his lips and shakes his head before placing his free hand on the woman's head and looking her in the eyes as he smiles.

Shhhhhhhhh, shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, it's OK, this will be quick, no mother should outlive their child, which is why you're going to die first.

Shane slits the woman's throat with the knife and blood begins to pour out of her neck and down her body as her eyes roll into the back of her head and she goes limp, dead. The son begins to cry out some more tears now pouring out of his eyes as Shane approaches him next.

No more tears child. Pain is pleasure and Death is a release, so says...The Executioner.

Shane slits the boys throat in one rapid motion and the boy stops struggling and becomes motionless as blood begins to pour out of his neck too. Shane licks the bloody knife and smiles as he walks away from the now dead mother and child and walks across to the other side of the room where there on a wall are three photographs nailed to the wall, one of Trax, one of Paul Hunter and one of Greg Anthony. The picture of Greg Anthony has a big bold X across it. Shane looks at the photos of Trax and Paul before finally driving the bloody knife through the picture of Trax.

Soon.

Shane laughs and walks away leaving the bloodied knife in the wall still rammed through the photo of Trax as everything goes black.

Fade.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Threatening Nature
Author	Message