Continued from Time will tell... Prt One

Father Slathe was maybe gone for about ten to fifteen minutes before returning, with a smile on his face and an XWF referee, what the hell does he think we are untouchable? We’ve already put a camera guy in the hospital, now a match official? I did hear him correct when he said he had a plan to relieve my urges before my match on Savage. Father Slathe stops and turns back toward the referee, Father Slathe tells him something, since when Father turns back around and continues toward my cell, the official does not follow. Not feeling comfortable about the whole situation I step back toward the rear of my cell and stand on edge, waiting for some kind of game or attack to be sprung on me.

Father Slathe instantly can tell my weariness and smiles letting out a soft chuckle under his breath, my eyes begin to scan the boiler room over and over. Nothing seems to be out of ordinary, maybe my paranoia was just brought on from always being tricked and manipulated during training. Father Slathe pulls a key from around his neck tucked under his collar and undershirt on a chain, worn like a necklace; my head slightly tilts to the left. Father Slathe places the key in my cell lock and twists until the gears turn unlocking the cell door.

Father Slathe: “What is the matter, my child? You should not be of worry; you should be of strength, heart, and glory! You see son, Mr. Sephtis is in the building as we speak, I know the name means nothing to you, but the Championship Title he holds allows for us to Attack him anywhere, anytime, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. So there is our solution to when you need to feed your urges in between bouts. Shall we?

Nodding in agreement I step forward passing by Father Slathe exiting my cell, I stop outside and stare at the referee for a second my mind filling with thoughts of gouging out his eyes and bashing the side of his head with hammer fists and elbows until his brains leak out of his ear. Father Slathe breaks my train of thought by placing his hand on my shoulder then pointing over to a table where four small buckets sit. I nod and walk over to the table and look inside each of the buckets: glass shards, marbles, thumb tacks, and glue. Dipping both of my gloved hands in the glue I then dip them into each other bucket containing the sharp and hard objects much like that of a Taipei Death Match. We quickly then make our way up and out of the boiler room down in the basement.

After about two minutes wandering the halls, Father Slathe stops in his tracks and points down the hall at one of the biggest men I have ever seen in my life. When the fuck did Giants come back? I think to myself while I take off sprinting, the massive man must have caught a glimpse of us. He quickly turns facing full frontal, in a powerful, athletic, middle linebacker like stance, eh, actually scratch that, more like an alive wall. My feet begin to swiftly move quicker and quicker, now within arms reach, he lunges for a Bear Hug that would most likely collapse a lung. Dipping under his large arms I quickly run up the wall next to us, squatting toward the wall I thrust off spinning my body in a one-eighty.

Delivering a hard right hook with a hand covered in marbles, thumbtacks, and shards of glass. Both of our bodies go slamming to the ground, mine rolling up like tumbleweed down the hall, while his body almost cracks and indents the cement floor like a damn redwood tree falling. The referee and Father Slathe make it closer to the action, I am now sprawling out from the ride that I kind have enjoyed. Father Slathe’s eyes light up at the sight of blood splattered on the opposite wall I ran up and a small pool on the floor. Slowly I start climbing to my feet, thinking to myself this wasn’t all that hard.

To my surprise upon arriving on my feet and my wits back and about, Broken Oswald had already gained one foot and one knee. Without a second wasted after the discovery, I quickly charged forward executing a flurry of different kicks, and a few knees to the side of his head in a quick and powerful combo. Not knocking him off his balance I charge in for a sprinting head-butt. Quickly I am met with a frying pan size hand palming my masked face like Shaq palms a basketball, with enough strength to lift a car, Broken Oswald throws me back into the wall back first. I bounce off the wall like a bouncy ball from the amount of force Mr. Sephtis used to counter my attack, stumbling forward, I perform a combat roll to avoid injury from impact back on the cement floor.

Lying on my back, with my eyes toward my enemy I notice his legs begin to move in a scissor-like motion, letting me know he is on his way to continue what I started. I roll so I can see his whole body, he looks pissed, but not like when a mom is mad about not doing chores, more like an uncle when you steal all his weed. Just as he reaches down to grab my body I roll between his legs and quickly jab his right Achilles tendon and kick him right in the beanbags, dropping him to his knees again. While I roll backward and up to my feet before sprinting forward to use his head as a speed bag, with each punch, blood from Broken Oswald splatters the wall. After about ten blows, I stop to admire my work, his face is covered in blood, his vision must be blurry, equilibrium would have to be thrown way off, and his breathing was heavy and slow.

Chuckling, believing it would be over with the push of a finger and the cover with my boot, I walk up to Broken Oswald, how Ironic how he is “Broken” and he had just been broken. My finger presses his bloodied up forehead slightly. Instantly his arms shoot up and out grabbing me by the throat, he stands up, lifting me straight into the air my feet dangling, his grasp so tight, I could feel my blood cutting off to my brain. Holy shit, who is this man and how in the world is he still so strong even after blows from my “Surprise Gloves” like he received. Luckily for me, Mr. Sephtis likes slamming his prey too much, because right before my eyes are just about shut all the way, he smashes me on the cement between his mammoth legs.

My spine feels like jello as I gasp for a breath, the wind completely knocked out of me, like I just had been run over by a car. Broken Oswald climbs to his feet and yanks me to mine, dazed and in critical pain, I quickly poke and gouge at his eyes, to buy me a little breathing time, since it seems like the man is pain tolerant. Slowly I start walking down the hall and soon Broken Oswald is in hot pursuit, we make it out into the parking garage, where I notice my only option to decommission this tank like man Broken Oswald. Quickly I make it to a double decker bus, climbing in I start toward the stairs to climb to the second story, Broken Oswald catches up and grabs my ankle pulling me back down the stairs to the first story of the bus.

In the tight space he can barely maneuver, so I use it to my advantage to escape his bone-crippling clutch. Between the bars, I spin my free leg and begin unloading reverse donkey kicks to his skull, after about what felt like a hundred kicks Broken Oswald releases his grip on my ankle and I begin upward on the stairs again. Making it to the top of the double decker bus I make my way toward the back of the bus and look down to the fifteen to twenty foot drop and smile under my mask and nod my head, this height should do the trick. Turning around, Broken Oswald has now made it to the top himself.

I throw two middle fingers up in the air to anger him, it works, he charges like a bull with its nuts tied back to its anus, like at the rodeo. Just as fast and powerful as one too, right as he reaches me toward the edge, I drop and execute the perfect toe hold, sending him face first over the guard railing of the bus and to his face busting fall to the cement floor of the parking garage. I climb to my feet slowly and take a couple of deep breaths before looking over the edge only to see the beast climbing to his feet. Shaking my head, I make the leap off the rail and deliver a double ax hammer to the top of his face from fifteen to twenty feet up off of the double-decker tour bus. He collapses to the floor as do I with my body on top of his and his shoulders perfectly square and flat to the surface.

1...

2...

Oswald seemed to slumber, as he tries to recover from the punishment given unto him by Mr. Tidbits. However, Oswald would kick out, out of his subconscious need to retain the title. Muscle memory from all the times people have tried to come and take his title. His shoulder rising up off the ground with a vengeance, breaking the count. Tidbits seemed bewildered that Oswald had been able to break out of the count and began to slam his fist into his face some more, only for Oswald to roar out and slam his large hands against the sides of Tidbits skull, clapping his ears, disorienting him. It allowed him to rise up, bloodied, angered. He didn't seem like his normal self. Oh no, it was someone much worse.

"Death comes for you..."


And his normal attire seemed to change into that of his Death Incarnate, as if magically changing before Tidbits eyes. He'd hold out his right hand, and that massive battle scythe appeared in his hand. Tidbits saw began to retreat, seeing the scythe. Only for the being once known as Ghost Tank to rush after him, showing his speed in spite of his massive frame. He swung his handle, tripping Tidbits up into the air, before a large leg rose up high into the air, ax kicking Tidbits into the ground so hard his back would crack in several places. However he'd not be on the ground too long as Oswald began an onslaught of knees, kicks, punches with his free hand, absolutely ruthless in his attacks.

He would then use his free hand to palm Tidbits skull, then slam him into a wall.

"You unleashed the Monster, Mister Tidbits. For this one time only, you meet Death."


He slammed a knee into his gut, before tossing him through a brick wall with the force of a cannon, revealing his power and anger. He followed through and soon after he'd swing the scythe around, in a whirlwind fashion before Tidbits would feel the scythe's tip slam into his guts. He began to move it around in small circles, opening his stomach. Then, he'd yank hard, tearing his body apart, and all of his organs began to spill out of him, eviscerating him. Tidbits could feel every slash after, even though the blood loss should kill him, and in all honesty, he is. however he could still feel the pain of being sliced to bite sized Mr. Tidbits. Then finally, a spike to his skull, and he'd awaken from his slumber, with him laying on the ground and the hurting Oswald kneeling beside him, hands upon his head, showing that everything that happened after the massive clap to his skull, Oswald had not let go, and everything that had happened was all a vision, a mindfuck in the highest order.

"Brother Tidbits!

I knew you'd come!"

He'd say as he stood

"What you saw was what I would have done to you, if I had not been Broken. You would be little tidbits of man flesh. You would live up to that name! However, you are still in dire need of being DELETED! Mmmyess. You have tried to go after my Championship of X-Treme, and I cannot abide that."

He picked him up, slammed his right knee into Tidbits's stomach, then pull his head between his legs. He followed it with putting him into the powerbomb position,

"Prepare to join the ranks of those that have been DELETED!"

He would then pop him up into the air and jump after, and they'd fall down to the ground as he spikes Tidbits's head right into the ground so hard he'd need several staples in his skull.

Oswald stands up after, looking down upon Mr. Tidbits.

"You are now considered OBSOLETE!

Mmyess."

Lordy, match made in hellven-

yada yada Oswald