Post by Dominator / Mortimer on Mar 13, 2018 18:22:22 GMT -5
The following is a re-imaging of the events of the X-Treme Wrestling Federation's annual yuletide Pay-Per-View; X-Mas X-Treme of 2011. For the original show in its entirety, please click the timestamp below.
SUNDAY 25th DECEMBER 2011 - 10.42pm
Location: LA Forum Arena, Inglewood, California, USA
Unbeknownst to the company that had erroneously entrusted him with ultimate power for one night, a sinister plot was afoot. To him, it was through a genie was about to grant him his three wishes. Like Guy Fawkes hiding in the basements of British Parliament, he watches the action unfold from afar, waiting for the perfect chance to initiate the first phase. Long before aligning with The Chronological Order, a younger looking Dominator sits with an infectious smile that has not faded since the day’s first light.
At the time, a war was being waged between the former longstanding owner, one Jonathyn Brown, and the current owner, the veteran known as “FuZz,” who came to power through nefarious means. Seeing this as a suitable excuse to inject himself into the equation and allowing himself to stand in the crossfire of their war of words, Dominator attempted to convince the two squabbling owners to grant him the rights and duties of the position of General Manager for the final Pay-Per-View of their year, the show where one solitary owner would be decided as all decision are made in wrestling; in the ring.
The show? The aptly titled ’X-Mas X-Treme,’ which would take place on Christmas Day, 2011.
Yes, the XWF were performing on Christmas Day long before any of the other major wrestling promotions were doing it.
Though Jonathyn and FuZz had voiced their grievances, the Board of Directors had greenlighted the proposal. Back then, Dominic’s curriculum vitae spoke for itself. He too had been a revered member of their roster for many years, inclusive of two separate tenures as the company’s commissioner. That was not to say that it had all been smooth sailing. Yet to mentally mature at this stage in his career, he mistakenly believed that the power that went straight to his head was rightfully his to abuse. Because of his misdemeanors, Dominic had been removed from power amidst a conspiracy formulated by Brown himself and Shane Carver, the current owner in the modern day.
They should have known better. After all, leopards never change their spots.
As such, Dominic had planted the seeds for his plan, the fruits he would seek to harvest by announcing he would act as the Special Referee between reigning Champion RJ Palmer and Number One Contender Jose Chavez, who had won the annual ‘Lord Of The Ring’ battle royal to claim such a position. As the match progressed, however, it became almost immediately apparent that the newly appointed official had little intention on enforcing fairness across this contest. A series of slow pinfall counts and physical altercations with both combatants were stirred in a cauldron to producing bubbling tension.
So irritated had RJ Palmer become with the referee’s actions that he sought to take down his opponent using the most controversial means he could think of at that given moment. With his World Championship in his hands, he looked to level his opponent, who, applicably, had been arguing with the official. Chavez hits a low blow to the referee, frustrated beyond logic, yet he is still able to evade the oncoming title belt aimed directly at his head. He ducks down, the gold impacts against the referee’s cranium instead. Dominator thuds to the mat, dazed and confused.
This, according to Dominator himself, gave him a reasonable excuse to carry out his plan.
As he comes to, Palmer is laying down on the canvas, staring dizzily at the ceiling. Chavez, a cruiserweight in comparison to the larger Palmer, is suitably positions on the top rope. He dazzles the fans with a Double Rotation Moonsault, landing perfectly on top of Palmer. He instinctively hooks the leg. Looking at the World Championship next to him, a belt that he had once carried with great sovereignty, he scoops it up into his hand. Without hesitation, he dives to the mat and begins a referee’s count….
“One,”
“Two,”
“Thr…psyche!”
With that, he drives the gold into the back of Jose’s head. Every single person in attendance is appalled by Dominator’s behavior. With that, Dominator grabs RJ Palmer’s arm and hauls him up onto his feet. He is barely able to stand, staggering groggily as Dominator hands him the belt.
“Go on,” he beckons. “Hit him again. Finish the job.” He offers different variations of this encouragement. Uncertain to what is transpiring, RJ Palmer cannot let the chance pass him by. As Jose feebly tries to return to a vertical base, RJ is ready to strike the second that Chavez is in a suitable position.
He never even sees the Double Cross coming.
Hoisted onto the shoulders of the giant, he is thrown down into the mat face first. Dominator looks down contently at the carnage he has created, blocking the torrent of boos and insults from the fans. He summons the timekeeper, who brings him a microphone. He lifts it to his lips with a wicked smile.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he begins self-importantly, “may I please have you attention.” He smirks to himself for a brief moment before continuing, looking down at the fallen participants competing for the belt he has clutched in his hand. “As the general manager of X-Mas X-Treme, I feel that it the actions of RJ Palmer and Jose Chavez in this match is disrespectful to the fans and everyone in the back who have worked so hard to get to their respective positions within the company. Therefore, I declare that this match is null and void.” Immediately, those in attendance jeer and boo relentlessly. They had been looking forward to this contest for weeks. For Dominator to act so irrationally was not warranted. “Furthermore,” he adds, “as general manager, I have the power to strip RJ Palmer of the World Championship. And that’s precisely what I am doing!” Although Palmer is by no means the most popular or respected individual, it was his own determination that had made him earn the title. The fans recognise this, acting sympathetically towards his predicament but continue to voice their dissent towards the official. “Furthermore, I would like to present to you your NEW World Champion…” To a torrent of abusive slurs, he hoists the championship belt high above his head before he confirms their suspicions.
“…Dominator!”
Even Dominic himself seems stunned by his revelation. His original intention was simply to ruin the show, but awarding himself with the XWF World Championship was done merely on a whim. The realisation of what he has done simply sets in. With this one announcement, he had managed to ruin the show as he intended but also fuel his own ego at the same time.
“Neither of you morons deserve to be the faces of the company,” Dominator screams unaided by the microphone, clutching the XWF World Heavyweight Championship close to his chest like Smeagle clutching the One Ring.
Before his celebrations can properly begin, some cheesy theme music begins to play. A middle aged man with thinning hair but a widening gut steps into view. This man is Jonathyn Brown; while not the original owner of the federation, he is perhaps the most established and well revered for turning the XWF into what it was on this day.
“What the hell do you think you are doing!?” he screams angrily. Instantaneously, Dominator recognises the error in judgement in terms of his timing. Preceding this contest, Jonathyn had become the sole owner of the XWF. Not being a wrestler himself, he had a representative compete on his behalf against the aforementioned veteran FuZz. Obviously, his delegate won the match, and along with it the ownership for his boss. “You have purposefully hijacked this incredible Main Event and completely ruined this show! Dominator, you will NEVER be World Champion again. Do you know why?” He pauses for a moment. The tyrannical egomaniac holds both his hands out apologetically, begging Jonathyn not to do what he thinks, or rather knows he is going to do. “Because I am relieving you of your duties as General Manager for X-Mas X-Treme and, furthermore, I am hereby banning you for EVER competing in the XWF again!” Dominator looks in total disarray. “You are no longer welcome here. Get the hell out of my ring.” Jonathyn concludes. The fans vocally approve of this decision, yet Dominator refuses to let go of the World Championship. He does, however, vacate the ring, staring directly at Jonathyn.
He smirks with malicious intent. Jonathyn suddenly expresses worry. This time, it was he who had made an error in judgement. He was defenseless against a towering figure like Dominator.
Fortunately, there was a savior ready to fight for justice.
“Ascend To Defend!”
The battle cry of the company’s resident superhero rings out. The crowd erupts into cheers as their beloved defender of justice makes his traditional entrance. A spotlight shines on the scaffolding above the Tron where the aforementioned hero poses with his back to the ring, fists planted on his hips. He turns, flicking his cape behind him. He quickly disappears back behind the enormous screen, leaving Dominator somewhat bewildered.
This vigilante is known as Mighty Kid, a breakout star within the reformed company. He had barely turned eighteen years old at this point. So many people had dismissed him as a boy living a childhood fantasy that could never be fulfilled. Time and time again though, his critics had been silenced by his actions. A staple of his era, he had also held multiple championships during his time within the federation. And given the nature of his chosen profession, he could allow such tyranny to run rampant in the land which he sought to protect.
Within seconds, Mighty Kid appears through the main curtain at the top of the stage, running straight past Jonathyn, who looks somewhat relieved to see such enthusiasm from one of his employees. The superhero delivers a dropkick to Dominator’s chest. Caught by surprise, the future Zenith cannot block it. In spite of his size, a mere five foot, nine inches and less than two hundred pounds, he hits with so much force that it sends Dominator clean off his feet. He clatters alongside the stolen World Championship along the entrance ramp. With Mighty Kid keeping Dominator at bay, Jonathyn waves for another referee to enter the ring to officiate the remainder of the match.
“This match will continue as scheduled!” Jonathyn decrees to the fans in attendance, much to their satisfaction in the form of roaring cheers. “Security, get this maniac off of my show!” he booms once more, pointing his finger towards the grounded Dominator. Mighty Kid attempts to keep him pinned under one foot. No matter how much strength or confidence the hero exerted, it was no match for an angry beast such as the man who, at the time, referred to himself as a ‘Self Proclaimed God.’ However, to his credit, Mighty Kid is able to subdue Dominator long enough for a hoard of security guards to appear from all over the arena. Some run down the entrance ramp, others from the side and more from over the barricades. All in all, they are able to apprehend the felon. In spite of his thrashes, Dominator is escorted up the ramp and through to the backstage area. All the while, the action is continuing in the ring.
“After everything that I have done for this company, THIS is how you repay me?” Dominator roars as the security guards drag him through the corridors. “All you have ever done is hold me back. I can bring greatness to the XWF if I reigned as its king. I did a better job as Commissioner than anybody else you have ever hired and I’m the single greatest World Champion you’ve ever had on your roster. That belt deserves to stay with me and you know it.” His arrogance shines through. So deluded is he in his own sense of self grandeur that he believes it to be true; like a lie that has spiralled so far out of control it can only be accepted as truth in order to make it sound all the more convincing.
“Listen to yourself!” Jonathyn says condemningly. “Do you really believe your own hype that much?”
“I believe in the hype because I know I can make it happen,” Dominator grins, concocting a new strategy on the fly. “One way or another, I will get what I want.” With that, he delivers a head butt to the guard pinning his right arm down to his side. Feeling the pressure ease against his limb, he thrusts it back to elbow the guard directly in its range. In spite of their numbers, Dominic is able to free himself from grip. Punches and kicks fly in his direction, yet he fights on with newfound purpose to achieve his goals; to prove his point.
Jonathyn stands agog.
The determination on Dominic’s face is admirable; everything he would want to see from one of his employees, so long as it could be contained within a wrestling ring. It was Dominator’s own selfishness that had caused him to terminate his contract on the spot in the manner that he did. Bodies fly, some slam against walls, others smash through tables. Like a tornado ripping through a village, the carnage left in its wake is astonishing and inspirational of awe. Dominator lurches towards Jonathyn, arching himself downwards so that his face is directly in front of his former employer’s. “Do you want to try and stop me, Jonathyn?” he asks with a maniacal grin, all sense of logic and consideration lost to overflowing madness that blinds him from his senses. There is no response from the owner. The would-be tyrant retraces his steps back toward the stage area. He is welcomed back to the main arena by a chorus of boos.
Blissfully unaware of his presence, RJ Palmer counters a Cattle Mutilation-like submission move into a modified Gory Bomb of sorts. No sooner
than he hits the move, Dominator’s humungous hand is pressed against Palmer’s windpipe, his fingers clamp either side of his neck. He lifts RJ Palmer into the air with one arm, planting him back into the mat with a Chokeslam. No sooner than RJ Palmer’s head bounces off the mat, Dominator pounces on the challenger, Jose Chavez, again with his hand over his throat. He lifts him up and hits him with his second Chokeslam. Victorious, Dominator throws his arms into the air, signaling to the crowd exactly why his ‘stage name’ is so apt.
Before Dominator can react, he is spun around by a mystery assailant dressed in red and black. Sure enough, Mighty Kid has returned in a bid to save the day, jumping up and latching on to Dominator’s head and pulling him downwards, his face driven into his knees. This Codebreaker-like move is something that the superhero conveniently names the ‘Vicebreaker.’ With the gargantuan tyrant down, Mighty Kid beckons to the rafters above. A rope lowers towards the ring; one that is primarily used as his own means of escape from conflict. This time though, he has a different purpose in mind.
The superhero loops his cord around Dominic’s ankle before tightening the knot as tight as he can. With one hand, he tugs on the rope, signaling for whatever mystical force may be above to raise them from the ground. Sure enough, after Mighty Kid wraps his arms and fingers around the knot he had tied, the two begin to ascend into the air. The crowd is elated by their elevation. Dominator frantically thrashes once more to try and free himself before they are at too great a height, but is unable to do so. He relents momentarily, coming to the conclusion that trying to free himself at this stage would be more detrimental to him. He may as well lie in wait for events to unfold and take care of business at an ample opportunity.
The blood begins to rush to Dominator’s head. Mighty Kid, despite his small muscle mass, is able to keep the near four hundred pound monolith in his grasp, although he has to continually adjust his grip every so often. Beneath them, Jose Chavez has made the most of Dominator’s rampage, draping his arm over the reigning champion. The referee counts to three. The fans burst into rapturous cheers and applause for their new champion. Mighty Kid nods, satisfied that his duty has been fulfilled. His lapse in concentration is his own undoing as Dominator coils his body upwards. Like a snake with its tail wrapped around a tree branch, he strikes Mighty Kid in the chest as he attempts to grab hold of the rope, which is now slowly descending downwards.
Then… the inevitable occurs.
With his long hair trailing vertically above him, Dominic descends with the grace of a meteorite as his body displaces the air beneath him. He can hear Mighty Kid shout out, his strength sapped by holding such a considerable weight for an elongated period of time. Initially falling headfirst, he is somehow able to rotate his body so that he is near horizontal; his spine now facing the floor. Rather than seeing the canvas rapidly approach like an oncoming truck, he instead sees the lights and the rafters above him move further and further away.
In those few split seconds, the five stages of grief manifest in Dominator’s facial expressions. Disbelief and anger merge first, his change in position is the result of his bargaining with The Grim Reaper. Sadness then fills his eyes, before finally he closes his eyes and spreads his arms, accepting the fact that he must play with the cards that Fate had cruelly dealt him.
A nanosecond of searing pain surges through his body, penetrating his spine and bursting through his chest; but then it is gone. He feels nothing. It is as though his whole nervous system has shut itself down to make himself impervious to the trauma.
The only component of his body that he knows to be functional is his heart, yet he could not move. It was difficult to tell if he had survived such a calamity. If this was life, he was paralysed. If he was dead, this must be limbo.
His whole body feels weightless; as if there is no consistency to the tissue and bone that comprise his frame. He tries to draw breath, but he merely gawps meekly. It is as if he is floating aimlessly in deep space. Though he tries to open his eyes, he only sees specks of light dotted around otherworldly darkness. For a brief moment, flashes hover around his eyes; perhaps the silhouettes of men and women? Of all his failing senses, it is that of hearing that has the most functionality; though all they receive are a cacophony of echoing screams emanating from the stands.
Slowly, things start to go black. Though not a religious man, he prays for a white light to grant him the liberty of stepping into the afterlife.
It does not come.
Time itself has ground to a halt.
SUNDAY 25th DECEMBER 2011 - 10.42pm
Location: LA Forum Arena, Inglewood, California, USA
Unbeknownst to the company that had erroneously entrusted him with ultimate power for one night, a sinister plot was afoot. To him, it was through a genie was about to grant him his three wishes. Like Guy Fawkes hiding in the basements of British Parliament, he watches the action unfold from afar, waiting for the perfect chance to initiate the first phase. Long before aligning with The Chronological Order, a younger looking Dominator sits with an infectious smile that has not faded since the day’s first light.
At the time, a war was being waged between the former longstanding owner, one Jonathyn Brown, and the current owner, the veteran known as “FuZz,” who came to power through nefarious means. Seeing this as a suitable excuse to inject himself into the equation and allowing himself to stand in the crossfire of their war of words, Dominator attempted to convince the two squabbling owners to grant him the rights and duties of the position of General Manager for the final Pay-Per-View of their year, the show where one solitary owner would be decided as all decision are made in wrestling; in the ring.
The show? The aptly titled ’X-Mas X-Treme,’ which would take place on Christmas Day, 2011.
Yes, the XWF were performing on Christmas Day long before any of the other major wrestling promotions were doing it.
Though Jonathyn and FuZz had voiced their grievances, the Board of Directors had greenlighted the proposal. Back then, Dominic’s curriculum vitae spoke for itself. He too had been a revered member of their roster for many years, inclusive of two separate tenures as the company’s commissioner. That was not to say that it had all been smooth sailing. Yet to mentally mature at this stage in his career, he mistakenly believed that the power that went straight to his head was rightfully his to abuse. Because of his misdemeanors, Dominic had been removed from power amidst a conspiracy formulated by Brown himself and Shane Carver, the current owner in the modern day.
They should have known better. After all, leopards never change their spots.
As such, Dominic had planted the seeds for his plan, the fruits he would seek to harvest by announcing he would act as the Special Referee between reigning Champion RJ Palmer and Number One Contender Jose Chavez, who had won the annual ‘Lord Of The Ring’ battle royal to claim such a position. As the match progressed, however, it became almost immediately apparent that the newly appointed official had little intention on enforcing fairness across this contest. A series of slow pinfall counts and physical altercations with both combatants were stirred in a cauldron to producing bubbling tension.
So irritated had RJ Palmer become with the referee’s actions that he sought to take down his opponent using the most controversial means he could think of at that given moment. With his World Championship in his hands, he looked to level his opponent, who, applicably, had been arguing with the official. Chavez hits a low blow to the referee, frustrated beyond logic, yet he is still able to evade the oncoming title belt aimed directly at his head. He ducks down, the gold impacts against the referee’s cranium instead. Dominator thuds to the mat, dazed and confused.
This, according to Dominator himself, gave him a reasonable excuse to carry out his plan.
As he comes to, Palmer is laying down on the canvas, staring dizzily at the ceiling. Chavez, a cruiserweight in comparison to the larger Palmer, is suitably positions on the top rope. He dazzles the fans with a Double Rotation Moonsault, landing perfectly on top of Palmer. He instinctively hooks the leg. Looking at the World Championship next to him, a belt that he had once carried with great sovereignty, he scoops it up into his hand. Without hesitation, he dives to the mat and begins a referee’s count….
“One,”
“Two,”
“Thr…psyche!”
With that, he drives the gold into the back of Jose’s head. Every single person in attendance is appalled by Dominator’s behavior. With that, Dominator grabs RJ Palmer’s arm and hauls him up onto his feet. He is barely able to stand, staggering groggily as Dominator hands him the belt.
“Go on,” he beckons. “Hit him again. Finish the job.” He offers different variations of this encouragement. Uncertain to what is transpiring, RJ Palmer cannot let the chance pass him by. As Jose feebly tries to return to a vertical base, RJ is ready to strike the second that Chavez is in a suitable position.
He never even sees the Double Cross coming.
Hoisted onto the shoulders of the giant, he is thrown down into the mat face first. Dominator looks down contently at the carnage he has created, blocking the torrent of boos and insults from the fans. He summons the timekeeper, who brings him a microphone. He lifts it to his lips with a wicked smile.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he begins self-importantly, “may I please have you attention.” He smirks to himself for a brief moment before continuing, looking down at the fallen participants competing for the belt he has clutched in his hand. “As the general manager of X-Mas X-Treme, I feel that it the actions of RJ Palmer and Jose Chavez in this match is disrespectful to the fans and everyone in the back who have worked so hard to get to their respective positions within the company. Therefore, I declare that this match is null and void.” Immediately, those in attendance jeer and boo relentlessly. They had been looking forward to this contest for weeks. For Dominator to act so irrationally was not warranted. “Furthermore,” he adds, “as general manager, I have the power to strip RJ Palmer of the World Championship. And that’s precisely what I am doing!” Although Palmer is by no means the most popular or respected individual, it was his own determination that had made him earn the title. The fans recognise this, acting sympathetically towards his predicament but continue to voice their dissent towards the official. “Furthermore, I would like to present to you your NEW World Champion…” To a torrent of abusive slurs, he hoists the championship belt high above his head before he confirms their suspicions.
“…Dominator!”
Even Dominic himself seems stunned by his revelation. His original intention was simply to ruin the show, but awarding himself with the XWF World Championship was done merely on a whim. The realisation of what he has done simply sets in. With this one announcement, he had managed to ruin the show as he intended but also fuel his own ego at the same time.
“Neither of you morons deserve to be the faces of the company,” Dominator screams unaided by the microphone, clutching the XWF World Heavyweight Championship close to his chest like Smeagle clutching the One Ring.
Before his celebrations can properly begin, some cheesy theme music begins to play. A middle aged man with thinning hair but a widening gut steps into view. This man is Jonathyn Brown; while not the original owner of the federation, he is perhaps the most established and well revered for turning the XWF into what it was on this day.
“What the hell do you think you are doing!?” he screams angrily. Instantaneously, Dominator recognises the error in judgement in terms of his timing. Preceding this contest, Jonathyn had become the sole owner of the XWF. Not being a wrestler himself, he had a representative compete on his behalf against the aforementioned veteran FuZz. Obviously, his delegate won the match, and along with it the ownership for his boss. “You have purposefully hijacked this incredible Main Event and completely ruined this show! Dominator, you will NEVER be World Champion again. Do you know why?” He pauses for a moment. The tyrannical egomaniac holds both his hands out apologetically, begging Jonathyn not to do what he thinks, or rather knows he is going to do. “Because I am relieving you of your duties as General Manager for X-Mas X-Treme and, furthermore, I am hereby banning you for EVER competing in the XWF again!” Dominator looks in total disarray. “You are no longer welcome here. Get the hell out of my ring.” Jonathyn concludes. The fans vocally approve of this decision, yet Dominator refuses to let go of the World Championship. He does, however, vacate the ring, staring directly at Jonathyn.
He smirks with malicious intent. Jonathyn suddenly expresses worry. This time, it was he who had made an error in judgement. He was defenseless against a towering figure like Dominator.
Fortunately, there was a savior ready to fight for justice.
“Ascend To Defend!”
The battle cry of the company’s resident superhero rings out. The crowd erupts into cheers as their beloved defender of justice makes his traditional entrance. A spotlight shines on the scaffolding above the Tron where the aforementioned hero poses with his back to the ring, fists planted on his hips. He turns, flicking his cape behind him. He quickly disappears back behind the enormous screen, leaving Dominator somewhat bewildered.
This vigilante is known as Mighty Kid, a breakout star within the reformed company. He had barely turned eighteen years old at this point. So many people had dismissed him as a boy living a childhood fantasy that could never be fulfilled. Time and time again though, his critics had been silenced by his actions. A staple of his era, he had also held multiple championships during his time within the federation. And given the nature of his chosen profession, he could allow such tyranny to run rampant in the land which he sought to protect.
Within seconds, Mighty Kid appears through the main curtain at the top of the stage, running straight past Jonathyn, who looks somewhat relieved to see such enthusiasm from one of his employees. The superhero delivers a dropkick to Dominator’s chest. Caught by surprise, the future Zenith cannot block it. In spite of his size, a mere five foot, nine inches and less than two hundred pounds, he hits with so much force that it sends Dominator clean off his feet. He clatters alongside the stolen World Championship along the entrance ramp. With Mighty Kid keeping Dominator at bay, Jonathyn waves for another referee to enter the ring to officiate the remainder of the match.
“This match will continue as scheduled!” Jonathyn decrees to the fans in attendance, much to their satisfaction in the form of roaring cheers. “Security, get this maniac off of my show!” he booms once more, pointing his finger towards the grounded Dominator. Mighty Kid attempts to keep him pinned under one foot. No matter how much strength or confidence the hero exerted, it was no match for an angry beast such as the man who, at the time, referred to himself as a ‘Self Proclaimed God.’ However, to his credit, Mighty Kid is able to subdue Dominator long enough for a hoard of security guards to appear from all over the arena. Some run down the entrance ramp, others from the side and more from over the barricades. All in all, they are able to apprehend the felon. In spite of his thrashes, Dominator is escorted up the ramp and through to the backstage area. All the while, the action is continuing in the ring.
“After everything that I have done for this company, THIS is how you repay me?” Dominator roars as the security guards drag him through the corridors. “All you have ever done is hold me back. I can bring greatness to the XWF if I reigned as its king. I did a better job as Commissioner than anybody else you have ever hired and I’m the single greatest World Champion you’ve ever had on your roster. That belt deserves to stay with me and you know it.” His arrogance shines through. So deluded is he in his own sense of self grandeur that he believes it to be true; like a lie that has spiralled so far out of control it can only be accepted as truth in order to make it sound all the more convincing.
“Listen to yourself!” Jonathyn says condemningly. “Do you really believe your own hype that much?”
“I believe in the hype because I know I can make it happen,” Dominator grins, concocting a new strategy on the fly. “One way or another, I will get what I want.” With that, he delivers a head butt to the guard pinning his right arm down to his side. Feeling the pressure ease against his limb, he thrusts it back to elbow the guard directly in its range. In spite of their numbers, Dominic is able to free himself from grip. Punches and kicks fly in his direction, yet he fights on with newfound purpose to achieve his goals; to prove his point.
Jonathyn stands agog.
The determination on Dominic’s face is admirable; everything he would want to see from one of his employees, so long as it could be contained within a wrestling ring. It was Dominator’s own selfishness that had caused him to terminate his contract on the spot in the manner that he did. Bodies fly, some slam against walls, others smash through tables. Like a tornado ripping through a village, the carnage left in its wake is astonishing and inspirational of awe. Dominator lurches towards Jonathyn, arching himself downwards so that his face is directly in front of his former employer’s. “Do you want to try and stop me, Jonathyn?” he asks with a maniacal grin, all sense of logic and consideration lost to overflowing madness that blinds him from his senses. There is no response from the owner. The would-be tyrant retraces his steps back toward the stage area. He is welcomed back to the main arena by a chorus of boos.
Blissfully unaware of his presence, RJ Palmer counters a Cattle Mutilation-like submission move into a modified Gory Bomb of sorts. No sooner
than he hits the move, Dominator’s humungous hand is pressed against Palmer’s windpipe, his fingers clamp either side of his neck. He lifts RJ Palmer into the air with one arm, planting him back into the mat with a Chokeslam. No sooner than RJ Palmer’s head bounces off the mat, Dominator pounces on the challenger, Jose Chavez, again with his hand over his throat. He lifts him up and hits him with his second Chokeslam. Victorious, Dominator throws his arms into the air, signaling to the crowd exactly why his ‘stage name’ is so apt.
Before Dominator can react, he is spun around by a mystery assailant dressed in red and black. Sure enough, Mighty Kid has returned in a bid to save the day, jumping up and latching on to Dominator’s head and pulling him downwards, his face driven into his knees. This Codebreaker-like move is something that the superhero conveniently names the ‘Vicebreaker.’ With the gargantuan tyrant down, Mighty Kid beckons to the rafters above. A rope lowers towards the ring; one that is primarily used as his own means of escape from conflict. This time though, he has a different purpose in mind.
The superhero loops his cord around Dominic’s ankle before tightening the knot as tight as he can. With one hand, he tugs on the rope, signaling for whatever mystical force may be above to raise them from the ground. Sure enough, after Mighty Kid wraps his arms and fingers around the knot he had tied, the two begin to ascend into the air. The crowd is elated by their elevation. Dominator frantically thrashes once more to try and free himself before they are at too great a height, but is unable to do so. He relents momentarily, coming to the conclusion that trying to free himself at this stage would be more detrimental to him. He may as well lie in wait for events to unfold and take care of business at an ample opportunity.
The blood begins to rush to Dominator’s head. Mighty Kid, despite his small muscle mass, is able to keep the near four hundred pound monolith in his grasp, although he has to continually adjust his grip every so often. Beneath them, Jose Chavez has made the most of Dominator’s rampage, draping his arm over the reigning champion. The referee counts to three. The fans burst into rapturous cheers and applause for their new champion. Mighty Kid nods, satisfied that his duty has been fulfilled. His lapse in concentration is his own undoing as Dominator coils his body upwards. Like a snake with its tail wrapped around a tree branch, he strikes Mighty Kid in the chest as he attempts to grab hold of the rope, which is now slowly descending downwards.
Then… the inevitable occurs.
With his long hair trailing vertically above him, Dominic descends with the grace of a meteorite as his body displaces the air beneath him. He can hear Mighty Kid shout out, his strength sapped by holding such a considerable weight for an elongated period of time. Initially falling headfirst, he is somehow able to rotate his body so that he is near horizontal; his spine now facing the floor. Rather than seeing the canvas rapidly approach like an oncoming truck, he instead sees the lights and the rafters above him move further and further away.
In those few split seconds, the five stages of grief manifest in Dominator’s facial expressions. Disbelief and anger merge first, his change in position is the result of his bargaining with The Grim Reaper. Sadness then fills his eyes, before finally he closes his eyes and spreads his arms, accepting the fact that he must play with the cards that Fate had cruelly dealt him.
A nanosecond of searing pain surges through his body, penetrating his spine and bursting through his chest; but then it is gone. He feels nothing. It is as though his whole nervous system has shut itself down to make himself impervious to the trauma.
The only component of his body that he knows to be functional is his heart, yet he could not move. It was difficult to tell if he had survived such a calamity. If this was life, he was paralysed. If he was dead, this must be limbo.
His whole body feels weightless; as if there is no consistency to the tissue and bone that comprise his frame. He tries to draw breath, but he merely gawps meekly. It is as if he is floating aimlessly in deep space. Though he tries to open his eyes, he only sees specks of light dotted around otherworldly darkness. For a brief moment, flashes hover around his eyes; perhaps the silhouettes of men and women? Of all his failing senses, it is that of hearing that has the most functionality; though all they receive are a cacophony of echoing screams emanating from the stands.
Slowly, things start to go black. Though not a religious man, he prays for a white light to grant him the liberty of stepping into the afterlife.
It does not come.
Time itself has ground to a halt.
