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-Enter
the Stinger- -Title: Final Hours- It was still very early in the morning... about 1 or 2 AM, Stinger would have judged... and it was chilly out. Not so much because of the temperature itself, but because of the wind which tended to blow a fair deal stronger up on the roof of a skyscraper. Wind chill could turn even the hottest days into something resembling a winter night. And on top of a skyscraper 320 feet above the ground, that got a fair bit worse. And the fact that Stinger wasn't wearing anything over his upper body made it even worse. Have you ever been on a waterslide and had to climb a high tower to get to it? Remember the freezing feeling you got every step of the way up? Multiply that by about six or eight times and you're somewhat close to what Steve Jason was feeling. If Stinger wasn't wearing a shirt, then the question obviously was, what was he wearing? And why, in his right mind, wouldn't he be wearing a shirt while standing atop a skyscraper at night with the wind blowing in a frenzy? The answer to the last question was directly related to what he was wearing. Steve Jason was standing at the edge of the flat skyscraper roof, resting his fists on the raised concrete ledge as he stared out over the bright lights and seeming harmony of the city below. He was wearing a pair of black elbow guards over his elbows, red wristguards over his thick wrists, blue padded gloves over his hands... hands that, under normal circumstances, were harmless and the useful tools for day-to-day activity that they were on every human being, but, on every Wednesday night... and this Sunday... would crumple into devastating blocks of bone and muscle that were more than capable of cracking the thick jaw of any opponent straight into a bone break. Of course, Stinger tried not to do that, but he knew he was certainly capable of doing it. He was also wearing his solid, glossy black lace-up boots, and his blue boardshorts with the red "STINGER" on the back. In short, Steve Jason was in the equivalent of Mycenaean Dendra armor, a knight's splint mail and a Roman legionnaire's... well, whatever the hell they used for armor. He was geared up for combat, chafing at the bit and ready to march into the biggest battle of his life. In the most stereotypical sense, the biggest battle of someone's life normally involved charging into a war, guns blazing, swords swinging in deadly arcs and beginning a life-or-death struggle against the opposing force. In the more common sense, it was a struggle against life's adversities, overcoming alcoholism, giving up smoking or breaking shyness. It was a struggle for a human being to break through life's problems and find peace and happiness. Stinger's battle was somewhere in the middle of those extremes. And so he had come up to the roof of one of the larger skyscrapers to consider just what he was going to be walking into come Rage In The Cage. He could have tried to do it in his apartment, of course, but Dougy and Tim had somehow managed to wrangle satellite transmission of the Australian Football League's Grand Final, the Collingwood Magpies versus the Brisbane Lions. Somehow Stinger knew that sitting in a room while Dougy and Tim yelled things at the TV, mainly involving 'Sucked in, Rocca!', 'Go Brisbane' and 'Kill those Melbourne bastards who think their city's better than ours' while stuffing meat pies in their faces and drinking beer wouldn't allow him to concentrate on the battle at hand. Whether Stinger liked it or not, there was room for only one great battle in his mind... and Steve Jason, Bigg Rigg, Sully Burden and Superballs versus Sewaside, Chris Cage, T Money and Sean Manning, UNIVERSAL TITLE on the line seemed just a little more important to Stinger than the AFL 2003 Premiership. Besides, he could watch the reruns after he became Universal Champion. Virtually all the talk had been spoken now, and now it was a matter of walking the walk. Sully, as always, had remained somewhat quiet on the issue, but Stinger was confident that he was dependable and he would be bringing it to the CCWF like he always could. Superballs, of course, needed no justification. The man was seven foot three, and he was somewhere near 330 pounds. Granted, he hung around with Bigg Rigg, but that made no exception. Superballs was ready. Rigg was certainly ready, even if he wasn't sure which side he was actually on. Stinger had to concede that while Rigg and Stinger were on the same side, and with Sully and Superballs thrown into the mix, they would be a train of absolute devastation on the CCWF. T Money and Sewaside had been the main voices for Team CCWF, and most of their antagonism was directed at backing up their own wrestling skills. The fact remained, however, that until Sewaside proved otherwise, he was no match for Stinger. Stinger recalled the first ever matchup between himself and Sewaside with a fair deal of enthusiasm. It was not, of course, for the CCWF title. That was more of a second matchup. The first fight between Sewaside and Stinger... and between Stinger and Bigg Rigg, for that matter... took place on a long-ago CCWF Masters of the Ring. It was a matchup which nobody would ever forget. A six-man tag match. On one end, the then-CCWF Champion and now friend of Stinger, Maverick, with XWF great The Brand and a cocky punk named Bigg Rigg. On the other end, there were the fan favorites... Roller, an old friend of Stinger's. Sewaside, who then at least had half a grain of respect for someone other than himself... or so everyone thought, anyway. And finally, the greatest CCWF North American Champion the world had ever seen... Steve Jason. It was a back-and-forth fight from the start. Stinger flew up against Maverick, against The Brand and against Rigg, throwing lefts and rights and suplexes and DDTs like no tomorrow. Rigg lasted about five seconds, if that, before Stinger had him on the ground and in an STF, screaming in agony. Even two long years ago, Stinger could outwrestle Bigg Rigg. And then, in absolute fear and panic, Rigg attacked his own teammates in order to bring the match to a halt. It was the only way he could escape the inevitable Pressure Drop that would have compressed his cranium and left him prime for the pinning of his life. Brawls broke out, and then Sewaside decided to make his spring out of his current lower-card state. For, as all knew, in the CCWF, Sewaside was nothing more than a former Extreme Bloodspilling Champion... a title that was eclipsed by the Raw Brutality title and phased out because of how ridiculous and pointless the belt actually was... and a Triple Tag Champion, of course... but then again, he had SCSA and Kid Money do most of the work. To cut a long story short, Sewaside, mad with jealousy of Roller, the greatest CCWF Intercontinental Champion of all time, went for him. And that was when Stinger almost decapitated Sewaside with a chair. Stinger remembered the resounding clang of steel slamming skin and bone with a degree of satisfaction. He could remember the clinky, exploding sound as Sewaside's head was snapped back almost off his own neck, and he could remember the satisfying thud Sewaside made as he collapsed unconscious on the floor. A thud that Stinger was to remember many times as, by way of snapping his head back with uppercuts, by throwing him to the ground with kicks, by slamming him with suplexes and by levelling him with his own finisher, Stinger knocked Sewaside down over the next year again... and again... and again... and so it went. It had been about a year and a half since Stinger had last knocked Sewaside into orbit, and ever since, Sewaside had made his pointless, whining excuses. Upon the majority were, "I've done this while you've just done that", "Why do you have your friends following you everywhere", "It's been a year", and various other pointless, whining excuses. Sewaside was the Untouchable, and he was the Darkman, but he was also the Crybaby. This time around, Stinger resolved as he licked his lips with the anticipation of the fight, Sewaside would be lucky if he could even move his crushed jaw to utter any whimpers of complaint. And as for T Money... well, Stinger didn't even want to get started on what he would do to him. T Money had grown up uttering the various epithets of Harlem, going on about his gangsta ways. Stinger affirmed that no hood anywhere on this planet would have prepared T Money for what he was stepping into. "No hoods, no cars, no Gs and no homies are going to save you, T Money. You're a gangsta, sure... but I make no pretenses. I am not a thug, I'm not a gangsta, I'm not a homie, I'm not a bikie, and I'm not in the mafia. Hell, about the only thing you could call me is a surfie. But rest assured... I'm still more dangerous than all of those stereotypes put together, and I'm going to hurt you. I could snap your limbs in a Vindicator or a Sharpshooter. I could bring the Pressure Drop out of retirement and land you with a brain hemorrhage. I could hit you with a Shooting Star Press off the top of the cage. Hell, I could suplex you off the top of the cage. Or I could give you the S3 and break you into pieces. You have no idea what I'm going to do to you, but one thing's for sure... you can't escape it." Now he was talking to nobody. That was a good sign, because Stinger always did that when really gearing up for a match. However, the time had finally come to approach the last major threat. A man knew it was sad when the biggest threat to his health and well-being happened to be a man who he was supposed to be co-operating with... a man who was on his own team. "Bigg Rigg" John Gambino. He had already stated an intention to put Stinger out for good... and he was more focused on attacking his own teammate than the CCWF forces. That was what had Stinger worried. If things were going the way they appeared to be, it would mean that Stinger, Superballs and Sully would have to fight the CCWF and Bigg Rigg on their own. But then again, Superballs had his own alliance with Rigg, so it was altogether possible that Stinger and Sully would have to fight the entire CCWF, plus Rigg and Superballs by themselves. However, it was something Stinger had prepared himself for, and if he had fight by himself... then he would do it. There was no question about that. However, it seemed that a conflict between Rigg and Stinger was inevitable. Bigg Rigg had constantly swerved Stinger's defeats over Rigg... but despite the fact that KoRe was pinned by Stinger in one of their matches, Stinger had won, while Rigg had lost. Therefore, one could easily conclude that Rigg was beaten. As for Maverick's involvement... well, Rigg and KoRe were both in the Titan Confederacy, weren't they? Rigg had a teammate, and so did Stinger. It just proved, once again, that... well... TWC... feared... New Wave. However, Stinger concluded with a bleak smile, there was one victory that Bigg Rigg could not swerve, no matter how hard he tried. Stinger had been mentioning the victory all week, but now it was time to envision it. It was time to envision... the battle of Bad Medicine. FLASHBACK: BAD MEDICINE Stinger stood behind the entrance curtain to Bad Medicine, electricity surging through his veins as if his heart had been removed and replaced ith a nuclear reactor. Today was the day he had waited for. Today was the day that "Bigg Rigg" John Gambino, the man of cowardly backstageassaults and brass knuckles, would face Steve Jason in the one place that counted... the one place that anyone cared about... the RING. Stinger had waited for this day for weeks now. Ever since Rigg had bound Stinger and attacked him in the only way he ever could... with a pair of brass knucks... and cost him the Universal title, Stinger had been like a crazed animal, firey fury surging under his skin. He was possessed, crazed, even, with the urge to rip Bigg Rigg's skin apart, to make him bleed, to make him scream, to make him cry, to make him beg for forgiveness. And now, their battle was going to be settled once and for all. He was going to compensate for his failure to take the Universal title shot by spattering the ring and the arena with the blood of the one man who was responsible. Within the next half hour, the "Angry Italian" became the "Shredded Italian". The ring of barbed wire was unforgiving, and so was Stinger. From now until the end of days, every time Rigg raised his ugly head, he vowed that he would raze it straight down, each time more efficiently than the last. And now it was time. He could tell already by the song that Bigg Rigg would hear and fear for the rest of his life... or until Stinger changed songs, anyway. He burst out the curtain, his face a stony mask as the song boomed around the arena, accompanied by the thunderous cheers of the crowd. Back
off, we'll take you on He slipped under the barbed wire ropes, careful not to cut himself before the match even begun, then crouched into a fighting position, every muscle in his body taut and ready to coil into action, as he awaited the arrival of Bigg Rigg. Fifteen minutes later, the white canvas of the ring was now coated with the crimson red blood of both men, and both men were in a bad way. Stinger was lacerated from just about every part of his body, thick red blood dripping from his various wounds. He was even starting to feel woozy from the blood loss, and the arena around him was spinning and jiggling like Jell-O. Then Stinger, who had been down on the ground, reached for the pool of strength in his stomach and sprung up to his feet, struggling to keep his balance as his blue-gray eyes strained to focus themselves. When they finally did focus, he could make out the bloody, lumbering form of Bigg Rigg flying at him like a road train at 100 an hour. The man was coming at him full speed, the rage evident in his body. How appropriate, since he was about to hit the rage. Stinger's sensed began screaming warning sirens at him, and then... briefly... the scene around him began to waver. All of a sudden, he was standing at Rage In A Cage. Sewaside, T Money, Chris Cage and Sean Manning were lying completely beaten around him, and Sully Burden and Superballs were nowhere to be seen. The unforgiving steel cage and its titanic walls rose around him. The stage was different, the scene was different, but there was one thing that remained the same. Bigg Rigg was still going to hit the Rage. Stinger bit down, an image of Bigg Rigg holding the Universal title while stamping on Stinger's body appearing in his head. Then he imagined Rigg laughing uncontrollably while stamping a framed picture of Felicia... and Talia... and Dougy... and Tim. Everyone close to him. Then something snapped, his strength flared up, and he suddenly leaped into the air, curving his body in an arc to sail over the Rage like an old-day matador would somersault over a bull. If this was still a Bad Medicine flashback, it would have been the point where Rigg ran into the barbed wire, trussing himself up and slicing himself to shreds. Instead, he ran cranium-first into the cage wall, shaking the entire cage from the impact. Stinger clenched his teeth, then realised that there was barbed wire there... a large, razor-sharp carpet of it. Stinger took the advantage, whipping Rigg into the turnbuckle and raising him straight up onto the turnbuckle. Then he lifted Rigg onto his back, raised his fist in the air and screamed something incomprehensible before leaping off the turnbuckle with Rigg on his back, turning in the air. The S3. Rigg could be heard screaming before Stinger drove him straight into the barbed wire. Blood flew, and Rigg seemed to have passed out. Then Stinger returned to the turnbuckle and leapt straight off towards the downed Sewaside, who, in Stinger's mind, was the only man left in the match. He flipped in the air, performing a perfect Shooting Star Press, then crashed down on him. What was left of Stinger's strength rushed out of him, and he made the pin. 1... 2... 3! BACK TO THE PRESENT "Whoa!" Stinger exclaimed breathlessly, leaning back to keep himself from falling over the ledge. Apparently his daydream... or night-dream... had resulted in him completely losing his balance, and he had come within inches of falling straight to his death. He laughed quietly as he flipped back onto his feet. "Oh no, mate. I'm not dying yet. Not before winning that Universal title and sending Team CCWF onto the streets, I won't." "Steve?" A tentative voice could be heard from behind Stinger. Seeing as he was already coiled like a spring and ready for action, Stinger spun around, his gloved fist coming from within inches of Steve Sayors' face. "Bad time?" he inquired. "No... not quite. I'm just ready to go, you know? Don't surprise me like that any time soon, Sayors, or I might end up inadvertantly knocking your teeth out. That's how ready to go I am." Sayors began to laugh heavily until he saw the straight, serious expression on Stinger's face. Then he coughed nervously, rather quickly changing the subject. "Anyway..." he said, "Steve... we all saw the nasty confrontation backstage between you and Bigg Rigg and we also saw what you did to Antonio Gambino. Why... why... did you do that?" "You mean when I came in to wish Balls luck, then finally got a little retribution for Rigg for his antagonism of me recently?" "No, we're talking about how you tipped Antonio Gambino's stretcher over." "That's what I mean, idiot." "Well?" Stinger turned his attention to Sayors, moving in closer and closer until he towered over the XWF interviewer. Then he locked his terrible steely blue-gray eyes with the nervous Sayors, who took a step back. Stinger barked a sharp warning to Sayors. "Don't be an idiot. You'll fall." "Why are you staring at me like that?" "So you can understand exactly what I'm about to say." He maintained his gaze on Sayors for several seconds, then spoke. "I did what I did to Antonio Gambino at Impact for more than one reason. First of all, yes, it was retribution. See, Rigg isn't the only one who values his family. I was most displeased with Rigg's attempts to humiliate me on television, and I especially didn't like the way he tried to humiliate my family. My mother and father... yes, they both live together, and are completely different people... phoned me up recently and weren't amused either. They told me to let it be, of course, but I decided that if he was going to screw with my family... then I might as well screw with his. Rigg, consider Antonio's decimation a retribution. You mess with my family, I put yours in traction." "Well... that's one motive. What are the others?" "It's a well known fact that Antonio spends his time nosing around Bigg Rigg and minding the business of his bigger cousin. He'd been hiding in the quiet for some time, and maybe, just maybe, that's what he wanted us to believe. Maybe he secretly intended on giving his cousin the ultimate leg-up by trying to put me out at Rage In The Cage. I could have been wrong, but when so much is at stake, you can't take that risk. The fact remains, Rigg is going into that match... and if he's going to face me, he's going to face me alone." "Any more?" "One more. What I began tonight was the beginning of the eradication of the Gambino family from the face of the X-Treme Wrestling Federation. Let it be a warning, Rigg. Your cousin's gone... and if you step into a position where you even try to stop me from becoming the Universal Champion... then you'll soon be gone as well. You took my chance to become Universal Champion away once, and I repaid you by unhinging your brain, spilling your blood, lacerating your skin and, basically leaving you begging for mercy. Believe it or not, Rigg, I was lenient. It was your first assault, and it may have been an honest mistake, so I merely decided to give you a slap on the wrist. But since you showed your obvious fear of me by attempting to end my career, I know now that any attempt you throw to end my career or steal my Universal title... and rest assured, Rigg, it is mine... will be repaid with a terrible vengeance that will be ten times... a hundred times... more devastating than anything I have ever inflicted on you before. Rigg, simply put, if you cross me... your life is over." Stinger said the last with a deadly finality to it as he set his jaw and focused his eyes, which contained the full force of his wrath, to stare intently into the camera. He didn't put on a particular facial expression, because he honestly didn't need it. He meant every word this time. If Rigg crossed him... then Stinger would do his utmost to not only destroy Rigg, but end his career. "Well, it's obvious that your feud with Rigg is very likely to culminate at Rage In The Cage, but at the same time, you have two more foes. T Money and Sewaside." "Oh yeah. T Money and Sewaside. I've seen their recent antics. Honest to God, it's pathetic. Sewaside has never been skilled on the mic... something to do with his obvious lack of intelligence... I dunno, maybe he sniffed some coke too far up his nose and it burned out his frontal lobes or something... but when he hunts out someone with barely any resemblance to me, makes fun of my country and uses the same old tired out, 'mate is gay... huh huh huh... word...' crap, you can't help but think he's running out of ideas. Decent ones, anyway. He still seems to have a great deal of crap creative insults running through his head, as we could no doubt tell from his little counter-rap." "Yeah... apparently he ripped that in counter to your own." "Somewhat of a pathetic counter, if you ask me. He almost had his point across to me for a few seconds... then he started that stupid spelling out words crap and he lost the point completely. I seem to remember the words 'shit and 'hoez' being thrown around, too. Other than that... none of that stuff really made sense to me. But I tell you what. Sewaside wants a freestyle war, then he's got a freestyle war. Might as well beat him at the only game he knows. Only difference between me and him is that while he throws that thug crap around, I get my point across without that." "Wait! What about T..." "I'll cut him down in a second, Sayors. It's time to lay Sewaside to rest first." With that, Stinger grabbed the microphone, raised it and, clearing his throat, began to formulate a freestyle right on the spot. At
Rage In A Cage, the battle flags are raised He chuckled quietly, turning to Sayors, "I think that answers just about everything Sewaside has to say." "Excellent. Now... T Money. He's probably an even bigger antagonist against you than Sewaside is. It appear he's taken issue with you because... well... actually, nobody knows." "It's simple, Sayors. T Money is jealous of the Stinger. See, I'm one of the cornerstones of the XWF. I'm front-page material, I'm the man everyone talks about, I'm a damn legend in the XWF. T Money, on the other hand, has nothing. At least Manning and Cage were DW Champions. I'm not even sure if T Money's done anything in DW. The fact remains, in the midst of Sewaside, Sean Manning, Chris Cage and the other CCWF invaders, T Money is the one name nobody honestly cares about. He's the invisible man. Thus, he has to make an enormous amount of noise and throw slurs at everyone possible just to gain a mention on XWF programming. I mean hell, at least Marcellus Torelli had credentials. All T Money has is a mouth, and even then it's so busy shooting out gibberish about how he's the Harlem Hellraiser, Hellrazor, whatever... and how he's the big, tough gangsta man. Well, T, son... wake up. We don't care. To every fan and every wrestler here, you're nothing more than one of those thirteen year old punks who go, put a hoodie on, weigh themselves down with gold jewellery, wear pants fifteen sizes too big for their dad, grab a BB gun and mouth off about how they're the dopest thugs this side of the skate park. That's all you are, little man. An attention-seeker who managed to blunder his way into the XWF. And after Sunday, you won't even be that. And with that said... it's time to counter-rap your little spiel. T
Money hails from Harlem's mean streets "Wow... you're really making all this up?" Sayors inquired before Stinger continued to freestyle straight over the top of him. So
CCWF, bring all the fight ya got "That's right. Sewaside, T Money, CCWF... I'm ready for you, and I'm more than focused on what I need to do. There's not a damn one of you out there who can stop me. T Money talks about my career ending at the hands of the CCWF. Dude, I was completely aware that I was risking my life when I came into this match. I know that if I make the slightest miscalculation, I'm as good as paralysed. But that's not going to happen now, and it's not going to happen at the hands of you 'tards... because I say it's not going to happen. And you, T Money, you cocky little arse-kisser, are the last man who will do it. I mean, we already see your attitude. 'Me and Sewaside this' 'Me and Sewaside that!'. Well, one thing is absolutely certain, T Money. You are Sewaside's shadow. He goes after me, so you go after me. He raps against me, so you rap against me. Well, T Money, since you seem to enjoy doing things together so much... I'm going to give you the opportunity of a lifetime. Before Rage In The Cage, you and Sewaside can do all the things together you want. Take a damn bath together, for all I care. But you may as well get in the spirit of doing things together, because you're both going to be levelled together... you're both going to take the S3 together... you're both going to have your XWF careers ended by me together... and who knows, maybe you can both go into business. I know Hollywood's probably dying for another pair of Homie-Gs to make a movie about. You two just might fit the bill. Who knows, maybe being beaten by me will be the greatest thing that ever happened to you. Or it could be the last. You decide. You decide." Stinger chuckled quietly, letting the smirk fall across his face one more time. "And now we come to final reckoning. XWF versus CCWF is almost upon us, and I guarantee I won't be failing as XWF's last... and only... hope. CCWF, guys, I suggest you get your applications sent out around town, I hope you apply to Social Security for your welfare payments, and I certainly hope you tell your roommates, wives, girlfriends, kids, whatever... that you're going to be spending a lot more time with them. Once you get out of the hospital and into the unemployment line, that is. Because I'm coming... I'm a man on a damn mission... and I cannot be stopped. I'll beat you all with a broken back, and I will go on to do what nobody... not you, not even Bigg Rigg... can prevent me from doing. I complete a promise I made to someone I loved very much some time ago. I rise to the top once more, I become the ultimate legend... I become the XWF Universal Champion, and I become the greatest XWF Universal Champion who ever lived. And if you're not down with that... well, as a certain stable and I used to say in your CCWF a long time ago... I got two words for ya... TOO BAD! It's over, guys. Look at that clock and study it well, because the countdown to your annihilation is ticking. And that..." Stinger tilted his head back, raising the microphone to his lips as he sucked in a deep breath that left him light headed. His lungs felt like they were going to burst, then he summoned the breath to burst explosively past his larynx and out his mouth in a scream that made Sayors jump. Even after Stinger's roar of defiance came out of his mouth, it echoed throughout the city sky and caused people in the buildings around to open their windows and ask what the hell the noise was. "IS
UNDENIABLE!!!" RP OUT |
