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 Posted: Sun Jul 16, 2023 10:49 pm
Breaking News! The video package being played just before the main event glitched and cut out, replaced with a large scrolling alert. A news anchor from Corydon Falls, Idaho was finishing her broadcast for the night. “ties say there is still no sign of the fugitive known by the moniker Blackjack. Blackjack, whose legal name is Malcolm Alexander, escaped from a supermax federal prison in Florence, Co. It is st…” The channel flicked to WDBG 32 in Cincinnati, OH, “ill unclear how he managed to escape, only that he had outside help. Images leaked by Alexander show a birthday cake with a steel file sticking out of it. We reached out to…” Flick! “...den’s staff has declined to comment.” Flick! “Blackjack has been added to the FBI’s most wanted list.”FLICK!!! Blackjack stood in the center of a worn ring, the mat covered in stains of various shades of reddish brown, rips, and threadbare patches. The ropes around the ring hung loosely, one turnbuckle had been bent at an odd angle. A single incandescent bulb hung over the ring leaving the rest of the room shrouded in darkness. It seemed as if Blackjack had been struggling in his fugitive state. He was wearing the same size too small suit, a long rip along the breast from where he’d ripped his pocket out exposed the stained, formerly white, dress shirt that appeared ready to burst a seam. “Do any of you morons think you’ll be able to find me if I don’t want to be found? I’m Blackjack, first name in everyone's book of fixers. You’re all too focused on me when you should be calling for the firing of Rosario. Especially since that little wanna be hero Dean ruined my first attempt.”
He lifted a bottle and drank a long pull from it, those with keen eyes would notice the brand’s label as Demon’ Spit, a vodka infused with the hottest peppers grown each season. Shuddering and holding back a cough as the burning liquor seared his throat.
“This part is for you... Dean. Are you proud of your accomplishment? After all making a phoney legend tap is all you've got since you couldn't even lock in the victory at King of the Canvas. Do you actually believe Rosario? Keep your eyes open because I’m going to show you just how much of a GOOF you are.”
Blackjack stepped to the side, revealing a figure sitting slumped in a steel chair behind him, hidden in his shadows thanks to the stark light overhead. The Number Three was motionless, sprawled out on the chair looking like he might slide out at any given moment. “Hey!” Blackjack shouted as he grabbed Three by the jaw. Blackjack tilted his head back, and started pouring the contents of the bottle down his throat and nose, waterboarding the demon of the ring with his own brand of vodka.
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Posted: Mon Jul 17, 2023 7:35 am
The burn of the entrenched Three's nostrils and tingled around the mouth of the captured man. The vapors repelling off his skin and making his breathe harder and harder to catch. The liquid slipping down his throat, stealing the space for oxygen as it kept coming. Droplets, streams and creeks of the liquid going up Three's face and landing in and around his eyes. Immediate burning matched with a warmth over took his face as the Chili infused Vodka showed its second side. A warmth develop into a burning rash as the capsaicin residue served it's purpose, delivering heat. To the man who called himself Three, In that moment that was the epitome of heat.
"Off Of Me!"
The Number Three looked to push the man off of him with an almost choke, aiming right for the upper chest as he himself would slide to the side, aiming to leave the perch Blackjack had put him on. The light bulb swung above them, the less then a pound. of weight looking like it could fall at any moment. It was decrepit, much like the ring, much like the state of Three in this moment.
"You should be scared!"
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Posted: Mon Jul 17, 2023 10:43 am
Blackjack cocked his head and nodded, " You're right, I should be scared. The Number Three was a terrifying man." Blackjack flicked the bottle upside down in his hand, a flourish of the fingers had it spinning until he held it like a club. "So tell me WHY IM NOT!" Blackjack exploded mid sentence, rage seeping through his usual calm accountinence. As he started shouting he cocked his arm back as if to strike at The imposter before him, but he was too far away. Blackjack had extraordinary hand-eye coordination, and when he swung the bottle he launched it for his victims forehead. Whether the bottle hit him or not, Blackjack charged forward to tackle the man before him, straddling his torso to lay in a barrage of thunderous fists.
"What is your name!" Blackjack's fury burned through as he shouted his question with each driving fist.
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Posted: Mon Jul 17, 2023 10:59 am
WHZZZ
The bottle hurled past the head of The Number Three. Crashing out of the ring onto the old and dirty concrete floor. It shattered in a brilliant display, layering the disgusting ground in an even thicker layer of garbage. Three was distracted by the deadly weapon that was just thrown as he felt the tackle connect, sending him to the worn canvas. His back on the ground while the felon was on top of him. Fists were thrown as fast as the questions were thrown as Three put his hands up to block. BlackJack was bigger than him, so taking a punch was not in question.
"The Number Three!"
He grunted out as looked to catch a fist to momentarily stop the man from punching. If it worked he would try to nail Blackjack right back in the face. He was known of having one of the strongest punches around, and that didn't change, even with allegations.
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Posted: Tue Jul 18, 2023 8:45 am
Blackjack was lost in his assault, shouting like a deranged lunatic. His punches were connecting, but mostly with arms blocking his true target, then the man who was pretending to be his mentor caught his fist. The Number Three was the only person who had ever caught and stopped Blackjack's fist. A look of stunned shock flashed in his mismatched eyes for just a moment before his resolve returned.
The Number Three's titanic punch clobbered into Blackjacks jaw and the larger man staggered back up to his feet, stepping back into the shadows at the edge of the decrepit ring. He was holding his jaw silently, contemplating what had just happened, plotting what to do next.
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Posted: Sat Jul 22, 2023 9:16 am
With a second now to breathe The Number Three rolled to his knees and up to his feet. He knew Blackjack was not going to stop. He didn't see the event, but he heard the exchange between him and Rosario and knew that Blackjack planned on brutalizing him. Hell he probably planned on murdering him. There was history between the names of Blackjack and The Number Three, but with the rage in the kidnappers mind there was no escaping the outcome the man wanted. He was going to have to fight back.
He looked around for a weapon, but nothing could be found. There was nothing but dust and stains as the once whole bottle was now shattered about 15 feet away on the ground. It looked like behind him was just a wall and the exit to the building was through Blackjack. He was going to have to fight out.
The Number Three charged at the man. He was looking to shove him down, but from an outsider it looked like a nasty Lariat. He wasn't trying to wrestle, he was trying to fight. Maybe the reputation of The Number Three's Lariat would cause the felon to back off, or maybe not.
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