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 Posted: Tue Jun 03, 2014 11:53 am
 Before the next match could begin the lights in the arena dimmed, and turned deep crimson. A simple piano rhythm began to play over the PA system causing the audience to explode into cheers. Blood began to play, and blood began to dribble down the front of the titantron, and along the decorative walls around it. The audience was worked up into a frenzy with the show they'd been getting all night, now they were excited to see the Hardcore Connoisseur make his appearance. As the song reach it's first chorus the blood that was oozing down the walls exploded out, spraying the audience nearest the stage with a mist of crimson life. The audience was beginning to learn, and many of them had brought umbrellas with them protecting themselves from the arterial spray.
While the blood was still settling, Blackjack emerged onto the stage. Dressed to the nines in his full, crisp suit. He walked with his signature cane in one hand, and a fresh stogie in the other. Blackjack's bowler had was drawn low over his brow, hiding his eyes from the entire audience. He lifted the stogie, and the bright embers from the tip lit up his face, the light contrasting sharply with the deep scar that ran down his right cheek. He exhaled a ring of smoke and flicked the cigar into the audience. At the second chorus Blackjack strolled down the ramp walking towards the ring with a swagger that few could mimic without looking awkward and foolish.
He stopped to grab a microphone before he entered the ring, and then rolled in under the bottom rope. He rose, and held his cane in the crook of his elbow as he straightened his suit with a single jerking motion, tilting his hat back down before he continued. Blackjack waited for a moment while the audience were still cheering. At Spring in the Ring, Blackjack had delivered yet another hyper violent match, and even though it ended in a no contest, the fans had loved it. The smirk that had previously adorned Blackjack face faded to a grimace and he finally held the microphone up to his mouth. "Would you all shut the ******** hell up!" His voice resonated throughout the arena, and a dull silence settled, only a few overly boisterous fans remained now to shout boos at the demand.
His smile returned, and he spoke; "That's better. Now before I continue I need to address this because it's time for this to end. You insufferable, inbred, idiotic, retards constantly cheer for me like I'm some sort of champion. Every where I go, in all of my matches you act like I'm some sort of hardcore hero, you love what I do, and act like I do it for you.
I don't give a flying ******** about any one of you. You're background noise, you're rubes that throw money at me because I make people bleed for you, and that's all you're good for is your money. In the grand scheme of life each of you is worthless, only your money is of value; what little money you pathetic dropouts have. Your friends don't like you, your kids don't like you, hell even your own spouses don't like you. Everyone's waiting for you to die, preferably soon, simply so that they can forget you and keep your cash.
You will all be forgotten, and your meager minimum wage salaries will be the only legacy any of you morons leave behind. I don't come out here and carve up my victims for your pleasure. Hell, I don't even do it for your money, I'd do it for free if I had too. I do what I do, because I love what I do, the money I get, your adoration; that's just icing on the cake, and I ******** hate icing."
By the time Blackjack had finished with his rant, not a single person in the audience, not even the members wearing Security vests were cheering for him, the whole arena was filled with jeers of anger and frustration. Blackjack just started laughing, a cruel, mirthless, almost psychotic laugh.
"I can play you idiots like a philharmonic plays a symphony. But now that I have this out of the way I can say what I bothered to come here to say.
For the last two shows my matches have been called early, declared no contests because in both cases my opponents were too injured to continue. Well I'm telling this to management; it won't happen again. If my victim becomes too injured, and any official, or any employee of this promotion attempts to end my playtime early. I'm going to go ballistic, I'm going to keep going, and going, and I will put my plaything out of commission; and if that's not enough of a message, I'll let their families join them. Now before you pinheads in management decide to get hissy at me; I'd like you to remember, my contract is likely the only thing between me and yours.
So to all you disciples of justice, and honor; those of you who fancy yourself my peers in violence, you just remember. It's better to take your beating and lose, than to take your beating and lose your career. Any of you have a problem with that, I'm not hard to find. Just call the blood bank first, cause when I'm done with you; you're gonna need a couple pints." Blackjack finished his empassioned rant and turned. The audience was jeering and booing, and he only smiled at it in response. He stopped just before he stepped out of the ring and lifted the mic once more. "I'm Blackjack, and I'm the most dangerous man in BBW!" Then he launched the microphone at the face of the nearest fan, it struck him in the nose with an audible Pop and crackled over the PA as both mic and man hit the floor.
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Posted: Tue Jun 03, 2014 6:34 pm
On a long and lonesome highway east of Omaha
You can listen to the engines, moanin' out it's one old song
You can think about the woman, or the girl you knew the night before
But your thoughts will soon be wandering the way they always do
When you're riding sixteen hours and there's nothing much to do
You don't feel much like ridin', you just wish the trip was through
Metallica's "Turn The Page" kicks in as Blackjack was heading up the ramp following his line in the sand drawn against the fans. This, of course, wasn't going to make the fans any happier about things. Stepping out from the back with his BBW Championship slung over his shoulder and a broken smile came Hiro Shin-Mozas. He was dressed to compete, even though it was known that he wasn't set to wrestle tonight. A microphone in hand, Hiro meets up with Blackjack on the ramp, the two men stopping to share a handshake and a greeting off microphone. Hiro keeps Blackjack from leaving right away though, as the two converge on the stage for all to see. "Hey, Blackjack. Good to see you tonight. Spring in the Ring was quite a night, eh? I retained my BBW Championship against that god awful try-hard, Damon Pierce, and you...well...You went and made another wrestler unable to compete. See, crowd, Blackjack is the perfect example of a man who can use his hatred and anger to his own advantage. This man will pick apart anyone, not for any of you...but because he gets paid for it, and he ******** LOVES IT. That's the only time you'll ever see a man like me or Blackjack express love. We love to hurt others, we love to bring out the hate. Well, I guess Blackjack also loves him some whores." Hiro gives Blackjack a quick nudge and laughs a little, Blackjack wiping a slight smirk from his face. "Anyway, I came out here tonight, because I wanted to talk to Blackjack, and all of you, about something. It's no surprise that we have a hate-hate relationship, crowd. I hate you all because you are worthless, pathetic, dimwitted idiots that come to wrestling events because you just cant help but love some ******** beating the crap out of one another for the money, and you hate me because I am light years ahead of you in ever possible way. Success, fame, fortune, everything. I stand here before you tonight still BBW Champion because Damon Pierce, like a lot of you, thought he was some big tough guy who could step into a ring and get the job done against a professional. Its one thing to be in first gear in a wrestling ring, and it's another to have idiotic fans that want to see you lose help you win every match you're in. Sadly, a guy like Damon doesn't have the ability to channel hatred, and use it like myself or Blackjack do. We're the only two wrestlers on this planet who can do such a thing, probably the only two PEOPLE. At least Andrew Styles and Cartwright are learning. They are learning how to possess hatred and use it to their advantage. They wont be like everyone else. They wont let the hatred cripple them, they will let it enable them to CRUSH." Hiro adjusts his belt on his shoulder, Blackjack nodding a little along with what the champion was saying. He paced around the stage a little, the fans being slightly shut up by Hiro right then. Maybe they finally realized...not giving him a reaction is the way to go. "You know, someone said something to me that really resonated with me. I wont say who...but he is a guy who at one point, really spoke to me as a person and wrestler. He said I wasn't the most hated man in wrestling...but I was the most hateful man, by far. That's extremely true. Hate BREEDS Hate. The hate I had for others...turned into hate for me. It'll started three years ago when Guy Cancer leaped off of a barricade and drove his knee into my already concussed head. That started a metamorphosis that has made me what I am today. The EMBODIMENT...of...HATRED....and YOUR BBW CHAMPION." Hiro lifts the belt up as the cameras zoom into his demented face, his teeth still stained with blood. He must not have been brushing them. He brought the belt down back onto his shoulder and then reached down to his boot...taking out the Butterfly Blade. "Blackjack...You've done a lot for me. You're the only person on this planet that my hateful self has even a shred of respect for. You taught me how to awaken the evil deep within me. If not for you, none of this would be possible. I would like to give you back your Butterfly Blade. It served me well....and Thank You. I will forever remain loyal." Hiro handed the blade over to Blackjack, and the Sanguine Invitational winner took it. Hiro cocked smirk before looking about the arena, gripping his title tightly, and turning around to exit to the back.
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Posted: Tue Jun 03, 2014 7:31 pm
As Hiro handed the blade back to its rightful owner, the fans' reactions seem to stir in the opposite direction. They weren't booing or gnashing their teeth at the pair anymore; they were beginning to let out cheers and sighs of relief. Because right as he was handing over the blade, the General Manager himself stepped out onto the stage without any indication, other than the audience in the room. When the BBW Champion would turn around, he'd be faced with the mountain of an authority figure, and perhaps would stun the man in his tracks. Regardless, Matt's eyes danced around the arena for a moment through his tinted aviators, a wide grin on his lips as he gave them all a wave. He seemed to temporarily ignore Hiro's presence.
"How ya doin', Little Rock? Enjoying our first televised event?" Matt prodded the crowd, getting the reaction he wanted. A light chuckled left his lips before his eyes trained in on the smaller man, the champion of his company. He shook his head for a moment as his mouth opened to speak again, "It's such a big night for BBW. We're introducing a new championship, we're moving onto national television... and yet, I feel disappointed. In our first show across the nation, the first show that people don't have to view in person or online... we're not getting to see our -beloved- World Champion compete tonight. It's a shame."
Matt paused to lock his gaze with Hiro, the smile quickly fading from his lips as he continued on, "It's a real shame, Hiro. It's a shame that you don't want to compete tonight, but it's more of a shame that I've had to watch you self-destruct for the past couple of months. I remember months before your match with Salem, you were filled with passion! Despite injuries, you went out in that ring every night and tried to put on the best match you could! Then, you hit Salem Croft below the belt once and... you slipped. Hard. And each show after, you've slipped even further. You got a belt around your waist, and you fell faster than -any- champion I've ever seen. Andrew Styles' descent was more graceful than yours. But... I was sure that even with this whole shift in perspective, you had the same passion for this industry. You don't though, do you? If you did, you would have a match tonight!"
The fans were chanting their usual chants, like "B-B-W" and "Hiro Sucks," all of which Matt heard. If Hiro went to speak, Matt would raise his hand to quickly cut the man off.
"I know, Hiro. You want to prove that you have that passion, right? You want to prove me wrong and rub it in my face? I hope so... because you -do- have a match tonight."
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Posted: Tue Jun 03, 2014 7:50 pm
Hiro's eyes squinted as Matt went on about how he could have had a match tonight, but Hiro decided not to. Hiro was indeed bringing the mic up to his mouth when he was quickly cut off before he could speak. Then, a bombshell was made. Hiro was gonna need to prove himself. He -did- have a match tonight. The Champion was angered, his blood boiling as he brought the microphone up to his mouth to unleash his hell hound bark. "Are you kidding me? I have given this company half of the blood in my body, and you want me to compete MORE? How much is it-"
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Posted: Tue Jun 03, 2014 8:11 pm
While Matt spoke to Hiro, scolding him like a dog that had just pissed on the new rug, Blackjack's face dropped into a mask of utter boredom. He turned and started to walk past Hiro's back, holding his prized silver butterfly knife in his hand. He was annoyed with how quickly the crowd returned to cheering now that their favorite manager had made his appearance, especially when he announced that Hiro would indeed be having a match tonight. At the moment, Blackjack flicked his wrist, and behind Hiro the silver blade flashed in the spotlight as he turned the weapon inside out, exposing the blade.
Hiro's response was mundane and predictable, he immediately started bitching that he'd bled enough. Before he could continue, Blackjack shouted at him from behind. "You haven't even begun to bleed!" Then without hesitation, the most dangerous man in BBW jammed the blade into Hiro's back. His aim was perfect; he'd planned this moment from the very beginning. The blade would sink into Hiro's right side, barely an inch from the spine. It's thin sharp edge would fit perfectly between Hiro's second and third rib, allowing it to puncture a deep gash through the back and front of Hiro's right lung. Then he did the unthinkable, Blackjack twisted the handle, lodging the blade into Hiro's ribs, and allowing Blackjack to snap the blade off inside the Champion's back.
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Posted: Tue Jun 03, 2014 8:23 pm
Hiro was again cut off...but not by Matt Shanahan's hand. He was cut off by a blade stabbing him right in the back. His mentor, stabbing him right in the back. Literally and Figuratively, stabbed in the back. Hiro looked to reach out for Matt to keep his balance, but before he could, the blade was snapped in his back! Hiro started to cough up blood from his insides, as well as from the sore throat he was developing from screaming. The BBW Champion COULDN'T BREATHE. He lay on the ground, his body pulsating as he continuously coughed up blood. Why was this happening? His vision was fading, the pain was easily too much. Doctors came rushing out, but Blackjack wouldn't allow them to attend to Hiro. The fans were in shock. There was near silence. They didnt want to see death tonight.
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Posted: Tue Jun 03, 2014 8:59 pm
Hiro teetered, and tottered before he ultimately collapsed backwards onto the cold steel of the stage. Blackjack barked out a wicked laugh and tossed the broken handle of the butterfly knife aside. He hopped over Hiro's form and bent down to look at the fallen champion as he coughed up globules of blood, gagging on his own vitality.
"You stupid, vapid, worthless moron!" Blackjack would grab Hiro with a thick fist full of his hair and would almost effortlessly drag him off the stage. Hiro's oozing blood from the serious laceration had already started to pool onstage, and now as Hiro was being drug down the ramp, a fresh trail of it would be left behind. "I didn't think it would work out so perfectly, but it did." He spoke with a feverish glee in his voice, "You plan, and scheme, and plot; but always inevitably something goes wrong. But not you, oh no, you're as retarded as these fans. You went right along with everything I told you, ate right out of the palm of my hand, all because you wanted a title more than breath itself." When he reached the apron, Blackjack looked back at the bloody red carpet he'd made for the official who would now have to come out and begin the contractual match. Then he aimed a hard kick with the sharp point of his perfectly polished Oxford, right for the side of Hiro's wounded ribcage.
"Well what about now you stupid ********, which do you want now. Your title? Or the air you cant seem to suck in anymore?" Blackjack whole personality had seemed to shift. Where as before he was calm, collected, and most of all cold. Now, Blackjack seemed manic, he was taking delight in the serious trauma he'd just caused to Hiro. He was gleefully prancing about the Champion, mocking him. He started pulling Hiro up to bodily shove him into the ring, speaking in a simpering voice as he did. "Hatred is the key, you have to hate everything, make them hate you, and feed off of it. Know that by forcing them to hate you, you control them. You ate that s**t up, and you ran with it so well. You honestly thought all that effort was helping you."
Blackjack laughed heartily as he looked up to see the official, sent by Matt, running down next to the tail of Hiro's blood. Blackjack's contract was for any title, on any date; and months ago when he signed it, he'd predicted this exact date to take the BBW Championship for himself. The official slid into the ring, cautious to avoid Hiro's blood, and signaled for the match to start. The bell rang, and Blackjack circled around Hiro once, twice, and a third time. "I don't hate you Hiro, I don't hate them, hatred is a waste of emotion. It saps your strength, and leaves you blind to the knife pressed against your back."
Blackjack dropped to his knee, slamming the joint onto Hiro's chest. Crouched over the soon to be former Champion, Blackjack would reach out to clasp Hiro's throat in his tight grip and squeeze choking him even more while simultaneously pinning him in an unorthodox cover. He used his grip to hold Hiro's face still so that he could look the Champion in the eyes while the official started the count.
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Posted: Tue Jun 03, 2014 9:24 pm
Hiro body hurt more and more as he was dragged down the ramp. He was slowly passing out. His body could take no more. He lost too much blood, he couldnt breathe. He passed out. He was sent into the ring, unmoving. The fans were still quiet. The ref got down to the ring, avoiding the bloody trail. He enter the ring and rang the bell. Blackjack pinned Hiro. The Number One.... The Number Two.... ....and The Number Three. The fans didnt know how to truly react as the doctors and security came flooding to the ring, the ref lifting up Blackjack's arm and signifying him the new BBW Champion. All Hiro worked for, the pain he had put himself through, everything...for nothing. He was no longer champion, and he was probably going to die.
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Posted: Tue Jun 03, 2014 10:00 pm
The General Manager stood on the ramp with a rather disgusted look on his face. It was quite clear that he did not approve of any of this, but he wasn't in a position to contradict Blackjack's Sanguine Invitational prize contract.
However, he was in a position to handle it after the match.
Matt's head turned to the curtain, pulling the curtain back and shouting something towards the backstage area. Where people expected even more medics, a handful of policemen came running out of the back instead. They were ready to take the new BBW Champion to the county jail for his actions on this one.
Before they could even get down to the ring to drag Blackjack off, Matt disappeared behind the curtain. He knew there was going to be some explaining to do.
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Posted: Tue Jun 03, 2014 10:44 pm
As the cops took off down the ramp, doctors continued to try and fix up Hiro, loading him onto a stretcher and trying to patch up his bleeding. The fans were scared, hardcore fans stunned, some sickened. Hiro was completely unresponsive. The former BBW Champion was nearing death. This was transcending EVERYTHING these fans knew. To them, this wasn't a part of the show! This was Blackjack attempting to MURDER Hiro in cold blood! The doctors began getting the stretcher up the ramp, trying to stabilize the hateful man. The terrible life Hiro lived finally caught up to him tonight. The hate was one day going to kill him, and he knew it...would tonight be that night? The night where it all just...ended?
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Posted: Wed Jun 04, 2014 7:00 am
The medics were carting Hiro away, and while they couldn't get him to respond; it took only a small amount of pressure to staunch the bleeding from his stab wound. The police were running down the ramp at the same time, clearly intending to arrest Blackjack. The bell had rung, announcing him the winner of this match; and the horrified crowd could do nothing but look on in shock. Blackjack jerked his hand from the official's and signaled for them to hand over his BBW Championship. As they did he wiped his hands down on his now bloody suit jacket and straightened it out, allowing him to fasten the belt around his waist. When the cops reached the apron, Blackjack knelt down and dipped two fingers into the pool of blood that Hiro had left behind. He drew a circle within a circle on his forehead and looked directly into the nearest camera, "I am the BBW Champion! I am the most dangerous man in wrestling! And if any of you morons back there want my belt; you'll know where to find me." Then he drew a new knife from his jacket pocket and flicked it open, "I've got plenty more where these came from." Then two of the cops grabbed him from behind and bodily slammed him to the ground. Blackjack didn't give them any resistance; he just stared into the camera with an intense gaze as his arms were handcuffed behind his back. The cops started frisking him, and started pulling weapons off of him, three more knives, two pair of brass knuckles, an impact baton, a tazer, and even a can of military grade mace all formed a small pile next to the BBW Champion. Once the cops were reasonably sure he was disarmed they hoisted him up and began escorting them out of the ring, up the ramp, and out through the staging area. The audience in the Verizon arena sat in stunned silence, the audience across the nation joined them. In one night, they'd seen a BBW Champion stabbed quite literally in the back, and another BBW Champion arrested for it.
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