Panic.
Chaos.
Bright Lights.
In a blur the CWF landscape shifted with seismic activity.
Anger.
Confusion.
Demonic Presences presenting a penitence, palpable with pain and persistence.
*POST CARNAGE MAIN EVENT, MINUTES AFTER DEMON HAS APPEARED*
Back in the underbelly of the arena, a door from one of the maintenance tunnels swings open to the service corridor with a clang, jolting the few employees and CWF staff into a state of alertness. For a moment, nothing. Then the CWF title came shooting out, making it’s own version of the Death Star II escape. Clamoring out next, falling over himself and fumbling to undo the tape from his hands, our spotlight starved specter spills onto the scene. Leaking internal oil from his nose and navigating with one good eye, Poltergeist falls face first into the nearest catering table. Sandwiches and drinks explode all over the area, doing nothing to cushion Geist’s meeting with the floor, one-on-one.
“DAMN!”
Geist pulls himself up clutching the wall, leaving a trail of blood behind his shaky ascent. Clearing the cobwebs in his head to formulate something resembling an idea, Poltergeist pushes off of the wall and falls back down to his knees, this time next to the title. He coughs up one blood-stained loogie for the ages and lets out a stifled grunt. Slowly, Geist slides the title another 15 feet down the hallway, scuffing up the side plates and leather in the process. Just another glimpse of what Geist values, and that obviously isn’t the CWF.
“RRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEDDDDDD!!!!!!”, He stands up and tares at the tape with his teeth on his left hand, right hand barely able to clutch the leg of the damaged table he rose from, “RRRREEEEEDDDDDD!!!! WHERE THE FUCK IS RED??!?!”
Poltergeist drags the table to the door he crashed though and props it against the handle, as an attempt to stop someone, or something, from following. He takes a second and manages to completely unwrap his left hand, throwing the tape down and cleaning his face off with the still taped right. The white tape now turning a deep red, Geist goes about hastily trying to find HIS World title. Taking a few rushed steps down the hall, some of the staff have now stopped doing anything but watch this train wreck unfold before them.
No train was scheduled. No tracks even exist in this area, but here we are watching the new World Champion hold in his vomit and have his right knee buckle every three steps. One of the building staff, obviously not aware that what was happening should be ignored and not fed into, started to make a move toward the disrespected title. CWF staff, seeing this, whisper warnings and start to slip out of the area, knowing that this was not the smartest move, any move, to make regarding this..this…being.
The mand bends down to pick the title up, thinking nothing more of it than an act of compassion to an individual who deserves nothing more than the contempt of his counterparts to say the least.
The man would not eat solid food for the next 7 months thanks to his helpful action.
Poltergeist stumbled forward again, catching his balance in a three-point stance and just in time to see the title, HIS title, being held by another man! Geist blasted himself forward the last 5 feet with all his willpower and drove the man into a mess of boxes, luggage cases, water bottle cases and chairs. Geist was the f only on up, but went back down under the weight of himself and drove his taped fist square into the mans jaw. A high pitched scream consumed the air, matched as Geist howls out from deep within his soul, wounded and dominating at the same time.
Right.
Left.
Right.
Left.
Right.
Left.
It just kept happening, and no one dared to stop it for fear they would be the new canvas for such violent art. Two different shades of red now streamed down Poltergeists face, dripping off the chin and dropping steadily like the blows being inflicted on the helpful soul, now very much helpless.
*Boom*
Something shifts the air and Geist hesitates for a second. He takes a slow, deep inhale though his nose and returns to raining fists down on what is now a broken man. Geist’s head is still looking up, one eye closed, the other swollen shut. “I made my choice,” he gurgles as he spits stale blood again.
*Boom*
The remaining people screaming for Geist to stop have started to back off. Everything falling silent. Time seems to slow.
*BOOM*
The maintenance door has been kicked clean off its hinges, and the table splinters further into worthlessness. Whatever Geist tried to stop didn’t work. It was here.
Geist slumps over, still on top of the man and yells, “I MADE MY CHOICE!” as he goes back to his masterpiece.
*POW*
Black.
Stars.
Static.
Burning.
Pain.
PAIN.
Geist is about 8 feet away from his masterpiece, lying on his side with a new pool of liquid under him. He checks himself, still spinning and seeing static instead of images. Make that two pools.
He opens his jaw, trying to make the ringing stop, only to feel one of his teeth fall out. Geist looks at the floor, spinning, and sees the white tooth in a pool of his own crimson liquid.
“RRRRRREEEEEEEEEDDDDDD!!!!”
A fist made of concrete makes direct contact again with the side of this now garish ghouls head, splitting the skin at the temple and ushering in a new channel of stars and static for Geist to tune into. More blood rushes from the new wound, but this also causes the adrenaline to start pumping again. Poltergeist rolls out of the way of what must be the boot of God himself and manages to rise onto a knee. Catering is a mess. The arena staff are furious about the door that now lays of no use on the floor. Geist takes inventory of his teeth and seems to be down one again, spitting it out to join the other, this time in defiance of his beating.
He makes eye contact with the animal that has managed to hunt him down.
This is no animal.
It’s an Uneven force of nature.
Poltergeist cracks his neck side to side, “You should have gone for the head.”
The Uneven takes two monstrous steps towards him, resting bitch face pronounced. “Das ist vut I did, Ja.”
Poltergeist stands up, clutching his head. He spots his title still laying on the ground, now swimming in a pool of red. “The title,” he motions “Give it to me.”
The Uneven starts walking towards our splattered spectral spacer and is unamused, “
Sagst du nur Filmzitate??”
Geist is slowly formulating another ‘plan’ as he begins to slide his feet back and brace himself against one of the equipment boxes. “What we have here….. is a failure….. to communicate”
Nobody expected the Spanish Inquisition, but The Uneven didn’t expect Geist to just lay down either. He was ready, and as Geist launched himself towards the title, Uneven delivered a precision knee strike to the abdomen, causing Geist to expel his pre-match meal onto the title and fall into the large pool of blood. Uneven frowned. That smell would take weeks to clear up. He sighed, grabbing a fistful of Poltergeists hair and brought him up to his feet, still towering over this so-called World Champion. Uneven glared right at Geist, deciding what the next lesson would be. He already had class in the ring and in the maintenance tunnel before Geist slipped away. He reared back his other big meat hook and began to offer something similar to a last right but wasn’t expecting what happened next:
Poltergeist seized the momentary lack of an ass-whooping to spit a mouthful of blood into the face of The Uneven. While playing possum face down, he managed to suck up a good mouthful of his and the kind mans blood to make the three of them blood brothers now.
The Uneven recoiled in disgust and shock as this was not how he had expected it to go. He dropped Poltergeist who hit the ground hard and let out his own yelp. The Uneven took a few blind swings and missed, stumbling backwards and almost losing his balance in all the clutter around.
“FINALLY! HERE! HERE!!!”
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The Uneven wasn’t sure of the sound but knew it was not good. He managed to clear the blood from his eyes just in time to see Big Red bending down to pick up the World Title. Geist must have slid it back down when he was blind. But that wasn’t the worst. That wasn’t the clang. He quickly tries to spot Poltergeist, only to hear and feel him before he sees him.
Poltergeist had managed to hobble himself up to both feet and was taking a swing with the DiStUrBEr right at the Unevens left leg…and he connected over a roaring call of “ FFFFOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUURRRRRR!!!!!!”
The Uneven let’s out a sound that made Big Red shutter down at the end of the hall, clutching his knee. Poltergeist stands over him admiring his work. He slowly bends down to be a few inches form the Unevens face. Geist let’s the blood drip onto him for a few moments before he whispers “You made me piss myself,” he winces again “You owe me new pants, du dummer mutterficker”
With that, Poltergeist stumbles a few steps away and collapses. Big Red rushes over and helps him up, shouldering the champion. Poltergeist takes back his title and wears it the right way; over the shoulder as they both make a hasty dash for the exit.
Present but hidden the whole time, Demon stands still, in the shadows of the destroyed door watching the events unfold, and silently sneaks off, no one else the wiser to his presence.
Home 
